Tuesday, July 2, 2013
The yoga of sadness
There are so many ways to get hurt, for our hearts to break. We want assurance that it will be safe, but love offers no such thing. But we have no choice – we must open, we are love fools. We sense that things are soon to be incredibly sticky, messy, gooey, gummy, mushy, slimy, and unbearably unresolvable; but still, we must see for ourselves. It is not safe, it is not certain, there is no guarantee that we will come out the other side. We know that we will not be able to take any of our images with us, that all of our spiritual fables and tales of specialness will be burned up as we enter love’s gates, for it has no interest in those. We have to ask ourselves: is this what we really want?
Everything is so fresh in the moment, never to be repeated: the redness of red, the blueness of blue, the purpleness of purple. We are falling in love with this life as it is. We stand by as the habitual demand for more (more peace, more joy, more sweetness, more awakening, more specialness, more amazing “powerful” experiences, a “better” partner) is burned away. Each sensation, each feeling, each emotion comes as an invitation, pleading to show you one of love’s essential qualities.
And then you’re left with a deep, embodied feeling of sadness, in awe at how precious this whole thing is, how sensitive we are, how fragile this heart is, how much we truly have to give. It is the yoga of raw tender vulnerable sadness, the yoga of the willingness to be broken-open, and to stay there… forever.