My normal habit is pushing myself until exhaustion. For me there are always things that have to get done, people with expectations (including myself), and those responsibilities don't even count the housework I never get to. However, trying to follow this path, I said to myself You are tired. You are sore from your fall (yes, fell on the abundance of ice). Would you want to let God be exhausted and sore and push through? No. Honor the light in you. And so, that is what I did.
Now all of us could make excuses for why we need to nurture ourselves. We can also make excuses of why we are not good enough. When I started this project of mine last Sunday, I thought it was so easy until day three into my experiment. After all, about a decade ago, I started really watching my mind, my thoughts. I had gone inside and learned to be my own best friend, knowing that I was enough. I was single at the time and needed to nurture the part of me that was alone. It was O.K. to be single. If I heard a funny joke, I could share that joke with myself and laugh all over again. If I had an accomplishment, I could be proud of myself. With that came watching my thoughts, trying to avoid any negative mantras I had for myself, and really being conscientious of my thoughts in general. Time however, had softened my discipline.
So, three days into my Bhakti path I started to see my thoughts. Like for many Vatta's (one of three Ayurvedic doshas), my mind races a mile a minute so much so that I can become completely ignorant of what my previous thought was because I've moved on. I started to see these quick flutters of words scrambling through my brain. Some were nonsense. Some were problem-solving. Some were "What Ifs." Some were self-loathing. Some were prideful. I needed to once again pay attention to and discipline my thoughts. I decided the best way to start doing this was to take a two-pronged approach.
First, I would catch any negative thoughts that I could, and turn them into positive ones, seeing everything through the eyes of love. Trying to turn negative thoughts wasn't as difficult as I thought it might be, but I had to practice it often, like when I was shoveling a foot of snow. Instead of being frustrated by shoveling, I had to think about how I have not had a true snow day (one where work was canceled), since I was a teenager. Instead of being frustrated at trying to match up an abundance of black socks that all looked the same, I thought about how grateful I am to have socks, let alone an abundance of them.
Second, I was going to try to be more present-minded; I was going to attempt to focus only on the task at hand. Fortunately for me, the car accident I had last October helped me realize what being present-minded really is. While my brain was recovering, for over a week, I only thought of exactly what I was doing. It was quiet in there. When I stood up, my mind thought, I am standing up. When I chewed, my mind thought, I am chewing food. It didn't race on about the texture, temperature, or even flavor of the food. It was a singular focus.
As I moved through this realization, I decided to commit myself to doing a Bhakti Heart of Devotion workshop and celebration. Instead of carefully thinking about it and giving myself time to make excuses as to why I should not do it (time, not enough experience with this type of event, etc.) I threw myself into the planning and scheduling of this workshop. And without expectation, I received a pat on the back.
By mid-week I received an email indicating that PremaHara, a kirtan Bhakti duo, was going to be in town this spring and was interested in doing a kirtan event at Barefoot. How much sweeter could that have been? It was as if I was being told Good Susan. You are doing the work. And now here's little something to melt into devotion and share.
Today, I start on my week two of the Bhakti path. I'm sure it will be quite a ride of learning and loving.
