OK, enough already; leave current affairs to the experts and return to your damn roots. That’s how I started this post. But I was wrong. I wondered, what are my roots, and where are they planted? My roots, well, we can’t ignore the fact that my roots are intermingled with your roots. And the terra firma my roots are grown in is the soil of interdependence.
Our roots are as interconnected as a cluster of Aspen trees. They grow deep and wide and reach out toward one another for sustenance and collective flourishing. Unlike Aspens, which instinctually move toward supporting the entire ecosystem, we humans choose whether to support the whole or choke each other off, one root at a time.
Within hours of the close of the Democratic National Convention, many have questioned whether the sugar high and joy emanating from it will subside, implying that people will crash or become complacent. All I can say is that we’re standing at a crossroads with considerable work and big decisions ahead of us. Hence, the road I traveled less of and have traveled more in the past few months has resulted in similar posts.
“I made this for you.” Smiling like a kid accepting a gift instead of offering one, my friend handed me a square bubble-wrapped package. My friend, I’ll call her Fay, is one of those creatives that you can’t help but admire. I sometimes call her the Renaissance Girl. Her creative spark lights up the world.
Something catches Fay’s fancy—a plant, a flower, a word—and she sees beauty—a moth to the flame. Curiosity ignites her imagination, and she’s off and running, conjuring ways to recreate beauty or its essence in a completely new way.
The year Fay gifted me the 12 x 12 canvas wrap, which, of course, she painted and then transferred to canvas, then, well, all the steps needed to create a piece of wall art, we were both breathing in as many Tantric teachings and Sanskrit words as we could inhale. Words that sounded like music and danced on our tongues. Oxygen to our cells. Reparation to our DNA.
Carefully unwrapping the package, a pale-yellow lotus-seed cup filled with sun rays sits gracefully on a water pond. In the top left corner of the canvas wrap, the Sanskrit word Swagatam is spelled out in the gold of the flower’s center. In the bottom right corner, the translation, Welcome Yourself.
When my friend gave me the wall art, I regularly taught asana in a studio. I was probably still mentoring, teaching meditation and workshops, and co-leading teacher trainings. I was active in the yoga community, active as a leader and teacher, and active in my practices. I thought I was something.
I returned Fay’s smile. Beyond the gift itself, the joy of gifting and receiving infused us with pleasure. Joy is an emotion that has recently come into question. It is as if expressing joy is a failing when the reality is that expressing joy is a requirement for humanity to survive.
Swagatam was and is quite beautiful. Fay never does anything half-assed. She may have a few mishaps, but her innate curiosity to create something of value and beauty stokes the fire that keeps her going and experimenting. She stays curious, pays attention, and improves.
It's a strength she embodies that, at times, I feel I lack. Yet, if I get out of my own way, I recognize that writing is much the same. The writer puts pen to paper, taps the keyboard, and words appear. Sentences happen, and thoughts are translated. An idea takes shape and form. Like life, you create something of value at times, and at times, your words struggle to make meaning. They fall flat. Sound contrived—or plain ole suck.
And then, like the lotus, inspiration emerges, and the work continues until the longing is expressed. You know that opening to the joy, something beyond you, yet a part of you, reveals itself on the page like magic. Only it’s not magic. It’s commitment, desire, and work.
Fay has told me that there have been times when she tossed or started over because the thing, whatever that thing was, seemed far too gone. Yet, most times, she prevailed.
When my friend shared her gift, I found the perfect place to hang the canvas wrap. Gazing at the art, I, well, I welcomed myself. I thought then that I understood exactly what it meant. It was simple. Lovely and simple. I was a yogi, after all, an experienced practitioner and teacher. One Sanskrit word equaled two English words that suggest - love yourself. Light and breezy. That’s the post I started to write. But it was false.
I’ve moved geographically from the community I helped build. It was also hard to create something of value, like Faye’s art, like the creative process of living a fruitful life.
My husband and I lived in our diesel-pushing RV for a year, traveling up and down the Pacific Northwest. We were two adults, two dogs, and Swagatam. We’ve been settled for about three years in a small farming town many miles away. Swagatam has found a more permanent place in my small study.
After the speeches and fanfare of the DNC, the red, white, and blue balloons dropped and popped. What strikes me hard, after so many outstanding moments, is the trash talk that filled the garbage dump of social media, like X. Comments about a young man finding his way in a crucial time of life within a loving family and community, yet in a too often harsh and cruel world.
A world where people whose roots are tangled with ours. Roots that are so twisted and filled with scorn. People who would rather choke off the life force of one of its own, a sapling who stands in the grove of humankind needing the support of the entire ecosystem to thrive.
Swagatam - Welcome Yourself. How will it happen if we refuse to become aware of the disparate parts of ourselves?
Swagatam - Welcome Yourself. How will it happen if we refuse to integrate the jigsaw puzzle of the many faces and facets that make you you and that make me me?
Swagatam - Welcome Yourself. Are we ready to do the work?
Bits and Biz.
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Powerful energies are at play and rocking us and our world. Thanks for introducing me to Swagatam 💖
I am cogitating on writing a piece about the importance of “being known” to yourself and to others in these times. This will help and may even find its way in there 🤔 x
Swagatam is beautiful, Paulette. What a kind and lovely gesture from your friend.