The week already seems a blur of meaningful moments and yet so much wisdom. I cannot remember all the postures, the sequences, the mantras or the guided pranayamas. I do remember the stability, the stillness, the prana, the grace. I remember relaxing into the joy of the movement. I remember the words as they touched my heart. I remember surrendering. No longer doing a pose, no longer trying to control or obtain a specific result.
As I am writing this, sitting at a cafe in the Toronto airport, a gentleman asked me if I was using a chair. I looked at his averted eyes and with a bright smile, I said, "No." He grabbed the chair and pulled it away. I felt my angry flash. The judgment pressed in my mind. How rude! And then I laughed. What am I afraid of losing? Certainly not the chair! It is my sense of self importance. With my mind turned toward the manner of his behaviour, I am turning away from my own inherent joy. He does not need to reject me, I have already rejected my heart and placed my awareness on my thoughts, rather than on my capacity to love. As I remember, the smile returns and my fingers dance across the keyboard to share this amazing experience with all of you.
The two situations share the same element of safety. In a room of ParaYogis and Yogarupa there is only love and compassion, it is so easy to feel my heart, surrender my fears.
I am the only one who can truly love me.
I am the only one who can truly honour me.
I am the only one responsible to care for me.
To be a teacher who can hold that much space for others, one must be able to hold more space for oneself, for a true teacher embodies what they teach.
Practice, practice, practice.
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