The first time I was asked to do a 40 day meditation
of the same sequence and chant for every single one of those 40 days straight,
my grandmother died suddenly.
The person who promised to be there, vanished.
3,000 miles from the true home I know and all I could do-- was sit. With all of it.
I couldn't skip a day-- in Kundalini Yoga, you miss Day 39 of those 40 days and because Truth is your name, you start again at Day 1. The last thing I wanted to do was be this-- still, this silent.
You know the silence.
When a room gets so quiet that the solitude creates its own vibration and all you can do it grasp both ears with sweaty palms to drown out the sound but it's louder than any song and it consumes you.
..all I found, were these hands.
Two hands, all ten of my own fat fingers.
It took me 25 years of life here to really look at my hands--
to appreciate all that they hold, all that they touch, their ability to feel.
I woke up morning after morning with both of them twisted together, exactly this way.
There's something beautiful to be said
about what we can learn to accept and transform
in the moments life becomes most raw
and all else fades but ourselves.
All ten of these fingers.
There's something beautiful
in the way we can learn that true light doesn't come from simply imagining it to be so--
but by trucking through the darkness with only these arms wrapped around us.
Those 40 days were finished and these hands,
they have grown the desire to experience every experience going on around them.
We are learning the art of a tight grip just as fast as the art of letting go and taking note of that gap between Integrity and Detachment
of the same sequence and chant for every single one of those 40 days straight,
my grandmother died suddenly.
The person who promised to be there, vanished.
3,000 miles from the true home I know and all I could do-- was sit. With all of it.
I couldn't skip a day-- in Kundalini Yoga, you miss Day 39 of those 40 days and because Truth is your name, you start again at Day 1. The last thing I wanted to do was be this-- still, this silent.
You know the silence.
When a room gets so quiet that the solitude creates its own vibration and all you can do it grasp both ears with sweaty palms to drown out the sound but it's louder than any song and it consumes you.
..all I found, were these hands.
Two hands, all ten of my own fat fingers.
It took me 25 years of life here to really look at my hands--
to appreciate all that they hold, all that they touch, their ability to feel.
I woke up morning after morning with both of them twisted together, exactly this way.
There's something beautiful to be said
about what we can learn to accept and transform
in the moments life becomes most raw
and all else fades but ourselves.
All ten of these fingers.
There's something beautiful
in the way we can learn that true light doesn't come from simply imagining it to be so--
but by trucking through the darkness with only these arms wrapped around us.
Those 40 days were finished and these hands,
they have grown the desire to experience every experience going on around them.
We are learning the art of a tight grip just as fast as the art of letting go and taking note of that gap between Integrity and Detachment