the Death Card | Transformation

 

What role does transformation play in your life?

For most of us, this word 'transformation' can be of epic proportions, a tad bit scary, and nearly paralyzing. For others, it is something we welcome with open arms, yearning to constantly be changed. And for the rest of us, it's a trendy buzz word, that you honestly don't have time for running from work, to social engagements, let alone, having time for your family, and yourself. That's cool, I get that, but what if...what if we made time, what if we allowed ourselves to embrace the uncomfortable? What if we welcomed the orange and yellow blaze that embraces the phoenix and the lord Shiva, the way we welcomed the photos on our Instagram account? Knowing that once the flames were put out, from the smouldering ashes, we rise as a new person.

To pull this card does not equal death of your physical body; rather, the removal of a thought, idea, habit, way, person, or pattern, that has plagued you, and pressed you further away from your truth, that you've mistaken as yours for so long. This is an allowance for space to become the person you were always meant to be.

Let me tell you about a piece of me, that I used to identify myself with, when I was younger. A piece I held onto for so long, it became a part of me, it identified me. Anger. Aggression. Rage. I can still feel it in the deepest, darkest, pit of my belly. How it felt to be sixteen, misunderstood, pigeon-holed, lonely, and broken.  For me, this sensation didn't leave once I departed adolescence, but lasted well into my late 20's. I wandered as a lone wolf, seeking love in all of the wrong places, isolating myself to a practice room, keeping my 'friends' at an arms-length distance, covering my heat in titanium wrapping. The only place I felt at home, was at the center of a sweaty pit, with 20-40 other angry 20 year old boys, at local punk and hardcore shows.

My parents split up when I was twelve, my mom, a single mom of four girls, and my dad, thousands of miles away, building another family. The habitual odd (wo)man out, with an alchoholic parent, bullied from middle through High School, growing up in small town upstate New York, I found great power in my most effective coping mechanism. It was my badge. My proudest accomplishment.

As I started to get older, real life began to kick in. Ingrained in my brain were five year plans, goals, and Guidance Counselors posters about making something of yourself. I went the only route that seemed lit up to me at the time, perusing a Classical Music career.  Yet the deeper I got, the more I realized my soul, and what little happiness I had, slowly started to slip away into the darkness. At the age of twenty five, there was a shift in my consciousness. A space in the clouds, a crack in the pavement, through the light coming through, I realized that this life I was living, was not the one I wanted, nor did I feel like it even belonged to me. It was an identity I was clinging to, too scared to see what else was on the other side, or what was even on the horizon.

 Leaving my Classical Music career behind was the hardest, yet bravest, thing I've ever had to, or ever wanted to do. Not to mention, at this same time, I was suffering the second largest heart break since my parent's splitting up. Not only was my heart pulled out through my throat, but I decided to leave the only path I knew behind in the ashes. Don't ask me where I got the courage, or the trust, I'm still not sure, ten years later. It was just something I felt, at the pit of my belly, I knew the size and shape of my heart was changing, that I was changing. I had to believe, that everything would be ok. There was no other option.

The months following were full of complete darkness, depression, doubt, and despair. I was floating between two worlds. Feeling complete despair the moment a symphony I had played and loved would come on, while feeling altogether undesirable, and unlovable. I failed. How would I ever pull myself out?

Within this uncertainty, I blindly began to plant seeds, not sure of what would grow or sprout. I found my way back to Denver, Colorado, the only place where I knew how to be a better version of me, with $100 to my name. Like the desolate winters on the East Coast, life took baby steps, small movements towards happiness, yet still very much underground. Through a new job and career change, money started to trickle in, and afforded me with abundance, a new relationship provided me with the love and hope. Slowly, but surely the roots pressed through the oppressive, rock-hard, dirt, yet it wasn't until I made my way to my first Yoga practice, that the first signs of life started to appear. Drenched in sweat, slightly confused, heart racing, I finally found my way home.

What I began to love about Yoga, was that it moves us from the outside in. It warms us up externally, for all possibilities, through lost pounds, detoxification, and building strength, however, like a slow cooker, we are changed from the inside, steadily, and evenly. I began to realize that my years of rage, hate, and disgust, were all protective armor; that my loneliness was all crafted by me, in an effort to shield myself from vulnerability, therefore making me impenetrable. When it's stripped of all it's glory (because we do glorify it), hate is a direct result of being disappointed by love, so we reach for emotions that are the complete antithesis to what we know, in hopes of safeguarding us from any future pain, or suffering. Therefore, sending us into a dark, downward spiral, of hopelessness. And once we're in there, it's nearly impossible to get out, unless we see a crack of light, and we choose to follow that brightness. I decided to follow the illumination of my heart.

Through the practice of Yoga we begin to respond, rather than react, anxiety becomes still, challenges seem like no big deal, and we notice an emotion we have never experienced before. Contentment.
It forces us to peel back and shed the layers which cause us pain. To train ourselves to realize what is at our deepest core, of all human beings, and that's love. That is all there is.

From the way I started to treat myself, and most importantly, how I treated others. Being able to see myself in every person, as if I was everyone, and everyone was me. Through this innate sense of oneness I was no longer on the outside, we were all on the inside, together. I was no longer scared. I no longer needed energetic and physical barriers to protect my heart and soul. I don't know when the shift started and I find that to be the most beautiful part. The lines became blurred and love and peace became the only way.

Yoga helped me move from separateness to oneness. From darkness into light.

And through this oneness I began and have begun to embrace my path, my path to understand other's suffering, not with a need to fix it for them, but to assist the masses in realizing that we learn from one another, therefore we MUST be vulnerable with each other and share our stories. Our stories of failure, heart break, transformation, love, success, and everything in between. That is how we get stronger and truly see that we are not alone in this world. This is how we change our course. We permit the act of renewal into our life, without a knowing of what flower will blossom.

We lean in. We say yes, to love.

We are the phoenix, rising from the flames.