Placing a Memory: A meditation on freakouts, life plans, and Lucky Charms

It's the eight month mark since I left Shoshoni, and I've been missing it like Lorelai Gilmore misses Pop Tarts (except more meaningful, since, let's be real, Pop Tarts can't "om" at you). Maybe it's the snowy weather that's triggered my Colorado memories, or perhaps it was free yoga week at Lila studios that got me pining for some yoga-intensity. Whatever the case, my mind has been filled with "om nama shivayah"s and thoughts about my "home away from home."

Life has been filled with a myriad of change lately. With that change, granted comes joy and excitement, but it also makes me realize, that, well, I don't have a plan. I'm not talking what I'm making for dinner (because clearly, that's been solved by our friend Lucky and Charms). I'm talking the grand scheme of things. The life plans--all of a sudden, "what do I want to be when I grow up?" has turned into "I'm grown up--what the heck am I?" Life has gone from having a certain je ne sais quoi to a je ne sais rien.*

*Translation, to the best of my ability: from having a certain aesthetic quality to a "I don't know anything."

And so begin the panic attacks.  A hyperventilating cashier is not the most comforting thing in the world, but hyperventilate she does, on top of wondering if she'll ever figure her life out. When I was little, my greatest wish in life was to have some stuffed cats to play with and some American Girl Dolls. My current great wish has gotten simpler in theory, yet so much more difficult to attain: and that wish, my friends, is calm.

http://images.nationalgeographic.com/wpf/media-live/photos/000/138/overrides/save-the-ocean-tips_13821_600x450.jpg

Naturally, I thought back to the last time I felt calm--not just "I'm falling asleep, so I'm gonna shut my eyes" calm, but truly at ease, truly ready to face the world in times of challenge and in times of joy. And while Shoshoni certainly presented its challenges, it is, to this day, the place that I have felt happiest, calmest, the most...myself.

The life goals and meditation techniques Shoshoni presented did not require a huge temple or wise gurus in order to make you happy--one of the main purposes (at least that I found) at the ashram was to show that you could be in the middle of Timbuktu and still find the same inner peace and tranquility that you once found in a meditation class. We are still united with the same breath, we are always guided by that core self, we are still whole...even at the times we feel we are crumbling. Think of it like a cookie: a crumbly cookie may not look as confident as its dessert companions, but it still brings the same joy, the same gooey chocolatey flavor that it always has.

That, or I just really want something sweet. Yay digressions.

And so, in these eight months outside the sweet bubble of meditations and self reflections, I have taught myself to breathe; I have reminded myself of the great connections I made at Shoshoni--the strength they continue to bring me, even when they are thousands of miles away. Yet even as I try to keep that strength in my mind, the memories grow fuzzy, the meditation techniques grow weaker. I see myself settling back into old habits, old insecurities. And at first glance, it scared me. It seemed that without physically being at Shoshoni, I would be worthless. I would be doomed to a life of fear and inability to accept change. It's much easier to be reminded of a past feeling, a past memory, when you are in the place where you first made that memory. But just because we are physically moving, that doesn't mean our memories constantly have to shift, or be erased. It is easier to be reminded of tranquility at an ocean, or an ashram, or your Aunt Edna's bakery, but it isn't impossible to feel calm elsewhere.

During my plans to return to Shoshoni, I've been feeling a certain restlessness--as though I could snap my fingers and get some insta-englightenment. While it's not realistic to be all "I wanna feel calm RIGHT NOW!," it's now more than ever that I need to step back, realize Shoshoni isn't going away, and remember to live in the moment. Ironic, to remind myself to be patient before returning to a place that teaches us patience. Sometimes chaos tries to snatch us in its fangs, to devour us while we suffer through desire and expectations. But through even the most tumultuous of times we must remember to step back, wait, and breathe. Mindfulness doesn't have a certain hibernation spot. It is everywhere. We just must remember to call upon it.

Om nama shivayah, friends. May the je ne sais quoi of your life bring patience, laughter, and joy.

Namaste.