In the Flow

This morning I walked through my City of Sydney, drinking in the sights with these eyes for the last time before heading off for a month long adventure. In nine years, this will be the longest I have left this city and I am sitting here somewhere between being nervous and excited. It is a bit like going on a first date with someone who you’ve had your eye on for a while and you know it’s going to be a game changer. I am leaving my home, my cat, my students and my community but this is the next chapter of a story that started a long time ago. Finally, after three years of dreaming of it, I am hopping on a plane to undertake a 200 Hour Prana Flow Teacher Training with Shiva Rea in Greece.

It feels like I am standing here on the edge of change – ready to let go of what was, honouring what is and completely open to what will happen.

My first 200 Hour Teacher Training was done locally, with BodyMindLife in 2012. It was no doubt a life altering experience. So much changed for me during this time including a shedding of a long-term relationship and a huge change in career. I’m glad I had opted to do it part time to allow me the chance for slow integration into all aspects of my life. This time however, I am taking the plunge. I am immersing myself completely in the experience, limiting my contact to the outer world to a minimum.

Every time I go deeper into this path something of what I was, is stripped away so that I can become more of what I was meant to be both as a person and as a teacher. These events are magical even though they might not always be easy. They have a way of releasing an old way of being, a way of thinking that no longer serves us and sometimes even old relationships. Leading into this, I have been very careful not to make big commitments as I know that these are very personal journeys and it would not be fair to make a promise that I am not sure I will be able to keep.

There is so much to experience and so much to learn within yoga and we are lucky to be in Australia at this time as the tribe is continuously growing. We have had an influx of great international teachers including Ana Forrest, Maty Ezraty and Bryan Kest, each bringing with them a wealth of knowledge that has fed my own practice and my teaching.

Prana Flow however, has always been close to my heart.

This was a style that was introduced to me more than two years ago by Chanel Luck and Simon Park. Being an ex traditional dancer, something about the ritual and ceremony in combination with discipline, intelligent sequencing and the freedom of flow spoke to me. It was like the practice was telling a story and my body opened to participating in this tale that was being spun.

I am in love with how elements including the weather, the cycle of the moon and the energy of the students in the class are all welcomed into the space to create a complete experience. I am fascinated by how the more Tantric philosophies that honour the feminine are involved.   The way the flow is taught has given my body and soul a freedom that can only be found when my mind can get out of the way. There is an intuitive intelligence to it that can only be felt. There is a fullness and wholeness to it that feeds the soul.

And so we unfold.

When I decided to become a yoga teacher, it also meant that I had committed to a lifetime of learning. It meant a dedication to self-enquiry. Yoga is a lifelong process, a loop that keeps looping. We learn and we practice so that we can keep teaching. Sometimes we have to go back to our own lessons in life and in practice to be able to give. If the day ever comes when I don’t want to practice and feel that I have nothing more to learn, then it is probably a sign that I should stop teaching.

For now, the path is taking me deeper into knowledge of myself as a person. This is the knowledge that informs me as a teacher to be able to offer more to my students on their own paths and I am so grateful to the teachers and life lessons, hard as they may have been, that have brought me here.

So here I head into the next leg of this journey. It’s hard to be away from loved ones and the support that I’ve come to cherish from my community but we are in continuous flow and sometimes, the river has to take us in a solitary direction before we can come back to the sea. I look forward to returning to my city and my community with a new way of seeing things, more to share and so much more compassion.

One in Four – A Walk through Shadow and Flame

According to statistics, one in four children in the US have been sexually molested. I don’t know what the statistics are in other parts of the country, but that is a big number. It means that every fourth person you meet has been in some way or other, sexually taken advantage of. I don’t know what the statistics are in Malaysia or in the UK where it happened to me but it could be similar. And yes, it did happen to me.

This was 29 years ago, when parents thought that the world was a safe place and that you could allow children to play securely and innocently. He was an acquaintance of my mother’s, someone she was taking a course with in Manchester, UK. It was already a rough time, as my father had sent me to my mother along with a letter that he was leaving her for a younger woman. She was devastated and I was confused.

