All These Things That I've Done

Oof. So I didn't bump into any walls last night, but I did have a pretty disturbing dream.

I dreamt that I went to practice and there was a teacher there (which, in real life, is super rare) unexpectedly (and I always know when it is going to happen). The teacher informed me that it was my last day practicing the primary series (which is what I practice now). I asked if I was moving on to second series, and she said no, basically leaving me series-less.

I didn't know quite what to make of this dream, but it felt significant. When I got to practice, I felt more like meditating than practicing. So I lit a candle, lit some sage, and sat down a cushion. I had trouble settling -- maybe because of the creepy news I'd listened to on my way to the studio (a woman made her baby's formula with vodka instead of water) -- so I decided to do some pranayama (breathing exercises) and that helped calm me down.

During meditation, part of what came up was the same thing that came up during my massage on Tuesday: The need to let go of the desire for significant people in my life to see and acknowledge all of me. It's never gonna happen, in a couple of significant cases, so I need to just let it go.

And that got me thinking about songs that are about letting go, and this one's among my favorites:

When there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
One more son
If you can hold on
If you can hold on, hold on
I want to stand up, I want to let go
You know, you know, no you don't, you don't
I want to shine on in the hearts of men
I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand

Another head aches, another heart breaks
I am so much older than I can take
And my affection, well it comes and goes
I need direction to perfection, no no no no

Help me out
Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner
You know you got to help me out

And when there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
These changes ain't changing me
The cold-hearted boy I used to be

Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner
You know you got to help me out
You're gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, you're gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, you're gonna bring yourself down

This whole song is great, but I freaking love the next lyrics:

I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier

Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner
You know you got to help me out
You're gonna bring yourself down
You're gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner
You're gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, you're gonna bring yourself down

Over and again, last call for sin
While everyone's lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I've done
All these things that I've done
(Time, truth, hearts)
If you can hold on
If you can hold on

Oh I can hold on alright. That's not the problem. I'll keep working on this need for external validation thing. But it does help explain why I had such a hard time letting go of the New Englander: He was the first man to really see all of me and love me. And also, coincidentally, the first to introduce me to The Killers.

Also in the letting go department today, I learned that I did not get into the study I applied for (they are full) and I didn't get a job teaching yoga at the studio where I was hoping to teach.

More opportunities to let go...