The Art

This is a story of friendship. This is a story of love. This is a story of loss.

I saw the girl, let’s call her Fae, from a distance watching a couple, perhaps friends or not, deep in their conversation. She tries not to be seen. There’s sadness written on her face as she observes. The boy talking in hushed tones with another girl. The other girl seems sad, too. No, more like distraught. And I guess the boy is trying to console the other girl.

Fae paces as she keeps herself hidden. The boy has been her bestfriend, a friend who saw her soul as she has seen his. Both having been for each other in all forms of challenges. But there were conflicts in their friendship, external and within. And they both struggled to a friendship going beyond. Neither is ready for the next step. He had asked her to let him go. And it took all the spirit she has to do so. Seeing her now like this, I realize, Fae hasn’t really learned the art.

Yet I know she tries. She mindfully focuses her attention in things she loves doing. Yoga, for one. She can be the spunkiest and wildest person to hang around with… and she can be this lost and broken person I see from time to time. She hides what she feels. I don’t think anyone realizes the heaviness of the loss she is experiencing. They do not have any clue at all.

Authenticity. I come across this topic everyday. It’s a wake-up call where there is an internal alarm that tolls like a church bell inside us when the mind tortures the heart. And in a situation like Fae’s… where can she be more authentic to herself?

The art of letting go equates to the art of transformation. 
The shedding of the past is parallel to growing each moment. 
Both equally painful. Either one similarly excruciating.

Where do you go? What do you choose?
It is human to withdraw and recoil at the onset of this equation, at this parallelism. It is also human to experience a verge of panic attack when the equation and parallelism merge. Much like an hourglass… the sand particles fusing between the two bulbs, representing the past and future… the merging, the neck, is the present time. The merging is the art.

Allowing the merge to take place, and symbolically, this takes time, is a tight squeeze in the neck. Literally and figuratively. Do you tip the hour glass? Do you pick it up and hurl it somewhere? All human nature to do so. Fight-flight response. Physiologically explained – blame the sympathetic nervous system. But what would serve you better and still feel real within you?

There are times when to simply sit back is the best route. Focussing on breathing and feeling the moment for what it is. It is very hurting. Tears begin to trickle down Fae’s face. To mourn for the loss is part of the healing. Only when we accept the hurt can the heart grieve. And only when we accept the truth of the hurt can the heart learn the art.
It hurts to let go.hourglass
It hurts to transform.
It hurts to shed.
It hurts to grow.
The art hurts. Accept it. Then be free.

I sit and feel the sands of time merge.
Namaste. =)

InspiritedSylphicYoga to practice in Fight-flight responses:
Pranayama is breathing, 4 to 8 counts on each inhales and exhales.
Garudasana , much like the neck of the hourglass. SQueeZe!!! And release.
Ra Ma Da Sa Sa Say So Hung,ย Shushmana Mantra, produces a rhythmic pulsation targeting both sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems to come into balance. A healing mantra, for you, and for the other Fae’s out there. Listen to Snatam Kaur‘s version.

Spin-Off: Light Rides by CultFit
Yoga links from MindBodyGreen <pranayama> | YogaJournal <garudasana> | KundaliniYoga <ra ma da sa>.
I have yet to make my own articles. ๐Ÿ˜‰

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2 thoughts on “The Art

  1. “The art hurts. Accept it. Then be free.” thank you for this beautiful post. sometimes relief comes when we stop resisting the pain – when we allow ourselves to feel the hurt fully. once it has been felt authentically, it can move through us. as you say, transformation. and freedom. namaste, aleya

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