F., School of Tantra of the Heart, Formation of Psychodynamics of Relations and Body Communication, 3rd meeting, 2023
How to describe happiness? What is it anyway? How glad I am that I came to this meeting after all 💜
And here I wrote down what came to me on my morning walk today –
How to describe happiness? What is it anyway?
I certainly touched it during this week in Nowa Morawa. And it is certainly with me now, in me. And I had my doubts. I hesitated to come a third time. These doubts were big, and new ones all the time, because the mind kept coming up with new ideas why it wasn’t worth it. Not because it’s hard, or because I was afraid it was going to be hard, or because I thought something was going to be wrong. Mostly because it was good. And how convenient it is sometimes to sit lazily on a comfortable couch called “it’s good” and not to get tired anymore.
“Tired”. Exactly. Because now, walking among the trees, slowly landing in everyday life, I don’t remember any “tiring” during this week. I remember fun, dancing, joy, jokes, laughing, emotions, movement, heart, throat, tenderness, touch, deep eyes, long hugs, and splashing with water. I remember life.
Words really fail here. They are unable to express what is really going on, what has happened.
I remember the sound. A sound that suddenly so beautifully expressed what was in me at that moment. And it contained everything I had then so beautifully – emotions, feeling, states, colours, temperatures, vibrations – and everything else too. I didn’t know this sound before, or I had completely forgotten it. As if I didn’t know the strength of my voice before, my ability to express myself, to convey all the beauty inside. Or was I afraid to see it myself? Because words… yes… words fail. Sentences, thoughts. Concepts and theories. All this brings down to earth and pushes this beauty into some known frames and constructs. What for? Why? Is it worth it? Don’t miss this beauty? I don’t want to go down to earth yet, at least for a while – no
That’s what I remember most vividly from this week.
This new sound. Scream. The fuller voice of my throat.
The body begins to move differently, in a way I have never known before. Flows.
There is suddenly more room for air in the chest. I breathe more fully.
I feel the heart. I can feel it beating. I can feel how much it can take. I feel how much it has to give.
Not only that.
But really, that’s it.
Happiness, fullness, movement.
This move is probably needed to touch this happiness. Constant movement. The one in the dance, the one in the mountain stream, the one in the forest, the one in the sky, and the one in life. How worth moving is, or helping this movement, or at least – how worth not fighting it is.
And now it’s time to come back down to earth. Calm, gentle, without a sense of loss, although with a great – ‘I miss you’. Everything is different again. It’s fine, but I don’t want to stay in that “it’s fine.” I’m moving on slowly. And I’m waiting to see what will happen. I look for the unknown. In confidence. After all, happiness is movement. This waiting for what will happen is more beautiful than any conceived goal or assumption.
So I sit on the beach, abandoning fear, thinking, and even waiting. The coffee tastes so good. The sun warms the face and the wind caresses tenderly. “I don’t feel any pain in my body. I straighten up, I see blue sea and sails.”