“Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.” ~Matsuo Basho
Once, one of my friends shared a line of wisdom that summed up the dance of wholeness and aspiration I often find myself absorbed in:
“Everything is quite all right; our worth secure and true. Everything’s not quite all right; we’ve worthy work to do…”
Part of the longing and neediness I tend to feel comes from a rift between who or where I am, and where I believe I should be to be “successful.”
My life has been colored by this dichotomy: the strange see-sawing dance between achievement and room to grow.
I've struggled endlessly with the concept of my “potential” and the frustrating feeling that potential will always add itself on to the top of any ceiling I break through, creating only more upward space in which to aim, aspire, and yearn.
And yet, any spiritual practice will allow us to see that we are whole, complete, and perfect just as we are in the very moment.
For me, yoga has been a bridge between these two places—where I am and where I want to be.
It encourages me to be grounded, to deepen, to see and experience my wholeness, to accept myself for all my facets—just as I am. It allows me to be a work in progress, allows my life to be a journey, and my emotions a process.
I have utilized yoga and meditation as a tool of self-love, one that then immediately opens into compassion for others, and an expansive sense of self. I live my day with more love, more serenity, and more grace, when I actively dedicate time and energy to tapping into a calmer sense of being.
Yet, there is always something under the surface, stewing. The promise of what I could become. Like a bud that is meant to blossom into a flower, I feel that I am not yet feeling the depth and breadth of the sunlight on my petals.
I have a sense that there is more to this life, that great things are possible. And I am unsure how to unleash whatever is blocking me from tapping into that creative and magnanimous source. Or, if like the butterfly still growing within the safety of the cocoon, if I must still be patient before it is time to fly.
When I neglect my spiritual practice, or cease to pay attention to the serenity that it provides, I often still feel a nagging itch of insatiable curiosity that lingers—a little voice belonging to a seeker who is more in love with the search than with the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
I wonder if that seeker is an engrained part of my personality, or if she will ever find a contentment that she will be content with!
In sum, I have no answers, but only questions I invite you to explore with me:
1. What does it mean for you to be “fulfilled,” “accomplished,” and “successful” in your life?
2. What do you desire in the depths of your heart? Is it within your reach, or even possible that it already resides within?
3. If you take this moment to breathe, to be, do you feel content, settled, and satisfied to be you just as you are?
4. Are you at peace with being both a bud and a flower at the same time?
I always wonder, if I reach all of my dreams, will I really sit at the top of the mountain and feel I have “arrived”?
Do we ever really arrive, or aren't there just peak moments where we get an astonishing and breathtaking view before tying up our boot strings, and heading off towards the next adventure…
Photo by Mapless in Seattle