Driving back home from work three days following a trip that I can only describe like so ---Relaxing in the the hot sun, meditating under water, dancing to sunset winds, diving with fish of all kind of sizes, textures and colours along deep and shallow waters, in and out of caves and shipwrecks, in the morning light and the darkness of the night, sleeping on the deck in the fresh breeze of night, clinging wine glasses with random strangers who soon became friends and teaching my first yoga classes to students eager to learn--my mind shifts in search for something missing. Slipping back in the rhythm of work is never easy for a human race that most often than not resists the changes in the flow of life. So here I am driving home yet missing something. Perhaps its the fish or the breeze or the beautifully shaped landscape of mountains dotted with clouds or stars reflected in the deep red sea. Naturally created imagery that freed my mind of any ill-serving thoughts and emotions. But soon enough I realized that I was missing her, again.
It feels strange coming home with your father and sister after a week long vacation without running upstairs to fill her in about the details of the trip. It feels quite frustrating to say the least. The overwhelming frustration I felt urged me to write this blog to give you snap shot of what missing the dead feels like.
The first snap shot. "click, click". Sometimes it feels as though your locked up in prison. Have you ever considered how people feel when they get a life sentence. Guilty or innocent, I would presume that the prisoner experiences a sudden jolt that I like to call "go back in time syndrome" desperately seeking to traverse back in time to smell, hear, kiss, or touch something or someone one last time. Contrary to modern positive thinking approaches, when a prisoner realizes that positive thinking will not bring him any step closer to his dream, he becomes very agitated and frustrated. "I just wish" "one last time" and "why" are the questions whirling above his head. Filled with energy that refuses to accept reality the prisoner lunges forward grabs the bars of the prison and attempts to.........pull them out of the ground? Tare them to squeeze through? Impossible scenarios that reflect the truly delirious nature that the poor prisoner has reached. Soon enough, when his energy is released, he crouches to the ground and passes out. I suppose its a little like other stress releasing mechanism going for a run, a swim, smashing a tennis ball or punching a punching bag.
The second snap shot. "Click Click." Sometimes it feels as though you're in a world protected with a glass ceiling. Those outside can see what's inside but you can't see or interact with what's outside. Have you ever seen children surround an ice cream trucks, in the circus or on a merry-go round? Gleefully hoping beaming imagery and echoing sounds thats resonates beyond the glass ceiling. But on the other-side, people can only watch. They can't join even if they want to. They may feel a little like that prisoner. Or if we want to remain gleefully free then, perhaps, we can imagine that they-the outsiders- can share in our gleefulness despite being unable to participate.
What's the moral of this corny story? The choice is yours. For the prisoner, accepting the life sentence is easier but acceptance in itself is an art that very few master. As for the gleeful children, imagining that happiness lies both on the inside and outside of the looking glass is more comforting. But if the other side looks like a dark prison cell than are we in denial?
Depends on the prisoner. Is SHE the kind of person who would accept the life sentence or is SHE of the kind who would wail, shout and complain uncontrollably frustrated at HER inability to get what SHE wants- contact with the outside world?
Can you take a guess what choice my mother would have made?
It feels strange coming home with your father and sister after a week long vacation without running upstairs to fill her in about the details of the trip. It feels quite frustrating to say the least. The overwhelming frustration I felt urged me to write this blog to give you snap shot of what missing the dead feels like.
The first snap shot. "click, click". Sometimes it feels as though your locked up in prison. Have you ever considered how people feel when they get a life sentence. Guilty or innocent, I would presume that the prisoner experiences a sudden jolt that I like to call "go back in time syndrome" desperately seeking to traverse back in time to smell, hear, kiss, or touch something or someone one last time. Contrary to modern positive thinking approaches, when a prisoner realizes that positive thinking will not bring him any step closer to his dream, he becomes very agitated and frustrated. "I just wish" "one last time" and "why" are the questions whirling above his head. Filled with energy that refuses to accept reality the prisoner lunges forward grabs the bars of the prison and attempts to.........pull them out of the ground? Tare them to squeeze through? Impossible scenarios that reflect the truly delirious nature that the poor prisoner has reached. Soon enough, when his energy is released, he crouches to the ground and passes out. I suppose its a little like other stress releasing mechanism going for a run, a swim, smashing a tennis ball or punching a punching bag.
The second snap shot. "Click Click." Sometimes it feels as though you're in a world protected with a glass ceiling. Those outside can see what's inside but you can't see or interact with what's outside. Have you ever seen children surround an ice cream trucks, in the circus or on a merry-go round? Gleefully hoping beaming imagery and echoing sounds thats resonates beyond the glass ceiling. But on the other-side, people can only watch. They can't join even if they want to. They may feel a little like that prisoner. Or if we want to remain gleefully free then, perhaps, we can imagine that they-the outsiders- can share in our gleefulness despite being unable to participate.
What's the moral of this corny story? The choice is yours. For the prisoner, accepting the life sentence is easier but acceptance in itself is an art that very few master. As for the gleeful children, imagining that happiness lies both on the inside and outside of the looking glass is more comforting. But if the other side looks like a dark prison cell than are we in denial?
Depends on the prisoner. Is SHE the kind of person who would accept the life sentence or is SHE of the kind who would wail, shout and complain uncontrollably frustrated at HER inability to get what SHE wants- contact with the outside world?
Can you take a guess what choice my mother would have made?
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