a trying 8 days 8 nights.

“Trying” are the days of the modern family.  Or are they?  My in-laws are on the west coast visiting us this week.  After forking over big bucks on flights to get here, to save on dough, they’re shackin’ up with us in our teeny 1 bedroom apartment for 8 days and 8 nights.  Before you question my judgement let me preface this with the fact that I get on famously with my in-laws.  They’re awesome and I really couldn’t manifest in-laws more fun or more loving to click with.  (And I’m fully sick at manifesting bru.) While on the surface, I was totally stoked to show them a great time in our new city, deep down I was secretly dreading the whole thing.  Don’t get me wrong,  I’m no sissy-pants and am happy to give up my cushy queen sized for the Canadian Tire Special inflata-bed for 8 precious sleeps.  It’s just, you know, the close-quarters.. the living on top of one-another like crabs in a bucket.. the no quiet time.  (Sorry Mr. Chopra, our 21 day meditation challenge just became the sacrificial lamb.)

My last night in my own bed leading up to their visit was spent tossing and turning restlessly resulting in an exhausted meltdown the morning of their arrival.  (Insert the visual of a tantrum tossing 32 year old here.)  I was already feeling so tired when all I really wanted to do was be fully gung-ho, fully engaged and fully switched “on” to show them the best time.. you know – for them.  That dangerous Dame Resentment began to trickle in…

After a long day at the office, (it’s a yoga studio and I sit on bolsters and type on a laptop rough – I know.), I dragged my feet home repeating sweet sweet revitalizing mantras in my mind (but really not buying into their hippy voodoo bullshit).  But as I stepped through the doorway the strangest thing happened.  Instead of morphing into a fake enthusiastic hostess (the image of a robotic Stepford Wife springs to mind) I was warmly welcomed with hugs and kisses and such loving energy into my own home by my Sangha (yoga word for community) – my Family.

Their love filled me up.  It energized me.  I was excited even elated to see them.  I was instantly washed clean of all my “trying” to be anything other than myself.  How had I forgotten to just be me?  A forgetfulness of ourselves that seems to permeate all facets of our lives – into all our roles.  When else do we become Stepford Wives (or Stepford hubbies.. sisters or brothers for that matter?)  Where in our lives are we trying to be something else, someone else, to change ourselves to fulfill our preconceived expectations of what other people “expect” of us.  (My yoga “teacher voice” suddenly pops into my head.)

When we are surrounded by sangha, by family, by those we love and who love us – all that trying melts away.  It dissolves into the Universe.  Whats left is us.  Pure you.  Naked of all that effort.  All that trying.  And you’re loved just for that.  Just.  You.

Such is the importance of the modern family.  The Sangha.  The community.  The support of those who Love us is paramount to us being our authentic selves.  Connect with yours and quit your trying.


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