How does a six year old even begin to describe the situation? It was a public place, and there was no pain involved but something about the situation didn’t feel right. I couldn’t even find the words to say what had happened and my mother was already upset, so I kept it quiet. Keeping it quiet however, did not mean that nothing manifested of it.

I’ve lived my life panicking every time a man stands too close behind me, and when a man assists me in child’s pose, my initial reaction is to stop breathing and freeze up until the message gets to my brain that I know the person and that it is OK to relax. It took me years to get used to the assist in downward facing dog where someone grabs you from the hips and pulls you back. Even now, there are only a few men I can relax into the assist with and I am extremely sensitive to the intention behind the touch.

It was never spoken of, but it has always been somewhere in the shadows.

And it wasn’t until two years ago that I had a vivid memory of the experience. My abuser had come from behind and he wasn’t rough, but he did touch me in an inappropriate way. A child might not know it in their mind, but children are sensitive receptors of touch. It was a lucky thing that there were other people around on the other side of the room or it could have been worse. I wanted to look out the window and he carried me until I could see. It was subtle but I did feel violated.

The event has been playing in the back of my mind for all this time.

‘When the student is ready, the teacher appears,’ old Buddhist proverb.

And so I must have been ready as the right teacher appeared. She had been through a worse experience than I had, relived the memory and come out the other side. I remember being in her class over a year ago, and the feelings surrounding the situation for me came up. Even from the first class, she noticed that I had trouble connecting to my sacrum and was coaxing me to bring breath into the area. It has been a slow process and part of the thing that made is so was my fear to face the assault.

It takes a lot to face these things but last Wednesday, something clicked. Ana Forrest, my beautiful teacher coaxed us to go on a quest towards identifying the blockages that keep us from being whole. In case of a traumatic event, a part of you remains in that time until you go back and free them. Ana said the magic words, telling us that the worst was over. We had survived and we were alive.

That, I think was what did it for me. I decided at the beginning of class that I would chase this fucker down so he could have less power over me. That intention must have been potent because even from the beginning as I was bringing breath down to my sacrum and pelvic area, the tremors began. They continued through core work and most of the class. Finally, when we got into Shavasana, they took over, wrecking my entire body and causing me to panic to the point of not being able to breathe. Luckily Claire, Ana’s assistant, lovingly stayed with me, gently touching my head and cueing me to keep breathing. As soon as we were out of Shavasana, I was a sobbing wreck.

It did not finish there.

Through the day, when I got home, I would sit down, start breathing into my sacrum and the shaking would start followed by sobs. Emotionally, I had to revisit that time of being confused, scared and betrayed. That feeling of being left alone overtook me, and most of all were the very strong feelings that as this was happening to me, my father, the one who was meant to flex his muscles (he was an ex footie player) and protect me was busy starting a new romance. He had let me down, and that’s where my belief that men leave you when you’re weak started.

There were some positives to it though. I was finally able to speak to my mother about it and gave the six year old a voice. She has been a rock through these times. She continues to be amazing, caring, calling me and supportive in my determination to get through this. She’s stuck through me in my crazy quest and called every day since.

We women are so much stronger in our compassion than we give ourselves credit for.

On Thursday I went back. The tremors started early, and towards the end, we were in a compromising Frog pose with a big roll under our bellies. That’s when they fully took over my body. A big part of me wanted to leave the pose and run out of the room. Another part of me was absolutely adamant to chase this fucker out of my body. Ana stayed with me through almost all five minutes of the tormenting ordeal where there were moments when I truly believed that I might die.

But I didn’t and here I am.

I’ve been a gaping wound all week. The memories, and the feelings surrounding them rise and fall like waves. They take over me and I am a shaking mess all over again. Sleep has been sometimes easy but most of the time not. I’ve had nightmares and gone to some really dark places in my mind, but as much as it scares me, I don’t want to put a temporary salve on this.

This will be a tough ride but I want to live my life fully so I am choosing to go through this. The other option is to live my life behind a safe wall where ‘fine’ and ‘comfortable’ are good enough. They are really not so I am living the days occasionally getting thrown into my past knowing that only by facing the nightmares will I be able to shine light on them.

