One of the things that helped form the love bubble with my other yogi teachers-in-training up in Asheville over the summer was enduring things together–building understanding with each other, which led to great compassion and love for one another. Let me explain.
My brother and I grew up just two years apart; we experienced high school and college together, but before that, we were roughly the same age when we went on family vacations, or when Mom and Dad came up with a new rule or method of family life. My brother and I went through a lot together. We were like comrades in the trenches. In a similar way, my fellow love bubble residents quickly became my tribe: we were all sore from the 100+ Sun Salutations yesterday; we were all a little glassy-eyed at the anatomy that had been thrown at us; we were all a little punchy from so many handstands.
Upon reflection, it’s a pretty self-centered way to live life, but that’s how we all start out, so we might as well work from where we are–when other people do the same things you do all the time and live through the same things you do, there’s a kinship, and understanding. It’s easier to slip your feet into their shoes because they’re awfully close to your own shoes, your imagination doesn’t work so hard. And this kind of understanding leads to:
Despite everyone’s shoulders being sore, some yogis would still be bright and cheerful (these are the ones which are not me). Others, who are more like me, might dramatically splay on their mats, wasted from the effort. As we walked through this experience with one another, we understood one another better not only because we had the same experiences, but because we learned who someone was by how they responded to these experiences. Put together with the knowledge that we all came to Asheville in July with different baggage and different things we wanted to work through and different levels of stability and health–all seeking healing–we founded a love bubble by shared experiences and by paying attention. That was all.
We learned that it takes all the freaky people to make the beauty of the world, just like Michael Franti says.
So as a sort of postscript to Bursting the Love Bubble, I wonder why it matters to me so much that I personally vet and discover the beauty of each unique person I meet. Why do I want to make people prove themselves? Why approach anyone with suspicion or with defenses? Each one of the 25 relatively random people in my yoga teacher training class were gorgeous, stunning, strong, hilarious individuals. A part of me realizes that it must be true of every person–I believe God created everybody, so why wouldn’t they all be amazing?
Why does it matter if you have personally discovered the beauty and joy of that person again? Who cares if you have personally experienced the delight that comes from knowing that person deeply? Must we all prove to each other that we are worth of love, or could we just trust the Creator who brought us all here? Let God vouch for us to each other.
So, what would the world look like if we all approached each person every day as worthy of love and attention?