Ahimsa Shakti

I have never experienced any kind of growth without first fully being with and accepting where I am at now. This piece strives to capture that experience.

This morning I woke up exhausted, third night of no sleep. Night after night tossing and turning. Sleep beyond my grasp. I feel that I am just on the edge of a breakdown. Just barely holding it together. But you would be surprised how long you can just barely hold on. That just barely goes a long way. This is how I hold on to the edge, even when I want to let go: I go through the motions of life. Wake up. Make breakfast. Pack lunches. Send children off to school. Eat that salad every day. Go to yoga. Work. Here, but not here. This ghost of myself acting in the rhythm it has learned well. Hold it all together. No one else will.

This sadness. This hurt. Is right here with me. Except, I don’t want it to be. Just right here. With me. So I push it down. Not allow it to be here. With me. I want to be above this. Beyond this experience. To have moved on already. Yet pushing the pain away from me only keeps it. Right there. Just below the surface. A constant. Dull. Ache. It is just that. It doesn’t go away. It sits there. Right there. Just below the surface. Not fully felt. Or acknowledged. Body weak. Mind affray. Will stubborn. Will stubborn–you will not hurt me.

It is there. Keeping me up at night. There everyday in this numb sort of apathy. Night after night tossing and turning. Day after day brewing into a low rumble of anger and resentment. I don’t give a fuck. I don’t care. You can’t hurt me. Up goes this hard shell of protection. Out come the swords. Defend and attack. Dig in your feet. Hold your ground. Keep away! Sorrow and pain. You are there. Tapping on some imaginary door. Saying, “let me in.”

In desperation. Not out of bravery. Or wisdom. Just sheer. I can’t go on like this any longer. Something needs to change. Desperation. I ask, What happens when I step into this pain? Invite it in? Feel it fully?

So, I invite this sorrow in for tea. Here, come sit at my table. Let us sip this in slowly. I say, stay as long as you like. I want to listen. To hear every part of your story. I want to know how long you have been hiding here, with me? What do you have to teach me? About love? About life? I want to be with you. So fully. More fully than I have ever been. This moment a meditation. A being with. These feelings. My own experience. More deeply. Than I have ever been.

I touch upon this place within and allow it to unfold. Give it permission to be. I love this tenderness inside of me. I let the pain in. I cry. Those deep and hearty sort of tears. That pull at your soul. I feel the hurt. And I also feel what is behind the hurt. Which is, I care. I am a lover. So I love. When I allow this pain in. I allow in this love. And this part of me that loves. That is a lover. Is beautiful.

And you would think. That I got this. Once and for all. All pain suddenly gone with this revelation. I am done. I got it. But that is not the way it works. This pain comes up. Again. And again. And each time. I have to work through. The resistance. The anger. The acceptance. The tears. The love. Step by step. Each time challenging. Just a little less so.

When I am being tender and loving with my own feelings, I can be tender and loving with this other person. This person I hurt. And who hurt me. If only we had allowed. That love in. I still wanted to be with you. But somehow. I didn’t say that. And you didn’t hear it. Forgiveness. It is a funny thing. It starts with me. And ends with you.