Photo by roya ann miller on Unsplash
I had a dream the other morning where I was meeting with a colleague to discuss future Yoga classes. The meeting was taking place at her condo, the condo where I teach my classes in real life. A friend of mine used to live there and always said it was like living in a hotel. Indeed I can understand why she felt that way. The lobby is bright and airy. There is a main lounge area flanked by a trickling wall fountain. There are pillars. There are fake plants. There are people buzzing about, waiting in line to receive packages and make endless demands of the front desk staff. It is alive and vibrant and esthetically pleasing. And so it was in my dream.
Having met in this grand space, my colleague and I made our way up to her suite. Stepping inside, my heart skipped a beat from what I saw. The space was tiny. The kitchen was so cramped that D. had to place her fridge in her living room. A second fridge, a falling apart relic from the 1960s, stood up against another wall in the living room. I couldn’t imagine being in the midst of cooking a meal and having to walk into a whole other room to get what I needed. The floor was tiled in beaten up, grey industrial vinyl made to look like marble but failing miserably. The kitchen counters were an homage to 1980s dusty rose. And what was supposed to be a breakfast bar was so small it could barely support the smallest of toaster ovens. No one could eat there. No one could be nourished there. It struck me as the kind of place you’d want to escape from as quickly as possible, a heartbreaker for me who has spent so many fine days of her life in her Grandmother’s kitchen, the heart of the home.
Sitting in the living room on D.’s sagging couch I wondered whether she slept there as well or if there was a bedroom hidden down the dark, dreary corridor to my left. I sat in quiet shock. The suite couldn’t be any more opposite to the grandeur of the front lobby. What was hidden was shabby and definitely in need of nurturance.
All day the image of the contrast between the lobby and the suite stuck with me. It was too vivid for me to think it was anything other than a message. What was the dream trying to tell me? What did it mean? The answer did not take long to come.
Although there’s always room for growth, I am generally very good at caring for my body. I’ve got the herbs and the particular diet going. The morning routine that takes hours to complete, beginning with tongue scraping and ending with my morning practice. I move this body, cleanse this body, take it to the doctor, the dentist, the Ayurvedic practitioner. On the surface all is well, but dig a little deeper and we find that I am absolute shit at caring for my mind and soul. Beyond the level of the body, things have grown tired and worn. There is neglect. There is a sense of stuckness in the past. There are little bits and pieces of things taken from this time of life and attached to that time of life, but there is no updated cohesive whole. Who am I?
When was the last time I took care of myself in a deep way? When did I spend more than a few fleeting moments reading texts that uplift my Spirit? When did I last pick up the pen to write? When was my last blog post? How about visual art? And any movement other than Yoga? How about fostering those friendships? Not much of that going on either. Seeing this, I am able to make some necessary changes. Realization is relief.
We are not meant to be bodies alone. We have deep inner environments that need as much care as the surface. What good are we if we forget to grow the soul, if we don’t know how to channel the mind?
And how many of us are walking around like glistening, empty shells?
How are you doing, in a deep way, beyond the surface? Are you truly getting what you need? Do you feel a deep, abiding peace? A connection with the wider picture? Or have your windows become dirt encrusted and unable to open? What small steps can you take to invite some more sunshine into your world? Do you know what your soul needs? When was the last time you asked? 😉
May we all come to notice when parts of our Selves are starving and in need of our care and attention. May we have the courage to act on that information, to nurture ourselves on all levels. May we live lives beyond the surface that shine from the depths of Divine connection. May we be happy and whole and well.
May it be so.
All my Love,
Tabitha
