I am grateful for all the people in my life this past year: my friends, teachers, and my yoga students. You’ve reminded me daily throughout this icky time of mine that there is sweetness to be found in stickiness.
When I look at the moon and the night sky, I’m reminded how vast life is. And I think right at this moment you—my friend, teacher, and student—might look at the moon too.
I scoop out a spoonful of honey. It’s rough; it’s the hard kind. It stays on the spoon and doesn’t drop. The texture looks like fresh snow, powder as light as a feather. But this spoonful of honey is heavy and dense. It looks the same with its sparkles, but it’s not. Situations can look the same, but beneath the surface they are not. They are completely different. Nevertheless, sometimes the deep structure is the same, the essence, but it looks different on the surface. Good ol’ syntax will teach you all that. Still, fresh powdered snow glitters just like hard crumbly honey.
A couple of months ago I tried the soft kind of honey, the kind that hangs and falls off the spoon. It’s messy, that one; I didn’t like it at all. I had to twirl and turn the spoon to defy gravity and there was only a short window of time to put the spoon into my mug before it dripped all over the place. What a mess. Today, I know that I prefer the hard and dense kind. I prefer it because of taste; I prefer it because it reminds me that I can soften and open up.
There is really no difference in the two; it’s still honey. My friend with blue eyes isnot any different to me than my friend with green eyes; the same goes for hair, skin, and country you come from. Even as yoga students, the deep structure of our emotional work is the same, we all have to work on the stuckness that we have inside. It’s only the surface that shows you as less flexible or hypermobile. There are students working on flexibility, others work on strength, yet we all store some amount of ‘ickiness’ in our bodies. Our work is to turn inward.
The consequences of our actions are the fruit of our choices. Life is messy and hard, sometimes sticky to say the least. When something is essentially the same it can still come in different shapes and textures. Look at a yoga pose that you’ve tried a year ago, it does not look the same as today. You’ve progressed because you’ve worked on it.
The yoga path reminds me of honey. Honey when heated will turn into a smooth liquid and it can sweeten up so many things, on a daily basis. Having you—my friend, my teacher, my student—in my life does exactly that to my soul. The icky spots in our bodies can soften; as we breathe into areas of stuckness we move them and warm them up. Through our sadhna (practice) we create tapas (heat). We make the honey soft.
When I look at the stars or when I scoop out a bit of honey to sweeten my tea, I’m reminded that we—together—share experiences and moments. I know that our path is in front of us and we evolved from where we were. Yet the stars have been there for thousands of years, evolving so slow we literally can’t grasp that concept. Only perhaps, with the thought of patience…? The stars are the eyes of the universe, sparkling and watching over the sweetness of life, moving with our breath, the core of our existence.