I have this gorgeous Tibetan singing bowl, a gift from my husband James, sitting on our pellet stove. It has been there so long that it blends into the scenery. I barely notice it and haven't touched it in quite a while. Today, it sang out to me and asked me to play it. It had been so long that I stumbled a bit in remembering how to play it. Which side of the striker do I use? Then do I run the striker along the base? The top? Inside?
When I got over my self consciousness (yeah, I was alone but that definitely doesn't rule out self consciousness.) I gave the bowl a good tap with the striker. The sound was pleasant enough, but it didn't have the resonant silkiness that I associate with the singing bowl. So I tapped it again. Then I banged it. Then I banged it again. Something wasn't right.
Suddenly I remembered that the tiny silk pillow that it sits upon is not only decorative but functional as well. I sat my lovely bowl down upon her pillow and I tapped the bowl again. Ah....yes! There it was - that ancient vibrational hum coursing through me as it sang.
I thought about that little pillow and the important role that its softness played in calling forth the resonance of the hard bowl. And because I see the world in metaphor form it reminded me of the important role that softness plays in us in general. How when we offer a tiny softness to the hard edges of our lives, it gives us more space to meet those edges and grow from them.
This has particular meaning for me lately. In the months following the election and the inauguration, anxiety has often felt like a constant companion to me. Sometimes I feel it like a physical pain in my gut or excessive tension in my shoulders. Sometimes, my mind runs amok with stories and down paths of fear. Today my singing bowl reminded me of the importance of offering a deep softness and acceptance for those parts of me - the parts that are hurt and in pain. When experiencing anxiety and pain, my first thought has often been, "Go Away! I don't want you." But I am done pushing parts of myself away. Instead, when I cushion these hard edges with softness, remembering to whisper "you belong here" to my stomach pain, and "thank you" to my monkey mind, it gives them the acceptance they need to do the work that they are here to do for me.
Together, hard and soft, I make up this complex being. Accepting every part of me, makes it possible for me to sing the true song the world needs to hear from me.