You from new york you are so relevant. You reduce me to cosmic tears. Luminous more so than most anyone, unapologetically alive. Knot in my stomach and lump in my throat.
I love you when you dance, when you freestyle in trance. So pure such an expression. Supposed former infatuation junkie. I sink three pointers and you wax poetically. I love you when you dance, when you freestyle in trance. So pure such an expression. Let’s grease the wheel over tea. Let’s discuss things in confidence. Let’s be outspoken, let’s be ridiculous. Let’s solve the world’s problems. I love you when you dance, when you freestyle in trance. So pure such an expression.
Infatuation junkie. For many years, before I took off on my first wild adventure and began calling myself the homebody with wanderlust, this is the label that defined me. Addicted to infatuation, in love with falling in love. Always looking for the brand new thing, always shooting towards a far off horizon.
Where was I going? What was I aiming for? And what did I think I would find there, in the hearts of other bodies, other minds, that was missing in myself?
At the time, I really had no idea. I wanted to help people. I wanted to fix the world. I wanted to feel free and alive. I wanted to start a fire in my heart that would never stop burning. Somewhere on that distant horizon there was a life full of love and adventure waiting for me. And somehow, despite – or perhaps because of – innumerable obstacles on my path, somehow I seem to have found it.
Or maybe it has found me. How, I might never know.
There was something absolutely pure in my intention back then.
I was young and wild, full of ideas that seemed too strange to be true, completely alone and ready to do just about anything to find the path that I knew was there, just on the other side of a jungle made from my past. I was terrified, suffering, ready to leave everything behind but knowing I didn’t want to give up on life. Not yet. But I was willing to do just about anything to feel again, to know that I was real and I could make a difference in the broken, messed up world around me.
And in those desperate moments, something came along and cleared my vision. Something parted the tangle of thorns just wide enough for me to step through, still narrow enough that it began stripping away the layers of programming piled up from years of doing what I was supposed to do and being who I was supposed to be. As it turns out, I was never very good at playing along. I’m a lot better at being the shining me that was hiding underneath all that dirt.
What does it mean to be purely me? In our discussion on saucha, the niyama of purity, during the Hridaya Module One course, I found myself called back to this time in my life when it seemed like everything around me changed, as if by some divine hand reaching into my life and sweeping all the garbage aside. And I realized that it wasn’t really the world changing around me, but me changing inside the world.
I purified my body of junk and processed food. My panic attacks subsided and my weight began to drop closer to a healthy range. I purified my home, finding a place where I felt both comfortable and able to pursue my own path. I purified my relationships, moving away from those who were not authentic and honest themselves, towards those who loved and supported me in finding my truest self. I purified my mind, learning to differentiate the cruelty of my inner critic from the truth of my intuitive heart.
Or at least, that’s when it all began.
All this began more than five years ago, before I fell in love with my husband, before I visited Mexico for the first time, before I started looking at my spirituality as more than a path to pleasure. Now I know that the process of purification is ongoing, a never-ending flow of cleansing intent that moves through me in each and every moment.
This flow isn’t always soft and easy. The aversion, that force which one of my favourite writers, Stephen Pressfield calls resistance, is always there. The attraction to easier, shinier, more stimulating things is constantly just a mouse click away.
But more and more, and especially after all the amazing connections I’ve made, the many things I have learned and experienced at the Hridaya Center in Mazunte, I can come back to my center, to that spark of pure intent, to find the faith and the inspiration to continue on my own path through life.
I may not be able to solve the world’s problems. I may not even be able to solve my own. But who needs to solve anything when the body, mind and soul are finally free? I can just keep walking the walk through this sometimes scary but always gorgeous forest, hugging each ominous tree as I pass, until the path itself dissolves and I can dance in the beauty and the pure joy of the open field before me.