Saturday mornings for my Hatha 2 class I usually do a little dharma talk; a teaching moment; something for the students to ponder before they set their intentions for their class that morning. Often I find myself talking about something I had never even considered speaking about; this is how things unfold sometimes as a yoga teacher.
Occasionally I read quotes or spiritual texts. I found this little gem on Facebook one day and printed it out. It hung on my refrigerator for a while; I kept thinking that I would take it and read it for the class.
So finally, a couple weeks ago, I remembered it; took it down; carried it to the car; placed it on top of my things. And then I get to the Studio; it’s nowhere.
I’m looking around the office; the reception area; went back, looked all through my car; nothing.
Then the following week, I’m cleaning out my car — which if you know me you realize is a rare, rare occurrence. Was getting ready to head out of town for the weekend.
And there it was; wedged between the seat and the console.
Apparently the people who were supposed to hear it did hear; it really resonated with them; and several students asked me to post it; here it is.
Ponder, absorb and enjoy.
You’ve got it all wrong. You didn’t come here to master unconditional love. That is where you came from and where you’ll return.
You came here to learn personal love. Universal love. Messy love. Sweaty love. Crazy love. Broken love. Whole love. Infused with divinity. Lived through the grace of stumbling. Demonstrated through the beauty of… messing up. Often.
You didn’t come here to be perfect. You already are. You came here to be gorgeously human. Flawed and fabulous. And then to rise again into remembering. But unconditional love? Stop telling that story.
Love, in truth, doesn’t need ANY other adjectives. It doesn’t require modifiers. It doesn’t require the condition of perfection. It only asks that you show up. And do your best. That you stay present and feel fully. That you shine and fly and laugh and cry and hurt and heal and fall and get back up and play and work and live and die as YOU.
— Courtney A. Walsh