Heartwishes

Crazy week. People giving me sh** about things that aren't any of their damn business. At 41, I realize that I'm entitled to make my own decisions regardless of what others think, but I still have no problem falling into the provocation trap should the opportunity arise.

Now that I'm really trying to apply new techniques to my meditation, I've discovered that my heart doesn't feel open and full of light. No, my heart often feels dark, and sometimes I get a hard clump in my chest as though my heart was made of stone. Dislike.

It's been easier to move my mind up towards my brain. Being a lover of rules and order, I need to first deal with a lot of things intellectually in order for them to take root, even things of an emotional or creative nature. Which is why I'm loving my Sally Kempton book, "Meditation for the Love of It". It's like a cookbook with tons of meditative recipes. And like any cookbook, you have to try different recipes to find what suits your taste. Since taste is individual, I recognize that if one method doesn't do it for me, I can try another.

Still, this feeling of darkness around my heart has been a concern. When a yoga participant recently shared that she experienced an epiphany while taking part in a yoga workshop I was teaching with some others, naturally I was happy for her, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit to feeling somewhat jealous as well. What she told me was while she was thinking about how grateful she was about her circumstances, she was suddenly overcome with a strong feeling of sheer and utter joy. Hmm, just like the book said.

Grateful. Thankful. Gratitude. I so get that. So why is it so hard for my heart to realize it, too?

Then I reached a turning point this week. Not in meditation, instead while I was thinking about everyone that was annoying me. I suddenly realized that I didn't want to be pissed off anymore. And so it began.

I still haven't reached a point of awakening in meditation, but "the shell that separates me from love" doesn't feel as thick.

I think I could even sense the arrival of dawn.