Thursday, April 23, 2020

     Bound to be misunderstood, I shall try to rip the fetters. I am never completely satisfied. There's always a feeling of mystery that has a chance to light if I just dig a little longer. This is where my soul knows that I came here to learn patience, while I'm trying to rip things apart in a dizzying frenzy. Yet you know this too - there's no end to anything, there's always more... I search for stillness in my teatime, in my walking; but I can't even lay still on the floor, as I must do and look deeper.
     Recently I had learned a new technique in yoga. It stems from the sitting, forward bend asana, Paschimottanasana. As I achieve the pose, my awareness goes to the belly, searching for tension. The idea is to feel it and see where, from which event in life this tension comes from. And then live through it and release - in your own way. Every time I've come to that practice, my mind switched on and ran around the stockroom of memories, searching, hounding. Nothing.                                         Today I came to it again. Somehow I didn't think, and it waltzed in - the event! Like a bright explosion it shone through to me, fast, bright, to the point. And I cried, for the first time in yoga. 
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