The first 200 Hour Yoga Teacher Training I did, I was recovering from a breakup. This time, I will be so much more vulnerable as I head into another time of big change. Sometimes though, it is in times of darkness like these that you learn to find your own light. I could bury it and stick a positive affirmation on it, but that’s not where the work is done. There is greatness and magic in the world however, as what you need always gets provided to you. In my case, I have a strong and loving bond with my family even though they are far away, a generous and solid community that holds me in their arms, wonderful friends and a nuturing yoga practice.

I am also taking steps to protect myself now. Where I would spread my love without fear of backlash before, right now, I am a bit more cautious. Where I see threat of unnecessary hurt, I step back. Some friends will taper away. This is when you know the ones who are leeching on your life force, the ones who only want you when you are light and easy. If you have a partner, this is when you know a weak person from a strong one.

It is a process of riding the waves day by day, and a transformation through fire. At the other side awaits a stronger person with more compassion and so much more love for self and others.

Brahmacharya

In 2012, a few months before I went into my first 200 Hour Yoga Teacher Training, I made a radical decision. I decided that for a year, I would observe Brahmacharya. Named for the state of searching for the ‘Great One, Supreme Reality, or Self,’ Brahmacharya is one of the five Yamas according to Yogic texts. In Vedic traditions in refers to the state of celibacy one chooses during the life stage of being an unmarried student and fidelity when married. In modern times, it is better known as a state of being sexually responsible. In Hindu and Buddhist traditions, Monks practice Brahmacharya their whole lives as it is considered necessary for their spiritual practice.

It wasn’t a decision that required a lot of consideration on my end. I loved the sound of the word, ‘Bharmacharya,’ and something about doing it felt completely right. I chose the more strict sense of the word, not only refraining from the sexual act, but also anything that could lead to it including kissing, extreme alcohol consumption and situations where I am alone with a man I am attracted to in a private setting.

As soon as I had decided on it, it was like I had donned a veil that made me sexually invisible. There was a sense of liberation in being able to let it go and practice my Yoga, learn my texts and most of all, learn more about myself. Once I had taken the whole dynamic out of the picture, I found a lot of freedom. I learned to walk in my own skin without trying to gather the attention or to please a dominant male figure.

A lot came up in that time but once the year was up, and as I was ready to lift the veil, my beloved father passed away. Now that opened up a whole other can of worms and Brahmacharya was extended. The relationship between a daughter and a father is always something pretty amazing. My father, no matter what he did was my hero. Whenever he was in a room, his was the only presence that mattered to me. We had our ups and downs of course. When we disagreed there were so many strong emotions running around that the charge was palpable. It was the love that was also the double-edged sword. When he hurt me, I would lash out as strongly but the love was so deep that when I hurt him, it was akin to taking a knife to my own heart.

My father was a bit of a narcissist in that he never saw how his actions hurt the people who loved him. Growing up I was used to him getting distracted either with a new relationship, a new love interest or a new work venture and he would disappear during those times. Those were the days when he didn’t return my calls, or was simply not available. Then when the thing that had his interest for the moment went to shits or he got bored of it, he would be back and I would welcome him. It hurt like hell but I was young not to see the cruelty and selfishness in it so it became the norm.

When he passed, the patterns that I had carried on from my relationship with him to my relationship with other men came to light. Of course, I never loved anyone quite as strongly. How could you love an employer, friend or lover as much as you love your own father? Not even close. But I did notice that in my relationships with men, I had been willing to accept a degree of cruelty. I’m not saying that the men in my life have been cruel, not all of them anyway, but there have been acts of cruelty that I had previously quickly forgiven and even sometimes apologised for.  In doing so, I had been cruel to myself and reaffirming the belief that I was not worthy and therefore it was my responsibility to hold things together.  That was a pretty big one to see and a bigger one to disprove.  Thanks goodness for the friends who see your light even when you can’t.

