Tears Upon the Yoga Mat

I had a profound experience this morning.  They come so few and far between that I felt compelled to write about it.  As I was performing my day off morning ritual of stretching, I believe you new-ageists refer to it as 'Yoga', followed by a brief guided meditation I became new again.  This is one of my many goals in the limited time I have on this pale blue dot.  I want to be new again.  To see things freshly without all of the baggage and pain that I tend to color experience with.  My brush needs new bristles and my paints have all mellowed.  These rare moments of seeing things freshly and from an original perspective, untainted and untarnished by the torment of others and too often myself, revive my color collection and renew my faded canvass...my brush is still a piece of shit.

I decided the guided meditation I was to partake in this morrow was regarding the topic of the inner child.  I know, I just heard your eye balls rolling violently to the back of your skulls.  But seriously people!  I feel transformed...cue next ball rolling.  I know these moments are so very transitory so I must put it to page before the warm feelings and insight escape me.  The meditation was about seeing yourself in a garden with your 'inner child'.  You frolic with your child while telling them positive and forgiving things.  You tell them that you love and respect them and that you're sorry for all of the pain you've allowed others and yourself to cause them.  Well, it was about this time that I lost it.  Truth be told, when I imagined my little kid self, skipping free and oozing with potential in a garden of my mind...my eyes began to well with salty substance.  My little child, me, who so tiny and fragile and open has been hurt by so much of life.  I as an adult force that little frail one to carry the load of all of my mistakes, regrets, and sacrifices.  Seeing myself as a child it was so easy to forgive and apologize for it all.  I am so often excruciatingly hard on myself but when you look at yourself as though you were a wee one, how could anyone put all of that nonsense on a child?  Why is it okay to do it to myself as an adult?

As I told my inner self that I was sorry the tears were unstoppable at this point and I just let them flow, drenching me and my purple yoga mat through.  My eyes closed tight I felt all of the weight I carry dissipate and my child and I ran around my brain garden laughing and holding hands.  It was a beautiful image of solace and reparation.  I felt so sad of what I've done to myself...the terrible story I regurgitate over and over in my head about who and what I am, where I'm going, where I've been and who I'll be next.  What an exorbitant amount of energy this takes.  I'm drained now but instead of being blinded to lifes artistry I am reawakened to it.  At the end of the meditation, I opened the pools where my eyes once to reflect in this moment shared with an earlier self who feels forgiven and renewed.  I left my child in the garden, knowing that I can visit her whenever I want and that she no longer needs to hold the weight I force upon her.  She is free from care.  She is free from wants and empty, passing desires.  She is free from all of the stress and worry that I impose because I fear.  She is free to be safe because I can protect her now.  She is no longer guarded from living as I won't keep her from life.  She is free now, because she is me.