My Shoes

I have thought about this off and on lately. Last week, when I got to my yoga class “my” usual spot was taken by someone else’s mat. I actually felt a slight bit bothered. I immediately let it go, found a new place and a mental note of this feeling. I say “my” spot because I can found there mediating 1/2 hour before class and it is conveniently located away from traffic, and moving people and things. But I don’t own the spot, so what is this all about? We often label things as mine, like “My shoes,” and when we can’t find them or someone took them we immediately have mental discomfort. We do it to a lot of things, putting ownership on material objects because we should... we paid for them, right? But just saying those are my shoes starts to create a firmer sense of I or me. This is only a road to more pain, extending your sense of self beyond your body, falling into traps like I did with my spot. It was really never mine before my usual arrival time, nor after the class ends, anyway. I think I might suggest to my teacher in my class that just before starting people are asked to move their mats two to the right or left, just to make people aware of their attachment to space. Explain to them, why after they move and to watch their thoughts. The more we are conscious of the pain we create for ourselves, the less we will blame others. It's becoming much clearer now that we create our own hell, and let's start running in the other direction.

My Secret Dream Penthouse

I had a recurring dream I have perhaps once a year, last night. Always, a bit new. It consists of accessing and going to a secret tiny penthouse that I only have the keys. With 360 degrees windows in a small room, that you have to access though a wild set of dark passages, sometimes crawling up through. Now, I have set here trying to figure out where it exists in my memory bank of past experiences, and the best I can come up with is a mish-mash of details. It appears so clear to me at times and especially in my dream that I could spend hours rewinding the mental tape piecing it all together. I have had in the past keys to buildings, some of which had unfinished penthouses. I would go sometimes to get a view at night, at off hours and many times after I quit working, in said building. I have always had grand daydreams as well as those at night. Raw industrial size office buildings while I worked in the floors below. And I have seen some cool lofts made out of old brick buildings that I have gone to parties in. The image that fits the dream that comes close was the rooftop of a tiny studio apartment building I had in my early 20’s with nice views of downtown. I can, now, hours after I am awake, travel back to crawling up passages to show some people what other rooms I have. Knowing that they really don’t exist, and are composed of several other dreams. It amazes me and stops time. The lights are on, and yes, somebody is still home.