There is something to be said for not being in a romantic relationship and seeing these patterns. I haven’t been a monk where emotions are concerned. Of course, I’ve had crushes and emotional interests but the commitment to my practice has held me from getting into going forward with a relationship. I had nothing to lose. I’d spent my entire twenties almost continuously in long-term relationships. The thing is, when you are in one, you’re so caught up in the highs and lows of it that you can’t step back and say, ‘wait a minute, here’s that behaviour that I am repeating.’ I’m not saying the change is immediate but like with everything else, you have to notice the pattern to change how you act to it. That has been my greatest lesson.

I have many lessons to learn, I’m sure, but it has been three years and eight months since I committed to a state of learning these lessons on my own. This has in a way become a crutch to save myself from complications and the possibility of pain, but what is life without some complication. It might be time to opening myself to lessons that involve another dynamic now.

In about two weeks, I enter into my second 200 Yoga Teacher Training. The main teacher, the amazing Shiva Rea is a true Tantrist. This time instead of slow assimilation to practice, it will be a month away in an insulated situation, but once the month is done, I think it is time I consciously lift the veil of Brahmacharya that I’ve been wearing all this time.

To victory in facing fears, taking risks and standing in the discomfort of the fire until change is ready to happen. Jai!

Dear Past, I Thank You

Sometimes when you least expect it, a part of your past, long forgotten waves at you across the distance, and like it or not, your attention is brought back to it.  It could be an old friend, an old lover or just an old place forcing you to turn around from where you stand and look back.

 

There are times when you have moved so far away from that world which once held you that you’ve forgotten it even existed.  Then it calls you back, and you return for a visit.  However, like Alice revisiting Wonderland as an adult, the dark recesses don’t look quite as dark, and the things that once consumed you, don’t have so much of a power over you anymore.  You know there is a demon to slay, but either because it has shrank, or you have grown, the demons don’t look so big anymore. The powers they once had over you somehow diminished with time.

 

The past is a funny place to be.

 

There is always an option of staying there, safe in the comfort of old stories and replaying scenarios, where you are still that same person stuck in your version of a child’s wonderland.  You can stay, in the same grooves made by your parents, moving on to the same lives they led, the same patterns, the same habits.  It is a familiar place, one you know deep in your marrow, where the outcome is one that you have grown to expect.

 

Sometimes however, the universe has other ideas.

 

You take a potion, or you make a small decision and things are set in motion.  Somehow without even realising it, you have stepped out of that place.  The old cast is still there, but you are no longer part of that story, or they are no longer part of yours.  Looking back on the person you were, you realise that you are no longer that.  What you thought, that image you wore as armour was but a role that you played, a mask you put on for that ball.

 

Then you realise that through the years, layers and layers of yourself have been shed.  Those bonds that once held you, the bonds you once saw as a safe embrace are just that, the bonds you put on to stay safe, to stay in a place where you didn’t need to change.  Once the thread unravelled, there was no turning back.

 

You have become a complete person on your own.

 

You know now that no ties will make you more of a person and no great love would need you to be less of who you are.  You’ve found that as much as you have love to give, you are also worthy of a love that is just as great.  Revisiting the Wonderland of the past has opened your eyes to the reality of now.  You know now that your past, the stories that were told to you and the future are not the same.

 

In a deep backbend, you allow the back of your heart to push you forward, and that’s sometimes how life works.  A push from the past sometimes reminds you that you are here, in a moment that is not that, and that everything that has happened has led you here.

 

Revisiting Wonderland gave you a moment to bow and say ‘thank you,’ for the part of your journey you shared, for the lessons learned and for the role the past has played in your journey towards yourself.  One bow, one nod of recognition, like two distant strangers passing each other on the street and then you let go and move on – to your separate lives, to your separate futures.

 

You return to the embrace of the friends who share your life now with your mask removed, as you stand strong in your vulnerability. You catch the eye of the person who makes you smile in a knowing look you share with each other.  They were always there, laughing with you, patiently holding you when you needed, facing your fire when it raged.  Now finally, you take each other’s hand to start building from the present.

 

The past is done.

 

That book is closed.

 

You are free.

Yes

The third eclipse in this short span of time comes to us with the next full moon, and with it, is a time to say “goodbye,’ – a time to release, and perhaps even let a whole section of yourself die.  Most of us are uncomfortable with endings and a lot more of us don’t like talking about death.  It is the final end. The place where you can’t go back to what once was.  It is that place where your footprints get washed away by the sea and all that is left is to go forward, into the unknown.

