I was feeling sexy on the beach. It’s a highly sensual place, after all. The bright sun and warm caressing breezes vitalize a nearly naked body. Swimming, the sea holds us in an intimate and insistent embrace. The water fondles, cleanses, tickles, tussles every bit of the body.
Wading and splashing along the shore in a dripping wet bathing suit, I strutted my healthy, open body. I felt like the sexiest person around, in that sweet moment. Okay, I’m a card-carrying member of AARP. My boobs are old and saggy. I sport a large, post-menopausal gut. And said gut is covered with deforming scars, which a bikini barely covers. But I felt full-on sexy. What is "sexy," in the healthiest of terms? Open. Aware. Loving. Courageous. Adventurous. Vibrant. Alive. Free. And there is nothing sexier than freedom.
Just moments earlier, I had been kneeling in the tide, desperately praying. For days, I’d been suffering over a disturbing conversation with a dear friend. It had shaken me to the core. I couldn't talk or write about it, which would normally help. The story constantly volunteered itself, and my mind uncontrollably clung to it. It had me by the throat and the heart, and it was near impossible to reign in the mind. Every step brought back the conversation, and what I wish I’d said or what I would say when/if I was ready to deal with it.
So, I knelt and prayed fervently to the Wisest: please let me release this story. Please let me connect with You, so that your wisdom guides me. May I not be enslaved to the confusion of thoughts and emotions related to the story. May I release this story in trusting faith that wisdom will guide me when and if action/words are needed. Meanwhile, let me calm my mind and heart by letting the noise of reactivity slip into a quiet static, which dissipates like mist under a strong sun. Above all else, may I be free of the burden of this story.
I frolicked in the waves, feeling lighter and easier for the first time in days. The prayers had healed me, so I returned to them like medicine whenever the story popped up.
I exited the water feeling renewed, secure, whole, immaculate, and free in the sweet void of No Story. It felt sexy to me and me alone, for who else matters?
Every splashing step felt Free. No complaints. Free. No agenda. Free. No hurry. Free. No worries. Free. Fresh salty air, warm breeze, cheerful blue ski, fluffy clouds. Free, free, free, free.
Yoga guides us to understand how sex and other sensual appetites (food, and endless others) are here for our amusement and joy. Human confusion (fear, insecurity, neediness, greed, etc) perverts how we experience our senses and sexuality. When they control us, we can't control ourselves, so we eat too much and engage in all kinds of unhealthy activities. Through the practice of Brahmacharya (moderation and the practice of self-control over the senses and sexuality), we learn how to engage self-mastery, so we aren’t enslaved to anyone or anything or any body part or any story.
Sashaying confidently, I had re-gained control over my mind and heart through sincere prayers and practice. I was grateful. Without the confusion that had clouded this perfect day, pure vitality was sexy in the whole-iest way.
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A few days later, I approached my friend in a calm, open way, and we processed the event. It went better than I could have hoped. I had suffered for days, and mended the situation in 15 minutes.
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