In yoga we often talk about the way in which emotions we’ve repressed or otherwise disconnected with manifest physically in the body. This can appear in the form of tension or knots in the muscles, or in posture, whether passive, defensive or aggressive. In more severe cases, emotional pain is rendered in illness, whether moderate, as a rash, chronic, such as asthma, or severe, as a tumor. By no means do I suggest this is the only cause of physical ailment, but the heart and mind alike express a lot to us in these tactile ways when we fall deaf to their inherently more subtle means of expression. Not a few times in Yin practice, which is based in principles of deep stretching and meditation, I have very clearly come up against my own resistance; not a few times, acceptance and letting go of the state of the physical has brought me to the verge of tears – not from pain, per se, except, perhaps those inner pangs which spring from breaking through those blockages that keep us from our inner, radiant being. Somehow, taking an honest look at one’s self in this moment, and accepting and making peace with exactly what is, seems one of our greatest challenges as we navigate life. Yet, this is one of the most liberating and empowering things we can do for ourselves.
I wonder if writing, or indeed, any creative self-expression, puts one in that same would-be dangerous spot of making an authentic self-connection, the very type we recoil from lest we see something in ourselves we were trying to avoid. I recall volunteering with a childrens’ art class as a teenager, and being in awe of how uninhibited they were; unburdened by the stigmas we so often cling to as adults, whether it’s “I can’t,” or “I’m not good at that,” or some other variant, they seemed to simply surrender to this inner flow, an inner guidance that allowed them to express something they seemed universally satisfied with. I suspect they also didn’t get caught up thinking too much about it as an end; the power and beauty lay in the means and the intention.
I postulate because I’m surprised at some of the resistance I meet as I focus thoughts and ideas into something cohesive and (hopefully) interesting. I’m obliged to you for your patience as I stumble through the “getting your blogging act together” learning curve. I wonder if any of you have experienced, or continue to experience, something like this in your own creativity? What do you do that helps you overcome your resistance ? What brings you a sense of peace with exactly who you are at this moment?