There is comfort in the old, a familiarity, a certain safety, and to hold on is so much easier than to let go and step towards the future.  We might say that we don’t believe in these things, but sometimes, something greater just moves us in this direction.  Without ever intending to, we leave the past and head towards the future.  Something closes, something else opens.  Like my teacher Mel would say of a backbend, “it is like everything in the past pushing you forward from your heart.”  There is a beautiful sadness but also an excitement of what is to come.

It can be comforting having just that one string so that we can hold on to the past, but sometimes that string needs to be cut.  In that space where there was left the faintest of connections, there needs to be just emptiness.  The faint imprint left by a former lover is wiped away by the rain, allowing the glow of a new sun to spread it’s warmth on a clean foundation. Sometimes a lover becomes a friend, other times, even the friendship can’t be salvaged and the lover becomes a stranger.  A friend or even a stranger becomes a lover.

You think your heart died the last time it broke.

Going back into that space where you allow things to enter seems crazy.

But something stirs again – Perhaps the tiny flickering flame of affection, growing into desire and in the future, who knows?

You died once when your last life ended.

And you are reborn into this new life.

The heart beats.

It lives.

It wants to soar.

It wants to go into the unknown.

You’ve found your centre and don’t want to lose it, but your heart, the centre of it all is ready to bring you off your axis.

It is time. 

The final goodbye led to the first hello.  And the darkness makes the light seem so much brighter.  Something different, someone different, is scary.  It is the possibility of your universe being flipped upside down in a way that is beyond your control. It is two movements in one – allowing something unknown into this comfortable and familiar space that you have painstakingly built while you yourself move into an unknown dimension.  It is a doorway to another part of yourself, yet undiscovered.  How do you know that you will like this undiscovered self?  How do you know that you won’t?

Right now the questions are being asked and not answering is no longer an option.

Will you let go?

Will you let the past rest where it belongs?

Are you going to release fear and step over a threshold into a new life?

Can you allow a glance to become a lingering look?

When someone reaches out their hand to you will you take it?

Are you ready to immerse yourself into the unfamiliarity of the future?

A million questions, and the only answer that will make a difference is…

Yes

Welcoming the Snake

Last weekend on the 10^th of February 2013, we welcomed the year of the Snake according to the Lunar Calendar.  In Hindu philosophy, the God of Destruction, Shiva wears a garland of snakes around his neck.  In Christianity the serpent is depicted as being a creature of Satan. The serpent is depicted as Shakti, or pure consciousness in Kundalini yoga.  As your Kundalini rises, she undulates, climbing your spine to rise through the crown of your head and meet her lover, Shiva.

Legendary empress Cleopatra ended her own life by allowing a poisonous snake to bite her.  The serpent has been depicted as the symbol of evil power and chaos, but also of fertility, life and healing.

The thing is though, although beautiful and mesmerising, the serpent (or naga) is not something you could ever know everything about.  It is a mystery creature that dances with such grace, and you never know when it could strike.

I like snakes.  Like the comfortable weight of one as it slithers across my shoulders, arms or legs.  Like the way they are just so emotionally in tune that they can just pick up when someone starts to panic.  Like the cool sensuality of this majestic animal as it moves, seemingly without any rush, and how it looks at you, like it knows something.  And yes, secretly, I like the thrill of having something calm, yet dangerous close to me, something so smooth, yet so strong that it could crush me in its’ embrace.

Me With Jake (no, he’s not mine)

As the snake slithered into our lives this year, I found myself going through even more changes.  Like beautiful Satya, one of my teacher, said recently, the coming of the snake [in a way] signifies a shedding of skin.  How much more could let go of?  In the last 18 months, among the things that had been shed from my life included a relationship, some friends,  an apartment I had lived in for three years, and my role as papa’s little girl, along with some addictions including my beloved cigarettes. Surely I’ve shed enough already right? Well,  Someone out there has opposing views, as on Monday, I also shed a job in the corporate world.

