Through my tears, I discovered the source, with a little help from Ayurveda.
I have recently concluded one course of study on Ayurveda in its traditional form of school.
Along with self-study, I have entered another formal school to assist in having a teacher to help guide me. And lots of homework, quizzes, and experiential projects.
My goal is not to load lots of Sanskrit and Ayurveda terms and detailed information but to take a smidgeon of one lecture to investigate and share a recent experience.
I found myself drowning in an ocean of tears. Bitter-tasting huge buckets from the inner corners of my eyes.
According to Ayurveda, the knowledge of life and sister science to yoga, there are three doshas: vata, pitta, and kapha. In my studies, I have been learning that each dosha has five sub doshas. In my recent training and in this current one, we are only delving lightly. Yet still my grey matter is going wild.
One of the sub doshas of pitta is alochaka pitta. It is in our eyes and allows their color and sheen. Although there is much to say, I will just mention the interesting piece that the alochaka pitta relates to our emotions and can be expressed through our tears.
Who knew? Well, Ayurveda did.
And, hold on to your coffee cup. Our tears form in places related to the dosha. Inner eye tears are vata, middle—pitta, and outer—kapha.
As my teacher was reading this section, she got to the part of the inner tears, those closest to your nose. She read that they were associated with sadness, grief, fear.
And I started crying, suddenly, my whole body was shaking with streams of tears. From the inner corners, my vata of my vata pitta.
What was going on?
Back to the eyes, they give us optical images.
Not long after my weeping bout, I went into my kitchen to do routine tasks—always a way to put the mind at rest. And sometimes bury emotions under thick piles of chopped organic produce letting it rot to compost.
I reached into the fridge for two lemons to cut into four pieces each. As I glanced down, I smiled at the vast difference in their sizes. Yellow makes me smile. I paused. Taking a square white plate from the cabinet, I carried the plate and uncut lemons, placed them on the floor by my houseplants. I took the vase of five sunflowers I bought Saturday from a young, wavy-brown-haired vendor and went to retrieve my cellphone from its EMF station.
I snapped a photo, and one more just in case. I smiled. Yellow makes me smile.
Snippets were entering my grey matter. My rash outburst of tears during a serious lecture. The color yellow. Flashes of memories recent and some not-so-recent.
I am still processing this, self-therapy Ayurvedic style. Perhaps I will reach out for another consultation.
I leave you with lots of unanswered questions. I am going to draw upon this tiny morsel of Ayurveda teaching, my meditation, journaling, and also some valuable tools I learned last year in a 10-day Trauma Consciousness course I took on Commune.
Until we meet again. I leave you with this:
Yellow wraps her arms around my heart,
She soothes my ache, my disconnect.
She feels my lonely bones,
And touches gingerly with such art.
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