Then preceded to attempt at finding a balance in the latest cheap coffee I bought, will not buy cheap coffee again, least not Arabica cheap coffee. I've discovered that I much prefer the gentle wood scents of Sumatra, Arabica smells like Starbucks.
While doing that, I managed to not really check facebook, so much as I responded to a message about the upcoming Equinox ritual tomorrow night. I'm filling the priestess role and my brain is still in yogaland – but at least said brain is functioning. Instead, I grabbed my book and headed out on the patio, after prepping the chairs with their mats and cleaning off the patio from my adventures in sawing window props from my old closet shelves (BTW, I still have a bathroom mirror to whoever wishes to give it a good home, since Pastry won't let me crack it an either make art out of it or send it to the landfill). Lost track of time and spent a good 3 hours out there reading. It's the first time, since I'd bought this place, that I've spent that much time out there. No music, no podcasts, just birds and cats chasing carpenter bees. And has anyone else realized, how stupid carpenter bees can be? They fly around like they have a broken horizon and bounce into things. Knowing how a bee's eye is set up, I can understand that whole "seeing triple" issue, but really, I'd think they could see in 3D.
Anyway, the Yoga book of the month is Yoga Bitch, and OMG, I loved it. This is definitely going to be one of those books I re-read, a lot. Need to put it on the blogroll as well. When it was suggested, it was described as "Everything we all went through, and then some." Which is so true. Granted, we weren't in Bali, and our classmates aren't as spread out as we are, but yeah. Everything was there. Right down to my "I'm not giving up coffee for this!" Attitude. Even though I did give up caffeine (unfortunately, it wasn't the caffeine that was driving the adrenals to spaz, but I wouldn't know that if I hadn't given it up!). I know I haven't talked a lot about what went on during training, as I would have liked. But it was mainly because you try to process stuff. And as my NLP instructor pointed out, I'll probably take about 3 years to respond to her, just because I'm trying to process – so she's cool with that, as long as I keep her email. Same with my Yogi Siri, but I do need to call and check up on her, even though I think upon her all the time, and she knows this.
I went into teacher training, expecting something similar to my massage program, which is one reason why it took so long to get here (10 years to be exact) because I needed to get to place where it would be beneficial. I'm of no use to myself or anyone else when I'm jumping and juggling things between the inside and outside world. So it just made sense to wait until the inside world was organized enough to make room for the new stuff I would be adding. And I'm glad, because I dredged canal with yoga. In massage, we worked with compartments, so it was easier to recognize where the issues were and prepare for them, along with the fact that we were getting the psychology of each area at the same time, so I had a framework to work with. As well as an amazing DT partner who made me comfortable enough to talk through the process with (and an awesome psychologist who was one of our teachers/mentors). If I hadn't had that framework, I don't think I would have processed everything that went into yoga training. In yoga, I was dealing with fresh wounds that I had glossed over, or hadn't really taken a good look at to realize how deep they were.
I still have issues with Doug's death, but a wonderful healer has helped me come to grips with that, and realize that he is still here with me when I need him, to just hold my hand while I cry about him. Just as Thorn was holding me in his lap, when he left. Everyone is still here with me, it's that part of Svadyaya that I was never ready to recognize – least, not in my heart. I'm also still reeling from the disappointment from my last break-up and the bullshit that came between the break-ups, the reuniting, the break-ups and the half-assed last attempt. And not just the disappointment, the fact that I sacrificed a part of myself, and shut down a part of myself for the greater good of the union. The hatred I've had towards myself for even considering doing that…again. The loathing I've had for myself, for taking a path I can't return from and changing the inner core of who I was, and having it cast aside. Then having to figure out how to open those areas back up, in a way that allows me to function and love fully – yet not in constant fear. I can now embrace the fact that I wear my heart on my sleeve. That pain from love only comes from giving it conditionally and that guarding it filters it, and does a disservice to the person to whom you give it. And it does a disservice to yourself, because you are denying the greatest gift to your own soul, and living in a cocoon – not the real world. I'm more than certain that I just stated the problem with the culture I live in. We're all so afraid of being ourselves and being honest with ourselves, that we've created this perpetual hell. And it makes me sad.