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I have been absent from
my blog recently, well much longer than I care to admit. I have been on holidays in Greece, writing a
book, teaching, opening a little shop, parenting and so many other small things
that take up a great deal of time.
So time intensive, that I am actually doing very few of the things that
are important to me.
Things that are
essential to my teaching, parenting and self-care: home practice and meditation.
In the past I would have
chastised myself, looked at the meditation cushion guiltily, or stuffed my yoga mat
under the couch. If I happened to catch
a glimpse of a triangle of purple rubber, or the scent of a lavender eye mask, I
would shamefully look the other way and feel even more guilt.
But, as I said, all that
is in the past. The beauty of growing
older, is growing more relaxed, compassionate and soft. Meditation and yoga are not things to squeeze
into my schedule, or to cause suffering and guilt if I miss a day of
practice. In fact, as I grow older, I realise
that my practice lies within all the small things that take up much of my
time, in this stage of my life.
My practice is in the letting go without shame,
without guilt. My practice is in the
joyful promise of yoga on the sand or meditation in a of ray sunlight that
warms the tiles in our lounge room. Or even in the washing of plates and cups
in soapy water at the kitchen sink. It
is during these times that I practice meditation, I practice mindfulness – I don’t
fight or stress, I allow myself to be present in that moment, doing the job that
needs to be done, just as I would if I were using ujjayi breath on the mat, or sitting
on the meditation cushion.
It is with infinite gratitude
that I have access to the extensive experience of meditation and yoga teachers
alike on podcasts and websites. I love
nothing more than taking the dog for a walk and listening to a Tara Brach or
Sharon Salzburg podcast. I can listen to
the same podcast numerous times because they are so rich, so tactile and valuable. As I walk, listen, laugh, and experience
those ‘ahha Oprah’ moments, the wisdom of mindfulness plants itself into my
toes and grows with each step. This
becomes my practice. Walking the dog is not a chore. Rather it is an opportunity
for me to learn. To grow more accepting, more spacious and so as I return to my
numerous and tedious jobs at home, I am not suffering from that internal dialogue
of resentment and harried thoughts.
Gradually I find that I have less resistance and more openness. Life is
lighter even though I can see the purple edge of the mat.
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