Do you Like Pie?

I often say, “My love is not pie.”  Making that statement, I am sharing my belief that my love is infinite.  If I begin to love someone new, more love emerges from me; my love is not a pie that gets divided up into pieces.  I do not take love away from one person to give love to another.  Recently, I realized that my gratitude and gratefulness are not pie either.  They flow and flow.  The more gratitude I feel, the more gratefulness pours out of me.

Last week I attended a meditation ceremony and soundbath.  At the ceremony, the Incan guided meditation, SaminChkuy, was read.  This meditation talks about filling yourself with goodness.  During the meditation I had the realization that, just like my giving of love, gratitude, and generosity is not delivered in measured parts, my receiving of love, generosity, and gratitude are not received in measured parts.  I am welcome to receive all that I can.  I do not need to hold back when I receive love.  It is not that I am only allowed a certain amount.  When love flows toward me, I may swallow the river without judgement or shame.  I may have all the joy.  Joy isn’t sweets at a birthday party.  I won’t get sick from too much joy.  So, what makes me hold back?

As the soundbath began and a singing bowl was struck, I took in all of the sound, letting it wash over me.  I didn’t hold it at bay.  Sometimes when the sound overwhelmed me, I still took it in.  I knew this opportunity was short and I didn’t want to leave any behind.  Even as I felt overstimulated, I still absorbed the sound of the singing bowls.

Then I went home.  I went home with the good warm feelings and the new realizations about receiving resting within me.  I slept with them on my mind.  When I woke up in the morning, it was early.  4:30 AM early.  I noticed my body was tender to the touch.  Specifically, my torso and forearms felt sore when I touched them.  I felt scared.  I’ve been managing pain and lethargy for a few months, and now it seemed that another form of pain had entered my space.  What was going on?

I had taken a yoga class the day before.  It wasn’t a challenging class.  Heck, it’s called “Active Aging.”  I’m usually one of the youngest students.  I couldn’t imagine that exercises from that class would have caused me this pain.  Around 6 AM, I reached out to a friend who also attended the class.  She had no pain from the class.  That’s when I started to get really nervous.  Is something new wrong with me?  I called our friend who is a retired nurse.  Hearing the concern in my voice, my nurse friend became concerned as well.  She started asking about my symptoms, wondering if this was a heart attack.  Now I was on high alert.  

This particular morning, I was scheduled to lead meditation for my sangha.  I sat and thought about that.  Leading meditation is one of the things I do to spread my infinite generosity.  I love making the offering and connecting with my weekday morning friends.  Could I lead meditation in this state?  Could I let my friends down by not leading meditation?

I started feeling guilty and feeling as if I was overreacting.  Still, my focus was not on leading a meditation.   I decided to try to get someone else to lead the morning meditation.  I called two of the leaders that I thought would be awake.  Neither answered their phones.  At 6:45 (Meditation starts at 7), I sent a group text out to the four leaders who also lead weekday morning meditations.  In the meantime, I thought about how I would manage leading meditation if no one responded to me.  Could I just cancel the meditation?  What would that say about my commitment to the group?

Shortly after sending the text, one of the four leaders replied that she would lead the meditation.  I was grateful and relieved.  Next, I reached out to a yoga teacher friend who was familiar with the teacher from the “Active Aging” class.  She was happy to chat with me, and we got on Zoom so I could show her the poses we had done in the class the day before.  She recognized them.  She told me that yes, those poses could have caused that pain.  I felt relief, figuring no, I wasn’t having a heart attack and that my body was just reacting to movements it was unfamiliar with.  

In the meantime, meditation was happening without me.  I didn’t know it, but my sangha friends were sending love and well-wishes to me and my body.  Without thinking about it, I had reached out to these friends for their love and support.  Rather than sit in my suffering and not know what was going on, I had reached out to these dear folks and asked for more love and support that I normally would have.  And just like I learned in my meditation the night before, their love was abundant; it was there to support me.

As my morning wore on, calls and texts trickled in from these friends.  They were all supportive and concerned for my well-being.  They were all sharing their hummingbird ways to help me have a better day.

Shortly after my Zoom with my yoga teacher friend, I headed to the bathtub for a long soak.  After that I went back to bed for a while.  It took a few days, and the pain dissipated.   Over that time, I thought a lot about the experience.  I wondered if I had overreacted.  I wondered if the pain was a teacher.  A teacher that taught me it was okay to reach out and ask for more love and support when I needed it.  Because just like mine, everyone else’s love is not pie.