When I open myself, I am vulnerable. I am open. I imagine that the idea of being open will lead me to a place of peace or of what yogis call moksha, liberation.
To be free, I must let go, but my body is at odds with my mind. It wants to hold on tight, to feel in control by maintaining a firm grasp on all that has happened in the past and all that may come to pass in the future.
Breathing in, I feel the push and pull rise up with sharp, deep, pain in my middle and lower back.
Breathing out, I tell my back and the rest of my body that it need not hold onso very tightly.
Breathing in, I remember lying on the floor of my beloved haven of a home in Alaska, unable to get up. It was a time of transition and stress, and my back was telling me to be still.
The pain of transition is felt in my body. The desire to continue my journey, free from the fetters of past hurt, comes from my heart.
Can I move through this pain to get to the other side?
Or will I be consumed on the path to freedom?
Can I find a way to breathe through it all, to find balance and equanimity between body, mind, and heart.
I am all three. All three are part of me.
I choose to move.
I choose to breathe.
I choose moksha.