Am I scared?

Of course I am.

I am petrified!!!

But there’s also a small thrill inside me.

It is the same thrill I feel when I snake is slithering over my skin.  In this thrill is also a sense of sensual aliveness.  Life has me in its unrelenting grasp as it slithers all over me.  At the slightest provocation, it could squeeze me and break me.

What comes next? Only time will tell.

So my loved ones, as we welcome the serpent into our lives, what are you ready to shed? What thrills await you? What sensuous journeys will you take? And most of all, will you be calm as the serpent does what it must?

Edited by Cazz Eccles, Word Warriors: http://lovewhatitloves.wordpress.com/

The Death of Drama (Addiction)

It seems like a lifetime ago, but my first long term relationship was a bit like the song, “Love the way you lie,” by Eminem and Rihanna… something about a volcano meeting a tornado, or something like that.  As a love story, it was like Heathcliff and Catherine from Wuthering Heights.  Since the day we got together, hardly a fortnight would go without us screaming at each other followed by me crying and some sort of emotional blackmail.  At some point it almost became this match to see who could hurt each other more. And then we would make up, and it would be all, “I love you,” and “we’ll be together forever.”  The fact that we stayed together for four years means that I must have liked it in some way.

It’s not rocket science. I somehow got a rush from the rollercoaster of feelings, going from absolute passion to anger to sadness.  It was crazy.  I thought that if it wasn’t difficult, it wasn’t worth it. I was always ready to spring. There was no peace. I now know that every day of my life back then was lived in my sympathetic nervous system – fight or flight.  I learned to do both reasonably well.  My uncle’s relationship with his ex wife was the same, except in their case there were physical bruises involved.  It’s a cycle and in a way, some people just don’t know how to get out of it.

Was it love? Of course it was love.  Of course, at the time, I was of the mind that love had to be difficult and love had to be this crazy rollercoaster. The thing with love though, is that it’s just an emotion. The forms it can take can sometimes be positive, and at other times detrimental.  Who is anyone to say that people who fight all the time love each other less than people who don’t?

What is it about drama though?

10 years on looking back and I wonder why we thrive on drama so much. It’s not just in relationships, but in all aspects of life.  And sometimes we can’t put it down to youth either. Some of us can’t do anything without an aspect of drama in it. The hypochondriac is an extreme case of this but there are others that are not quite there, but very close. The family member who fakes his own fucking death, the friend who’s always got some beef with someone, the person who’s talking on the phone extremely loudly on the bus.  Everything has to be a big production.  Honestly, I’ve known people to whom even going to sleep is this big production.  It’s like putting on a play; need this, need that, need blah blah blah… and they’re not comfortable anyway. Sometimes I honestly wonder if it’s a cry for help or simply a call for attention.  How you know these people is that when you spend time with them, you leave feeling absolutely exhausted.

Drama can become an addiction. It’s like feeding on the attention, the adrenaline, the production of things, and when there is none of that, you just forget how to function.  It’s like an actor who doesn’t know who they are anymore once a movie ends, and people who are just lost and depressed when nobody is watching. It’s the person who can’t handle silence because there is nobody to perform for.  It’s everywhere if only you look hard enough.  It’s just a fucking story.

Sure there are breakups, and bad days at work, and sometimes, we just need that support form our friends and loved ones.  Sometimes however, it helps to stop and look at our own patterns.  One example is this Carrie Bradshaw syndrome. Somehow it’s romantic when you break up and get back together and then break up again and then get back together again. And while you’re doing this, your friends have to sit there year in year out listening to the same shit.  I love you Carrie. Without this stuff, Sex in the City would have died early, but heck its drama, made for TV, and should be kept for TV.  Bring it out into the world, and it becomes tedious.

We read books. We watch movies, and of course at some point everyone wants to write the story of their lives. Because it’s great isn’t it? We’ve made it so full of drama that it will be a best seller. It’s going to be the next “Eat, Pray, Love,” isn’t it?  Suddenly after the book and movie, everyone was getting divorced and going to Bali hoping they’ll meet a Brazilian man who says, “daarrrrrrling.” Well honey, that book has already been written, so you can just cut the drama and carry on with life. And perhaps we don’t have to sit around every moment like someone’s going to take a fucking picture.  Every day of life doesn’t need to be a big fucking production.

