If you know what life is worth,
You will look for yours on Earth,
For now we see the light,
Stand UP for our rights!’~Robert Nesta Marley
After the week I’ve had, I’m lucky to be able to even crawl, let alone stand. Sometimes even the strongest of us get weary. Perhaps when we are brought to our knees it is to provide us with the much needed respite to rise again, even stronger than we could possibly envision.
On Tuesday, a call for help to a kindred spirit read like this:
“Seriously contemplating going into self-imposed exile for a few days. Grim is the word that describes the mood. Dressed in full black today from head to toe – generally not a color I choose – after years of living in Dutch winter I vowed I would limit black in my wardrobe. But alas, perhaps it absorbs as it reflects my dark mood.
Overly exhausted and increasingly questioning, how does one do their duties fully when those duties lack fulfillment, from the minute I step through my door ah morning time, Jamaican patois for in the mornings, the hand-outs begin — before I’ve even left the apartment complex. I then wade through abject poverty within the safety of my work assigned 4WD listening to the news en Francaise, offering even further despair from around the world; and then I arrive at work to confront all sorts of egos who’ve completely missed the point of why we’re here.”
Being labeled as a humanitarian, aid worker, yogi or do-gooder does not absolve one of human flaws.
Perhaps it’s me and my idealistic self that has missed the point and forgotten to focus on drinking milk rather than counting cows!
The forth-coming response:
“I’m feeling you…
Just be the witness…..that’s all.”
Bam, in less than ten words space is created as something shifts and I observe the self, and slowly begin the journey of untangling my seemingly self-indulgent web of ugh.
But now here comes the rub:
What if the observed can’t stand being witnessed?
Awareness, consciousness, compassion, empathy, intuition, integrity – these are all loaded with a responsibility from which the observer may wish to escape.
As if the observer weren’t enough unwelcome company, here comes the judge, inquisitively wanting to know the whereabouts of the yogini who should enable you to handle this. Quickly she retorts, “I’m aspiring to be a yogini, not a saint! Give me a break!”
Friday afternoon: The Observer and the Observed are finally seeing “eye to eye.” Both agree that to take one’s self too seriously is detrimental to one’s well-being. Absolutely, dare to dream and visualize, while enjoying the present moment. The Warrior-ess returns, smiling as she remembers to be gently mindful while lovingly honoring her boundaries.
In gratitude of my blessings, here’s been my mantra, refuge and strength that held me up and got me through the door during this tumultuous week when the temptation to keep the covers pulled over my head has been at an all time high:
‘Still I count my blessings I’ve joy in abundance I’ve got life full of substance I’ve got meetings and functions So I count my blessings I’ve got something to live for I’ve got surplus to give more And we’re all welcome through His door So I count my blessings And give thanks to the master That through all the disaster We’re still here together after So I count my blessings.’~Distant Relatives by Damian Marley and Nas
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