Disclaimer: We all have voices in our heads and they usually disagree about almost everything. You may not call them voices. You may call them habits and urges and inner struggle. Mine are voicy. Not audible. I can’t physically hear them, but when they voice an opinion it is loud and clear.
In this piece of writing there are two voices…maybe more will chime in later as I process this while identity issue.
So before I give the floor to the first headspace speaker, let me respond to Elaine, who encouraged me to align with spirit rather than with ego.
I’m trying. This Fall of the Tower of Ego has been ugly and frightening. Keep praying for me, ok?
The mantra Ajay Alay describes God by describing what god is not and I am chanting it today while I work on this identity problem hoping I can figure out who I am after all ego falls aMy yoga practice is an effort to give the control over to God, to that still small voice inside that guides me if I can be quiet enough to listen.
I wouldn’t bother with all this crap unless it really mattered. I was going to start this piece off all philosophical and la la freaking da, and it may get that way in a minute, but first let me tell you that I don’t go around thnking about myself just to entertain myself or because I love my self or any of those other selfish things that less introspective folks accuse us intro’s of doing. I am working on this self because I don;t want to waste a lifetime, I don;t want to f*&^ up any body eles’s life and I am 58 years old, so I do not have time to lolligag. I need to find out why I am here, Who I am here and if I landed in the right zygote or not.
Now I will step aside and let a softer version of this thing called Self take the reign.
Key Note Speaker:
Am I the only one, or did you ever long for God to get to the bottom line and just call you by name once and for all?
I’m sorry, but I am having a little trouble following an intro with that much passion. Compared to that I sound like I am already half dead.
Let the truth speak for itself, sister.
I always had a feeling that if God could just say it once, just call me once by this true name I’d know what to do: what to eat and drink, what to study, what to do to be well.
It would be like stricking a bell, the sound of it would call me into action so that I could exist in the way God intends for me to exsist.
Before I left the sangha, someone recommended a book called Practice You, a journal, by Elena Brower.
It’ a beautiful book. I am trying to fill it in carefully and as an art and soul project. The first exercise asks us to meditate and answer the question ‘Who am I?”
Tough one. I don’t know. So I go for the truth.
Who am I? I am Becoming. I am a new being, breaking out of an old body.
I am not identified with the relationships that used to define me, that used to tell me who and where and how I ought to be. I am not seeking pity when I say this, but I think I failed thoses roles. I did my best, but I was not a stable mother, and because of that, I am not given the chance to be a good grandmother. So I guess I let resentment defines me a little. I am someone who is ready to let go of resentent.
I am not a wife. I’ve been separated from my husband since 1995 but we never divorced. I am the ghost town bride without the wedding gown. Ha! I can hear the wind–that hot wind that blows through the desert where John and I played house—I can hear that particular wind blow through my bones.
People say ‘Forget the past!’ and you can do that, but the past will stick to you like the gown on La Llrona until you take care of whatever haunts you.
I am not a yoga teacher, not a nice person, not a holy person or a hard worker or calm, tranquil, creative, loving person. None of those are me. I thought they defined me but I was wrong. They wouldn’t define any of us because we could be any of those descriptors at any given moment and it could all change in a heart beat.
If I had to pin it down I’d say look for me this way: I am part tree, part wild bird, stray cat, lost dog, ant. I am part river and part sky. I’m a tumbleweed. I am a word misspoken–the one you wish you could take back. I am nobody special, one of a kind, a wabi-sabi sombody. I am grateful for the chance to be. I’ not finished.
But that’s just me.
So if God calls me by name, how will he call all of that in one breath? How has God called you? Do you know your name?