Signals that you're awakening

Welcome to the 10th edition of MADTHOUGHTS and greetings from Ubud! I report healing anecdotes to inspire and encourage the emergence of your truth.

Last week I wrote about how my masculine instructor knew about my moon and that was an awakening in it of itself.

Yesterday was the first day I cried during a nearly 4 hour yoga practice. Has this ever happened to you? I wanted to figure out, what caused the tears?

I am humbled by the fact that I haven’t practiced yoga correctly in my life until 2 weeks ago. Industrialized yoga has become a rushed workout, which couldn’t be further from its origins and telos. We are supposed to hold each pose for 6 minutes! The fact that we squeeze so many poses into a compact hour or even 45 minute power yoga is emblematic of where we are: rushed and impatient, jumping swiftly from position to position. Without proper presence, we do not receive anything’s full benefit. We elude pain that is essential for our growth. My instructor says: “Pain is life. So how are you going to deal with it?”

We avoid discomfort in practice by cheating our postures. We avoid it in life by overdoing: overworking, overscheduling, overexercising or overindulging in substances, or binging, or bulldozing into sex, or overspending on material items we don’t need. What if instead of evading pain, we leaned into it, knowing the depths of ourselves? This knowing is the practice of true intimacy… into me I see.

Emotional openings mirror physical ones. It’s no longer fringe theory that emotional trauma stays stored in the body. In holding opening postures for many minutes at a time, our emotional body physically unwinds.

In these long, uncomfortable holdings, rememberings flood in.

Part of my tears is the mourning of my big, wild, ebullient younger self. Young me always participated in theatrical productions. In summer camp I often was cast as leads and even gained entry to an exclusive singing group called “harmony” in team competition. When admittance to an elite university took precedent over admittance to an elite singing squad, my vital life force started abating. Though I studied English and the arts in college, but my embodied theater practice ceased.

Why and when, as a culture, did we stop singing? When we “grow up,” tending to more “adultish” matters, we traded our artistic arsenal for margin squeezing. We exchanged our funky dance moves for bottom-lines. We swapped our sunshine joy for our shadow selves, slouching behind screens. We stopped singing when fun culturally opposed the idea of output. Although this sounds grim, the reverse can occur whenever we wish. What if play was culturally connected to “optimization,” whatever that means anyway?

Stages of a Spiritual Awakening 1) Waking Up Waking up begins with an ending: ego death. The ego constructs our identity, telling us who we “need” to be and how we fit into the world. If your sense of self was linked to your image in the likeness of others, the amount of money you generated, or your virtual you, a rude awakening occurs upon the realization that this isn’t what actually matters. Usually something happens that triggers an old part of you to melt away. Then, you awaken to the void. You start to leave behind the life you’ve created… you’re questioning it all. 2) Dark Knight of the Soul This is the lowest point. We could isolate from others (and even ourselves), feeling the heaviness of the world. It’s not uncommon for depression, lack of motivation, and feelings of being lost to wash over. However, it’s important to remember that you’re not lost at all. You’re returning to yourself and therefore being found. Jim Carrey said that “depression is your avatar telling you it’s tired of being the character you’re trying to play.” The character we have been playing is retiring. When we accept the ending of what was, we can shift through the darkness with more grace and self-compassion. 3) Sponge This is the chapter of exploration. Here, it’s unclear what we want (well, we all want love but that’s too abstract). We know tangibly what we don’t want. As we reject what’s no longer congruent, we create more space for what is. The void is now being filled with what generates peace and contentment from within. For me, this has looked like: writing, learning Hebrew, spending time in nature, learning about healing modalities, reading enriching texts, and connecting with aligned new friends and mentors. Here, everything you soak in for your neshama’s nourishment. 4) Soul Sessions Learning more about your energetic blueprint, new rituals and strategies help you stay attuned to you. The list of healing modalities is endless. The ones that have been helpful for me besides yoga and meditation have been ecstatic dance and kirtan, coaching, oracle card readings, astrology, and human design study. The goal here is to experiment, be open minded, and trust your intuition. If your journey feels crazy and removed from everything you know, you’re doing it right. The new way of living won’t necessarily be what you thought you wanted, but it’s simply what needs to be; for you can no longer exist as you once did. 5) Surrender Let go of who you thought you were so you can welcome who you’re meant to be. You’ve done so much internal work and you may be living in more balance, peace, and harmony than you were before. Trust that not knowing what is next is safe. As you lean into faith and belief in yourself, you will be provided for. 6) Enlightened Being Your journey has become your mission. No longer living in a place of ego, and spreading light is your service. You understand happiness is your birthright, and peace is your priority. You do this by honoring your joy. By committing to your joy, you shine your light. When you shine, you grant others permission to do the same.

What parts of your ego need to die? Are you in the midst of a spiritual awakening? How can you be of service to others from your heartbreak?