Gripping

     As I finished writing my story for the month, I suddenly realized that this is a very appropriate topic for the upcoming season: fall. I know technically we're still in summer, but fall will be rounding the corner quickly. I've long held great reverence for the autumn season, not only because of the transitioning weather and the excuse to wear striped, knee-high socks, but because of the symbol of the falling leaves. What a perfect metaphor for letting go to make room for something new. And, as I find tends to happen, I'm finding this concept is very, very, relevant in my life right now.

     It's strange to me how attachment manifests itself in my life. Or, rather, funny and startling. There will inevitably always be something that surprises me, no matter how long I continue my journey towards awareness. That's the cautionary tale I tell myself: “You don't know everything.” You don't have to know everything. Believe me, that's a hard lesson for me to accept. But, as I've been kindly reminded by others (and myself), the most important step is to notice, acknowledge. Hello, my name is Tasia. I have attachments.

     In this moment it's a passing comment between friends that unearthed information I wasn't aware of. Information I maybe didn't want to know or didn't think I was ready to hear. Information that potentially shakes a core part of me that was gripping tightly to a former sense of reality, a former conception of history. My history. A new friend reminded me recently that we create stories in our heads, and those stories become our reality, even if it's all a bunch of made up shit that has nothing to do with what's really going on. And when those stories get interrupted, falsified, disillusioned? Oh damn, stop the car!

     You see, I am constantly relearning that there is a big difference between my experience, and the story I make up around that experience. Which brings us to an interesting question: what version of our history, and by extension, our present, do we hold on to?

     My past is clearly imprinted on my skin, on my heart, like a tattoo that is continually being worked on, added to. Yet as I feel more, feel new things, the perpetual change creates a vastness to my soul and freedom of my spirit that cannot be contained by my perception of where I thought I was or who I think I am. It's the little things that hold me to old perceptions, too. Tricky things. Instinctive habits. You know what I'm talking about. I've found when I don't let something end, it haunts me as a ghost, whispering in my ear unintelligible words... Yet those words are so very powerful.

     These small things that tie us to made up stories: habits, thoughts, words—they are gateways. In my case, they are literally paths held open so that communication with certain people that were a part of my life might continue in the future. As if my life were in a deadlock, in flat tension that does not vibrate towards new growth, but towards staying in the same place. Static. This is not the nature of living things.

     It is perhaps an odd correlation, but my asana practice has been a mirror to this same concept. Specifically, I've long since held certain assumptions and opinions about what my body could and couldn't do. In part, those assumptions linger because of old injuries and having to be mindful, but mostly because of fear and letting certain time-limited restrictions define my abilities. I get used to how my body is, and feels. I'm totally convinced of my physical capabilities. But! Oh, but! My reality only changes when I let it go. Let it go, let it fly free, think of not what I once couldn't do, but what I might be able to do. Persistence is a fabulous word when put into practice, as I've found through my determination to practice forearm headstand every day. Gripping the floor for so long only to raise my feet to the sky and let them fly. Before, it never even crossed my mind that I could even attempt such a thing. But I say it again, there will always be something that surprises me. Pleasant surprise, or no, they're often nudges to illuminate an old thought that may no longer suit me. Me. Present moment Self. How will I paint myself today?

     I would love to hear of any stories you have! What are some recent moments when you realized you were holding on to something that no longer suited your present Self? Comment below, or leave comment on our facebook page. And don't forget to have a wonderful, challenging, and engaging month, beautiful yogis! Let's bring in fall with a bang. 

Namaste!