It’s July 2nd and I’m thinking about Independence Day. No, not fireworks and backyard picnics, not the American flag and the Star Spangled Banner, not the courage of our forefathers nor the tears of their mothers, at least not right now. Right now, I’m thinking about my personal independence.
In my mid 20’s I would routinely “run away.” At least one weekend a month, I would pack an overnight bag, jump into Jezebel, my white-on-white-on-white Volkswagon Super Beetle convertible, point my nose away from home and drive until I found myself lured by the distinctly commercial glow of a lit up, giant rotating ice cream cone into an unknown parking lot in a strange town. I would order a large vanilla cone with chocolate sprinkles, wrap a paper napkin snugly around its base and drive into the night, long hair caught in the current of acceleration, in an attempt to know the meaning of freedom and independence.
Yesterday, nearly 40 years later, my “inner runaway” re-awakened. My ears were the first to catch the glory of the morning as a full orchestra of birds sang of it, loud and clear. My eyes were next. An unspeakably golden streamer of light glittered through my half-opened window shade. Then my skin: pores gratefully opened to the tiniest bit of cool moisture that rode in on the sweetest morning breeze. I had tasted freedom! Elated, I skipped my meditation, ignored my shower, threw on some clothes, poured myself a giant cup of piping hot coffee, and jumped into Sapphire, my pretty little blue, energy efficient, perfectly ordinary Honda Civic. I pointed my nose away from home, switched my iPhone to “Airplane Mode” and grooved on my favorite tunes until I found myself lured by the distinct charm of Charm City, itself.
I spent the day in Fells Point, Baltimore. I hadn’t lingered there since my days in graduate school (long enough ago that broken down warehouses and darkened fishermen’s bars warned young women to keep their distance but the soft shell crabs were unbeatable and my girlfriends and I were testing our bravado.) The Fells Point of the 21st century is a gentrified place, perfectly inviting and unquestionably safe. I had lunch on the waterfront with a dog … literally. I no sooner sipped from my tall glass of ice water than I became aware of an insistent panting over my right shoulder. I peeked. The broad smile that met my gaze was that of a most charming, black and white pit bull terrier named Molly. I happily shared my water with Molly and she let me scratch behind her ears. I chatted with her owners and learned that she had been abandoned as a puppy.
Abandoned. Abandoned is about as far from independence as you can get. In order to feel one’s independence one must first feel secure and cared for. This point was not lost on me as I later contemplated my “runaway day.” I know that I am free to explore my independence at will because I have the great fortune to feel secure and cared for. I can jump into my car and “leave it all behind” because I trust that it will all be there for me, intact, upon my return ... my home, my loved ones and my community. Beyond all of that, though, is the constancy of my yoga and meditation practice and the awareness they afford me of my connectedness to all that is.
The true gift of yoga and meditation is the direct experience of being in union with all that exists, the seen and the unseen, the manifest and unmanifest. Thought, feeling, imagining, and knowing … these are all of the same vibration and that vibration is available to be heard by those who will take the time to develop the skill to listen. Upon hearing Its gentle whisper, you will become truly independent and free. Good luck on your journey. Remember to breathe, the constant, easy breath of Union. ~Namaste~
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