I follow a woman on social media, Roka, who lives on a boat, grows flowers and shares vlogs filled with poetry, vulnerability, crafting, honesty and penchant for harmonious slow living. She calls each portion of her life a journey, each one a discovery and even though I'm sure it doesn't always feel so, it's comforting watching another creature in this strange species of ours approach life in this way. She said recently, that while she's discovered that she can do so much on her own that we are a social species and need the company of others. To grow with and learn from and share our experiences.
This resonated with me so fiercely.... so much of my life experiences have left me believing it's better to isolate, holding my dark parts close. Even told myself scary bedtime stories to romanticize my life or to keep me living a certain way. These fables we tell ourselves over and over.
What happens when you break the fourth wall? What then?
Another fun word I've been touretting is maladaptive. Mala, in Sanskrit, means garland or rosary... a string of beads used in meditation, in prayer. With that in mind, in the psyche, what prayers do our maladaptive parts speak to? They were born for a reason, they helped us to survive at some point in our lives so for that alone, they deserve praise and admiration. In tantra, 108 beads constitute a mala which equates to the 108 energetic lines in the body all converging in the heart chakra. There's a beautiful symmetry to this thought loop in my mind.
A strange sensation, feeling an emotional wound closing within yourself. So much like the stretching tautness of a physical wound, the flesh tender and new but persistent in its fight for renewal. If I breathe a certain way, I can feel its borders, tenuous and flexible. It's a time of gentleness and patience... don't breathe too hard, don't push too much. Savor this anticipation of joy without tethering. In parts work, each voice is valuable and deserves the space to feel and be heard, so we sit with it all. Even the discomfort of being a quixotic paradoxical creature with all our two thousand parts.
The other day, I caught myself singing a Beatles' song, which is weird for me, only because they're not a band I normally gravitate towards. Like most, I was indoctrinated by their pop hoodoo in childhood. But this other morning, the jingle jangle intro to Here Comes the Sun doodoo-dee-dooo as I made my morning milky tea, waking up the house, speaking gently with my kittens, greeting the day. CORNY but so sweet and lovely and warm and the opposite of dark. And if that wasn't saccharine enough, I bought clothes for the first time in I can't remember how long and they weren't even black (well not ONLY black). Shocking, I know. Bright ass kelly green striped pajamas. So blissfully normal and just because I wanted to. x
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