A Little Bit About a Big Concept

Though life takes us on many diverging paths,
there is only one good red road that we walk,
and only one well that we need to dig
to find water.

– Christina

For as long as I can remember I have been fascinated by the possibility of freedom from suffering. As a goal it felt unattainable, yet as a path it called. My prayers were shaped by the ideal of “becoming empty” which was my perception of what it would feel like to dissolve enough of the ego – of who I am not – to channel grace in service to others. These were the prayers of a child who thought she knew suffering.

Be careful what you pray for.

The concept of freedom from suffering is illustrated well through the highest relics of religious scholarism and Eastern Spirituality. Buddha and the ancient yogis and Jesus Christ are embodiments of transcendence beyond the ordinary into the halls of magic and miracle. Perhaps, as we work and evolve and discover, it is incumbent upon us to unpack the miracles and make them an extraordinary part of our normalized experience as we integrate a deeper understanding of the principles we are here to learn. In shorter words, perhaps a miracle only appears as such because we are not their(s) yet.
There yet.

What if we can be? There.
What if we can arrive?

It’s a question I am still working through the answer to, yet I have observed a level of a faith growing that I do not remember having when I first stepped foot into this earth school. “One Well” is a book in progress, a critical documentation of my exploration of THAT which might easily take the rest of my days to become realized. In the meantime, to put this into perspective, there are a couple of simple companions I would like to recognize in case this speaks to you as well.

Through many years of personal self-study and the consumption of yogic philosophy and the trials and joys of existence, two tribal tenants emerged as big players in my small life: abhyasa and vairagya.

Abhyasa, a Sanskrit word meaning to practice, became a humble mantra and the name of a yoga teacher training school I would eventually birth. The feeling at that time was that while I may not know much, I know I can always practice, and that practice would lead me somewhere. This is something I knew I could share with community from a real, meet-yourself-where-you-are place. Practice makes the body, mind and spirit strong and flexible, and prepares one for the integration of vulnerability as a greatest strength.

Vairagya, a Sanskrit word meaning non-attachment, presented an endurance model that I nearly did not survive – a noun that I ingested as a verb. Setting a lifelong intention to practically understand the concept led me through minefields of deeply rooted attachments. An almost involuntary drive pressed my vessel through fire after fire of cathartic growth until I could either cry mercy, or love harder. Or, upon losing my greatest attachment – my son – quit this life all together.

I loved harder.

Loving harder is not a letting-go. Loving harder exemplified a high functioning determination to survive, one that I came to realize as a useful state preceding the gentle epiphany that in fact, love is never hard. Love has no density.

This earth walk is hard. Sometimes. (Most of the time.)

And,

Attachment is hard
and dense
and filled with unconscious fears
that inspire distorted motivations
that guide our decisions
and force mental rationalizations
regarding
how actions we commit to
based on fear
represent our truths (they don’t)
when in fact they only represent
distraction
from our authentic nature
and procrastination
of empowerment
and freedom

Vairagya continues to teach me that the level of pain that we experience is directly proportional to our level of attachment. If I am attached to a necklace because it has sentimental value, and I lose it, my pain will mirror the degree to which I feared the loss. If I remind myself, in the present, that I will never lose the love that the necklace represents (and I tune into the love and know that yes, it is there), the fear of loss diminishes and the pain recedes into freedom from attachment.

Once an attachment is liberated, gratitude organically takes residency in the vacuum where pain once lived. A feeling of relief and lightness of being prevails. This is when we know that a letting-go has occurred. The release is real. (And – good news – this is the seed of forgiveness, which is an organic byproduct of letting go, which is an organic byproduct of diving deep into feeling.)

In holding tight (attachment), we leave no space for gratitude to exist. Like a butterfly, the grace of gratitude is fragile and perfect and requires air all around it. It will magnetize toward ready flowers to settle upon, but it cannot enter a closed fist.

In letting go, we become the flower.

All of my love,
Christina