Letting go.

For my birthday, my husband treated me to a massage with my favorite massage therapist in the whole wide world.  This lovely woman is far from being simply a massage therapist.  She is an absolute healer of the soul.  Knowing my body needed a reset and my soul needed the comfort, I booked the appointment with her for the day before my birthday to kick off my "birthday weekend".  This year, I turn 33. For some reason, a lot of people have said this or something close to this when they find out I'm turning 33... "Oh, Jesus was 33 when he started teaching."  I've heard it more than a few times already.  It's kind of misinformation though, because Jesus actually died at 33 (says the Bible, yadda yadda, but who knows, right?).  Anyway, maybe I'm supposed to teach something?  I have learned so much, but I feel I am still learning so much more every day.  I have no idea what it is the universe is perhaps nudging at me to begin to teach if that, in fact, is the message I am being given.

During my sublime massage, I was thinking about this whole teaching thing and couldn't come up with any conclusions about it.  Maybe simply going back to teaching yoga is it?  My body was being loved and worked and so I stopped trying to figure anything at all out and just melted into the massage table and let the moment carry me away.  There were little knots everywhere, especially in my back which is to be expected considering I'm carrying my baby for most of the day and she weighs about as much as a robust Thanksgiving turkey does.  Everything was being worked out and she was opening spaces in my body and my mind as her graceful and loving hands always do.

Then she got to my hands.  I have never in my life felt my hands so tight and sore- especially my thumbs.  My mind began to wander again and I began asking myself "What could it be?"  I know that things all start in the mind and then make their way into the body.  And most times after that, if they're not dealt with then they are projected out and mirrored back to you.  But I couldn't think of what could be keeping the muscles in my hands in such a state.  As she was getting in there, I mentally released whatever was in there and immediately felt a softening.  But I still couldn't help but wonder where those feelings of tension originated from.

When she was done with my massage, I emerged from that room a new woman.  My body had been put back in place.  I took a moment to look around because things even looked different.  Even my eyes had relaxed enough to see things as they are.  I hadn't had a moment like that in quite some time.  I hugged my hunny when he picked me up- I squeezed extra specially hard from the overwhelming gratitude I had in my heart towards him for making this massage possible for me and for so many, many, many things.  My daughter smiled from ear to ear at the sight of me and I gave her a yummy squeeze.

On the ride home, I was talking to my hun about my hands.  I could tell by the look in his eye, he was really considering my feelings about this too and after a minute of silence he came to me with this whopper:

"Have you thought that maybe you're still grasping at your old life?  Holding on to things too tight?  Maybe you need to let go and then your hands will soften up."

I took a moment to collect myself from that.  The moment he vocalized his speculation, I knew that was exactly it.  I am holding on too tight.  The other day I heard a podcast where I could have sworn that the swami was talking directly and only to me.  He kept repeating, "The past does not exist.  The past is dead."  It all came rushing into my consciousness in a flood of realization and awareness.  I am holding on too tight.

So, the first thing to do is identify what I'm holding on too tight to.  That's easy- to life before baby.  But the past is gone so I'm holding on to something imaginary and in the meantime, my baby is growing up.  She's learning something new every day and I can either go along for the ride or keep sitting here singing a sad country song about how life will never be the same and someone stole my pickup truck and my best friend ran off with my husband.  I already feel like I missed enough the first several weeks because of how much pain I was in.  I don't know if I ever really SAW her those first few weeks.  And I look back at those beautiful pictures of a tiny her all the time and always get misty because I barely remember those first moments.  I know I have tended to hold on to things that aren't there anymore- sometimes even to things that were never there- out of nostaligia, out of love, out of miscommunication, out of denial.

I've often heard that being an adult means knowing exactly where you stand.  But I believe being totally aware of your life and being able to flow with it, enjoy it for whatever it is and completely immerse yourself in it is actually a sign of still being childlike in your heart.  Maybe that's where all this is going.  Maybe my daughter is helping me understand much more than I imagined she would.  As she lets go of every day, hour, second that passes, I too learn the power of now.  Maybe I am being called to teach but I am absolutely certain I am being urged to learn.