Ashram Frenzy

While we are enjoying the hot springs (slightly perplexed by all the naked flesh), Rebecca comments on my mood. And yes, I agree, it has been quite stable recently. But I should have known, recently comes without any guarantees for the future.

Returning to the ashram, I feel tension return to my body. I had expected that being “outside” after more than 2 months, I would be overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of everyday life. But maybe Nelson doesn’t qualify as everyday life anyway. Dubbed as the town with the most pot smokers in Canada; I can literally see why Rebecca’s parents thought that they had never seen this many people with dreadlocks before.

So under the pretense of the photos I need for my work permit medical examination, I start the day with a great Kundalini Yoga class 3HO style, only to find Jen sitting right behind me. We spend most of the day together, catching up, drinking tea, shopping… It is great, even though the music store does not have my autoharp. I get to enjoy the hot springs in my new thrift store bathingsuit, and it is almost as good as going to a proper sauna.

Celebrating our Go Live - the End of Tension?!

 But at the ashram, the air is filled with tension. The launch of the new computer program is putting on the pressure, and all kinds of irritations flare up between people. With deadlines to be met, there is no time to create space and understanding. In the Office I am surrounded by weird energies swirling around and too many people and meetings and phone calls and interruptions. I miss having my own desk and a door to shut. I feel like I am holding a large stack of plates, and they are starting to slide.

With every plate I drop (I am a horrible multi-tasker to begin with) I feel more and more stupid. Whereas other people can make mistakes and I don´t think any less of them, all my (in my eyes) mistakes clearly point to one thing. How useless, worthless, ridiculous etc. I am. Though I try to hide my state of mind for a bit (the old poker face strategy) it of course blows up in my face. When I sit in the teachers room, I cry so loudly that Lorraine and Chris on the other side of the hallway, wonder what is going on.

When Swami Samayananda checks in with me she addresses my guilt. My guilt for not doing my karma yoga, for being a burden to the whole community, for being weak. She tells me that if the ashram were to choose between data entry or me, they would of course choose me. I am important. And I cry even harder, for I feel that data entry is certainly more important than my wellbeing (though a small voice in me disagrees). Stepping outside myself for a moment, I realize that this scene keeps on playing out in my life. It is the lesson I fail to learn. But how do I learn something that just doesn´t seem to exist in the days that my world is dark?

So today I play hooky, and do not do any karma yoga. I already cry less, and play a lot of autoharp overlooking the lake. Tomorrow I will go see a psychologist and I will not make a list of all psychologists, social workers, healers, and even one psychiatrist, I have already seen. I will just go for help and enjoy the support the ashram offers me. Okay, maybe not enjoy, but still.  

Looking out of my Window in the Morning...