Honestly, as I said to beloved friend and teacher Michael, I’m just tired of fucking drama. Sure there are ups and downs, and those things keep life interesting.  When I get together with friends, I do want to hear their stories. When a friend goes through a breakup or has a hard day at work, I want to be there for them, but I would like to cut the drama.  I’m not Elizabeth Gilbert.  This is my life. Even without drama, there is a story, my story, the one that goes into my journal, not for the big screen or be bound in hardcover. The one that is my life, and not some fucking production of it.  I could live without the 15 minutes of fame.

So the world is going to end today, and every ending is a new beginning. What I’m going to do is let go of the fucking past, move on, have some fish and chips, catch up with some friends and hope that this ending means a new beginning with minimal drama.

Cheers lovers!

Honouring the Past – The Stories of Our Lives

If you use the Hijr calendar, you would be a very small minority, but you would also know that today is New Year’s Eve according to that calendar.  I live somewhere in the intersection of a few worlds, so I take notice and honour a few calendars.  Of course, on New Year’s Eve according to the Gregorian calendar, just like most of the world (up until this year at that is), I have spent New Year’s Day in a slightly hazy state, if you know what I mean.  The Hijr New Year however, has always been a very quiet affair for me. Apart from the years in primary school when I would be in the Muslim choir group (just to add to confusion, I was also in the Christmas choir group), this time has always been for me, a time of meditation and quiet.

Today as I am contemplating future meditations and the solar eclipse this morning, I am also thinking about the past.  Yes, I know the past is just a memory and all that, but the past, no matter how dark and ominous, is what has brought us here today.  While we know that holding on to the past and the continuously blaming that past for all our screw ups keeps us from moving forward, what about paying homage to the past?

A lot of self-help books, articles and blogs will speak about letting go of the past, that’s true, but I am starting to wonder about society and the rush to run away from the past.  What’s the difference, you ask? Well, letting go denotes acknowledging and respecting, and then releasing while what I see, and indeed have done myself is just to walk away from it, thinking that by doing so, I will be able to release the pain.

I know the world is moving fast and if we don’t move along with it, time won’t wait, and I know that I am not getting younger, but don’t you sometimes think that we move too fast?  The best way to demonstrate this is probably in relationships.  As a person, I am not very patient, so in the past, my style has always been to rush things.  No sooner had one thing ended, I would put myself “out there,” for a fling, a relationship or whatever it was that would come my way.

Somewhere in my mind, I thought that the drunken nights passing out in tears on my pillow blaming God, country and such and such’s mother for producing such was homage enough.  And I suppose for some it was, but the thing with relationships is that each one, no matter how testing, brings us to another place.  It is the same with our jobs, our friendships and even our living arrangements.

The past is a funny thing. Sometimes it can drag you in and you end up staying there for hours.  Sometimes, the feelings invoked are just so hard that it is you who closes the door and walks away.  On days when your world is dark, it acts as your own little reserve of sunshine.  Sometimes you go through it again and again and again wondering what went wrong or what you did wrong, and at other times you see it just as it is, a mere memory. Sometimes we choose to hit the “delete” button on certain parts because there of a love lost, or a friendship gone sour.  It is this big reel of shadow and light.  For some, the past is dull and grey, but for others, the past is a place of vibrant colour.

If we live in the past too much, we cease to move.

Deny it and we never learn.

It is up to us to find that balance.

We move on, as we will, and time moves, as it must, but why not, as we make our resolutions for the future, take a moment to honour the past, not just the good and pleasant, but also the shadows and dark places.

What good is a story without the contrast of day and night.

Without the night, how would we appreciate the day as we do?

Without the chill how would we appreciate the heat as we do?

Every past is part shadow and part light, just like we are, and tomorrow, today too will be part of the past.

So tonight, perhaps honour both the shadow and the light in equal parts, breathe it in, and then exhale and instead of forcing ourselves to let go, perhaps it’s best to just let it be.