Tag Archives: remorse

No More Waiting


I was waiting for an apology from him,
an expression of guilt and remorse;
it hasn’t come yet,
and it probably never will.
I was waiting for him to do the right thing,
to acknowledge his role,
to make things right,
but it sure doesn’t look that this will happen either.
I was hoping he’d awaken,
hoping he’d zoom out and look in
and see how his behavior
has been egregiously unfair—
he hasn’t awakened, and my hope
is turning to hopelessness.
The moral is,
focusing on the other
and hoping they will change
(when they don’t want to and aren’t capable)
will only lead to sadness, frustration and despair.
I’ve decided that I’m not going to wait anymore.
I’m going to move forward in autonomy,
thanking him for my freedom.

Essential Forgiveness


If we are to continue
on this path of awakening
with our open hearts,
the spiritual warriors that we are
will need to learn how to forgive.
Forgiveness is essential.
If we are to set down
the burdens of the past
we need to learn how to let go.
Sit a moment.
Feel the regret, the remorse.
Acknowledge the shame, or the pain
as you reflect on past events,
and then…
let go.
Because this moment is ever new
and fresh–
Because you are this being now.
The you who made that mistake
decades ago
no longer exists.
In this one now moment,
this eternal present,
your heart beats life blood
through your body.
Its intelligence masters
complex processes
and with a symphony
of collaborative movements
you are here alive
this very moment.
If you want to learn how to forgive others,
start with yourself.
If you want to learn how to forgive yourself,
start with your own heart.
Acknowledge its beating,
then let go of the past.
You can let go of the past
the way a tree lets go of a leaf
in autumn–
finality without mourning.
Each letting go can be joyful
as space is made for the
burgeoning and the blossoming
that is to come.

Freezing Rain


There was a freezing rain advisory in effect this morning until noon. It has been cold here the last few days, and the ground has been frozen, so any precipitation was expected to freeze on contact. I got myself worked up about having to drive in unsafe road conditions, and interrupted my meditation to text two of my yoga teacher colleagues to ask for help. The first one was teaching the class before mine so I asked him to let me know what his drive was like. The second one lives near the yoga studio, so I asked her if she could sub for me if the roads were treacherous.

My husband made fun of me when I told him how worked up I was getting. “Marylanders,” he said, shaking his head.  I actually got bent out of shape with his teasing. The PMS hormones were still having their way with me and I’m not good at taking jokes at that point.

“The roads are not too bad, but be careful,” my one colleague told me. The other told me she’d be willing to teach, just let her know. Not too bad? What does that mean? I hate driving in ice. I hate sharing the road with people who don’t know how to safely navigate in wintry weather. My anxiety continued to rise until I was in quite a state as I was getting ready to leave. I even screamed maniacally at the hubby when he attempted to argue with me about something that I found inconsequential. I wanted a moment to get ready and asked him to let me be. When he stood there, telling me that he couldn’t believe I was reacting in that way, I just kind of lost it and reacted even worse. “GET OUT OF MY FACE!” I told him.

I left the house feeling pumped full of adrenaline, and had to take some really slow, deep breaths to talk myself out of my anxiety storm. I felt really guilty for blowing up at my husband. Ashamed that I didn’t have more self-control. Remorseful for letting it get to that point.

It turns out that the roads were fine.

I hoped that none of my yoga students would be scared away by the forecasted weather. As I pulled into the studio parking pad way earlier than normal, I wondered if I could fit my own practice in before my students arrived. The room was nice and warm. I rolled out my mat and sang a couple of kirtan songs to the empty room. I felt soothed by my own voice, glad to be there early, having that moment to mentally prepare for teaching.

Twenty-one students showed up, ready to move and breathe. Twenty-one wonderful, willing, open human beings, so eager to learn and explore. I love my job. I’m so grateful for my students.

I left the studio feeling calm and centered. I called Cliff to check in; he sounded fine, the kids were fine, down for nap. Everything was back to normal. The events of this morning stood as a reminder that I still have so much work to do to master my mind and its fluctuations, its temper tantrums, its reactivity.

I wondered if I would ever get to the point that I wouldn’t explode with anger when faced with life’s daily challenges. Will I ever be that patient, and aware, and centered?

The weather will change, and hopefully so will I. Someday the clouds will part and reveal the clear blue sky. Maybe my moods are like this changing weather. I can’t really choose sunshine or rain, but I can choose how I experience them.  Perhaps my work isn’t to eliminate the anger and the anxiety, but to hold space for them, to let them come, and then to let them go. Just like drops of rain falling on the windshield on a cold January morning, I can watch them rolling down, down, and away.