There are three things I know about myself; I hate change, I resist change and my “story” is that change is not my friend. Simultaneously there are two things I know about the Universe; everything changes and resistance is futile.
Last week was a whopper, a butt kicker, a doosie (insert your favorite phrase here). In the midst of said week things were coming at me from all directions. My survival method kicked in, I put my head down and plowed through. Finally, on Thursday morning space opened up in my schedule and I had a moment to hit pause. The feel of the sun on my skin and the sound of the wind chimes on the porch softened the gripping on my body and in my mind. Sitting in quiet reflection I was able to step back and become aware of why I felt so shut down mentally and emotionally. During this pause I became aware that my friend resistance was sitting next to me.
Resistance and I are friends because he brings to me information about my inner longing, my inner sadness, and what I am struggling to grasp onto that I know will inevitably change. It is in this moment of watching and turning inward that I am most deeply in the practice of Yoga. I was faced with a quick decision Thursday morning, should I resist the resistance, while scolding myself for my imperfections or simply receive the message that resistance delivers? In the wise words of Swami Kripalu, “Self observation without judgement is the highest form of spiritual practice.” In line with this practice, the moment that I meet resistance, name him, and sit with him eye to eye, that is the moment I align with truth.
Jai Bhagwan. Victory the the Light within each of us. ~Susan
When the cold sets in,
deep into my bones,
the darkness comes early
and holds me like a hostage.
And I resist its hold.
My shoulders hunch
and I curl in toward myself
like a seed
and wait for Spring.
I wait and wait
and wait some more,
I light the fire and
draw a bath of warm water.
Sinking in, my cold skin is warmed
but inwardly my shoulders still hunch
and I growl at winter,
like a petulant child who needs
The water laps at the edges of my body, inviting me to let go.
Meanwhile the fire crackles,
enticing me to sit for a while.
I wrap myself in the warm embrace
of my robe and pour a cup of tea
I stare Resistance in the eye.
He doesn’t blink or look away,
but instead, looks back unabashedly
with his dark eyes
and stares me down.
Finally I look away.
Three long breaths flow into my belly.
As I feel the breath
rise up into my chest,
my shoulders melt.
I open my eyes.
He is gone.