Jivamukti (it's not what you think)

Where is freedom located?  

In a country?  A landscape?  In nature?

Is it in my foot?  My head?  My heart?

  

There is something incredibly satisfying about that moment when you see that the final knot you are about to unravel is laughable.  You'll have clean, unhindered string in your hands in a moment so you take a moment to savor all the time and turmoil, all those moments when you wanted to cut away the knots and settle for a shorter piece, before you slowly undo those silly first wrinkles that started it all and liberate the string. 

For a whole year I've been the "Princess and the Pea" about this wrinkle in my body, in my practice.  The imperfect perfect back bend.  The gummy left shoulder.  The ache the pain the sensation the nerves the bones the muscles the emotions the drama the drama the drama.  And then an opening.  A real opening.  There are two kinds of "openings":

1.  Sammy locked himself out of his house.  He pulls on the door handle.  He kicks and he screams.  Maybe he breaks a window and busts in.  Maybe he blows up the whole house, digs through the rubble and holds up the shiny key triumphantly while standing on top of what used to be his stove.

2.  Sammy locked himself out of his house.  He realizes there is no way to open the door without a key.  Yes, maybe he has moments of kicking and screaming, but knows deep down that resistance is futile.  So he waits.  He knows that eventually a roommate will come by or a neighbor who has a key to let him in.  Eventually, someone does show up.  He laughs, feels like an ass, and picks up his key from the dining room table.

My opening was of the second variety.  I had to wait. Like water making the Grand Canyon-- waiting.  No more pain, no more pushing, no more trying.  Just waiting.  And then, today, it happened.  Piggybacking yesterday's physical epiphany, I was there (in "ankle grabbing").  (Keep in mind that this is all relative but...)  Feet were on their way to being parallel, legs were going straight, chest was expanding, elbows drawing together, hands holding back of knees, and then it happened.  It was like someone walked through me.  A cold breezy feeling in the muscles of upper, inner thighs.  A release in tension and a strong circular feeling.  I felt "red" like a fire truck in the sun.  I stood up.  I got it.  I understood it.  This is what it is.  I stood there in shock with a huge, goofy grin plastered on my face.

Before and at the beginning of practice I had a strong sense of joy for life, the world, myself, an overwhelming feeling of love and happiness.  But it was democratic, everything was equal.  I loved the stinky garbage I walked by just as much as I loved the sun on my neck.  I wanted to be single and to change my whole life and experience everything out there (unhindered) in the world because there is just so much to enjoy.  

After practice I had a strong sense of joy for life, the world, myself, an overwhelming feeling of love and happiness.  And in it, everything had its place.  I loved the sticky garbage just as much as I loved the sun on my neck.  I wanted to stay here forever and experience every moment of my little existence because there is just so much to enjoy.

"But I don't want to lose you,"  head shakes and hands wave in the air.  "I'm so comfortable with our life together."

"When you say that, I feel trapped,"  I feel scared.  I feel safe.

Pages slowly peel the days from the calendar.  The pile of belongings grows exponentially behind the chair in the back room.  Practice-drenched clothing dries on the chair.