Monthly Archives: December 2017

Life beyond the fear of living


It took a long time before I could surrender to the yoga practice. This monday morning where the world is grey, at peace and beautiful. ‘Why did I not ask you what is the matter? Surely something is, otherwise you wouldn’t have called me’.When I manage to let go, I am surprised by how agile my body is. Mind and body manifest the same tightness. When the one breaks loose, the other does the same. It does needs a mental breakdown during the practice right after you’d called me and I’d hung up on you, to make me aware of it.

Before I realize it my thoughts become agressively imposing: ‘Reina, he’s simply looking for distance, you also need to hold back’. ‘No, you’re just saying that because you didn’t see him yesterday and will see him only for a small amount of time today’.’You better move to New Zealand Reina. His whole divorce thing is going to take at least another year. You better use that time wisely. And if he eventually pulls it around and comes along, be happy. You can’t depend or rely on him now. He’s far too worried and preoccupied himself now’. Terminating the train of thought with: ‘We will not have breakfasts together, we will not go out together, we will not spend time making a new life together anywhere soon’. My body stretches furiously, seeking to expand, become one with the surrounding space, tapping into the group energy. Meanwhile I find myself in a semi-continuous state of being on the verge of crying. Until three oms finish it off and I step outside the world of body and mind.

I don’t want to let go of it as yet, deciding once more to visit a massage salon. To relief pain in the neck caused by a serious car accident I got me and my two daughters into some weeks ago. But each time I let myself be distracted, thinking it’s not important enough to pay attention to and so I didn’t make it to the recovery table yet. I am heading for The Vigorous Thai, passing a promising Turkish grocery store. The produce on show make me happy. I let myself be lured in, ordering Bulgarian sheep cheese, medjoul dates and kalamati olives. When I pick mint and cilantro out of a cooled show case, the owner stops me and asks me to follow him to the back. We enter a large dark and cool space right behind the store that looks like a giant mechanic place more then the storage of a foodshop. From card board wholesale boxes on the concrete floor, he pulls out freshly delivered neatly binded herbs and hands them to me. The scent is lovely. Then he quickly sends me back into the store: ‘Hush, before you give me a heart attack’. I laugh and thank him. ‘I not only sell you the ingredients, I’d cook them for you too. Just to keep you here’. He follows me back into the shop, uttering more compliments: ‘ridiculous, you should be forbidden’. His words energize me. Leaving the shop, I have forgotten about the massage and I finally sit down to text you.