Finally, after at least a week, I pulled out my yoga mat and did my thirty minutes from Yoga Shakti. Even though I always feel better afterwards, I often find excuses not to a mere thirty minutes. Today I had planned on not practicing. Yesterday my mind was determined to start back on a healthy plan Monday, not Saturday. Monday is always a good day to begin, right? Saturday is a day to rest. Or do laundry. Or clean the bathtub. But Saturday is definitely not a good day to start (or begin again) a routine. Thankfully my life is occasionally graced with God doing for me what I cannot do for myself. No, God did not pull out my mat or turn on the DVD (Bill actually helped with that because three remotes sometimes baffles me, but I digress) yet there I was, breathing as the mantras filled the space between my ears and moving into Sun Salutation.
As the movements shifted into Utthita Trikonasana, my eyes caught sight of my river glass filled hurricane jar. And I realized how beautiful each piece looks, how different yet the same and all made more beautiful together in the jar.
Individually, their flaws are quite apparent. Each piece is broken and discarded; every one of them cast aside to tumble over miles of stone and fallen trees. But only after their difficult journey do they appear on the riverbank, rough edges worn down smooth, broken yet no longer painful.
As a collection, the colors compliment each other. The brokenness is not the first thing I see, instead it is the blended beauty, the mosaic of all that brokenness joined together in a pastel mélange.
I need to be part of a community where my brokenness is not the first thing you notice. It’s still there; it’s still very much a part of who I am, but not all of who I am. I need to see the brokenness of others to recognize the hope that lives in the light of us all. Separate, alone, I cannot see the light and I live in fear of the darkness. I need others who have tumbled through the river and emerged worn, but smooth. And I need to be part of the potpourri for others to see my brokenness, because only together can we heal. Yesterday, just when I thought I’d chuck it all and quit joining and participating, when I was tired of all the people and humanness, I read Zen & The Kingdom of Heaven, where Chetwynd says,
“In the long story of Zen, there are many who achieve enlightenment and then just delight in it – bowling around the back alleys of life, poets and wastrels enlightening one or two others if they get the chance…But personally…I could not help being more grateful to those who had worked unstintingly to transmit the universal truth from one generation of spiritual followers to the next, until the opportunity to experience it finally reached me.”
Pow! OK, OK, I get it. As hard as it is some days I’ll keep trudging the road with my brothers and sisters because Jesus sent his followers out in twos, not alone.
Thanks for walking with me today.
And because it’s been playing in my head, here is part of the chorus from James McMurtry’s song Rayolight:
These old rough edges we keep finding
Just got to work ‘em awhile till they wear down
smooth and shiny
(The video is silly, but the song is good so you might just listen and not look)
And while you’re at it, why not read this:
Mindfully Healing: Hope
