There seem to be two kinds of people: those who want to spend less time by themselves and those who want to spend more time by themselves. Recently I've been of the latter persuasion, and have caught myself wishing to be alone more often, to be less accountable to others, to just be allowed to not talk - maybe for a long time.
Last night as I lay in bed thinking about all the people I had to contact, all the issues I had to somehow resolve and the best strategies for neutralising them I felt the coarse wool of anxiety getting slowly wound around my heart by a pair of hands that pokes through my ribs (all calloused and spindly from ceaselessly working) and I thought to myself "If only I could just be alone!" and the only person who heard it was myself, meaning that I was alone, but had surrounded myself with other problems so much that I felt and believed that I was being crowded. The only person I cannot be away from is myself. I'm always here, I just often forget to say hi to myself, which is rude.
Here is a story I was told when I was little: there was a rich guy named Yajnyawalkya ("yudge-nya-wolk-ya") who was married to two wives, Katyayanee ("cutya-yaa-ne") and Maitreyee ("my-tray-yee"). Yajnyawalkya decided to leave his wealth and all his material goods and go into the forest, but before he left he asked the permission of his wives and told them that they were to share his wealth equally between them. Katyayanee gave her blessings and agreed to accept half the fortune and remain in her husbands home. Maitreyee was more curious, and asked what wealth existed in the forest that was more valuable than the wealth Yajnyawalkya had acquired economically and socially in the city.
Her curiosity led her to follow her husband into the forest, leaving behind her former life.
This is a story about you. The two wives inside you are your alternating tendencies of clinging onto possessions, comfort and familiarity and the tendency to let go, to renounce, to follow the unknown. When you feel stuck and bound to situations it is Katyayanee giving you a big sad hug, because she likes your company and would miss you dearly if you left. When you realise (as I did last night) that you are actually free to follow and abide with that silent self who leads you onwards, Maitrayee is putting on her sandals. But you don't have to go into the forest to be with yourself.
Last night as I lay in bed thinking about all the people I had to contact, all the issues I had to somehow resolve and the best strategies for neutralising them I felt the coarse wool of anxiety getting slowly wound around my heart by a pair of hands that pokes through my ribs (all calloused and spindly from ceaselessly working) and I thought to myself "If only I could just be alone!" and the only person who heard it was myself, meaning that I was alone, but had surrounded myself with other problems so much that I felt and believed that I was being crowded. The only person I cannot be away from is myself. I'm always here, I just often forget to say hi to myself, which is rude.
Here is a story I was told when I was little: there was a rich guy named Yajnyawalkya ("yudge-nya-wolk-ya") who was married to two wives, Katyayanee ("cutya-yaa-ne") and Maitreyee ("my-tray-yee"). Yajnyawalkya decided to leave his wealth and all his material goods and go into the forest, but before he left he asked the permission of his wives and told them that they were to share his wealth equally between them. Katyayanee gave her blessings and agreed to accept half the fortune and remain in her husbands home. Maitreyee was more curious, and asked what wealth existed in the forest that was more valuable than the wealth Yajnyawalkya had acquired economically and socially in the city.
Her curiosity led her to follow her husband into the forest, leaving behind her former life.
This is a story about you. The two wives inside you are your alternating tendencies of clinging onto possessions, comfort and familiarity and the tendency to let go, to renounce, to follow the unknown. When you feel stuck and bound to situations it is Katyayanee giving you a big sad hug, because she likes your company and would miss you dearly if you left. When you realise (as I did last night) that you are actually free to follow and abide with that silent self who leads you onwards, Maitrayee is putting on her sandals. But you don't have to go into the forest to be with yourself.
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