Thursday, February 2, 2012

The Lightness I Know

So the other day I got a text from a friend asking me for a book recommendation. Oh my gosh, I just felt horrible, I had nothing to say, nothing to give. Ever since I moved to New Mexico, I haven't read anything. The only exception is the few times I was feeling super smartypants about time management, and I read The Taos News. This, from the girl who used to read one or two books a month, at least, AND stay on top of her New Yorkers. Basically, I feel really bad about myself, I ponder the distinct possibility that my mind is going to waste. My teacher Jen asks me to please be more compassionate with myself. She says it takes a lot of energy to set up a brand new life and I'm doing so many things that I've never done before, like trying to take good care of my car, answering questions about kayaks in Hawaii, and writing my freaking blog.

Enough is enough. When I woke up this morning, I read something I've always wanted to read: Book Three of The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. For the record, girlfriend over here has been a total sacrilege. For years I've gone on and on about how much I love The Yoga Sutras, while all along, I'd only studied the first two books of them. Lots of people talk about how great The Yoga Sutras are with a disclaimer that goes something like, "But book three and four are whack, man, I'm not sure if I can dig it."

Dude. Book Three talks about flying, "By samyama on the relationship between the body and ether, lightness of cotton fiber is attained, and thus traveling through the ether becomes possible." Maybe I lost you. Maybe I lost me. But lightness is something I do like to explore. Paul Valéry says, "Light like a bird and not like a feather." And Gertud Hirschi asks you and me to imagine living our lives like a big bird of prey. She reminds us that, often, when birds of prey are high enough in the air, they don't even have to flap their wings, they just soar. My boyfriend Mike talks about being in a rush and passing the old guy on the two lane highway with love, instead of with his blood pressure pounding.

Today I'm going to the DMV, the perfect opportunity to sit and read, but, LUCKY ME, my mom is in town and she's coming with me. Instead of reading, we're going to make a list of the qualities of the man of her dreams and tell jokes. You know, keep it light, easy breezy, instead of giving ourselves to the potential stress that car titles, registration and eye tests can present.

Sometimes, when I'm in a horrible mood, I tell whoever ends up having to hang out with me that I'm being a crabapple. I say this because I think its funny, and I can't help but smile. This is the lightness I know. For now.

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