Shasha Crow

To choose is to lose

If you choose me, I am only one of an infinite number of choices you could make, each of which exists in its own parallel, non-communicating universes. At least, according to Many Worlds Interpretation in Quantum Physics. The me who was not chosen by you is not aware of the one who was. But she can imagine what could have happened in that case whose possibilities are also infinite.

I feel pretty reassured that there are infinite versions of me experiencing all the different things. And I’m not sure that we don’t communicate, even if only in the realms of dream and imagination. Who after all can prove that Dream isn’t also a world of its own? I’m reassured because if it’s sh*t now, somewhere it’s really really good, and since I am non-dualist in my approach to belief, I can experience the benefits of all of it even as those realities evolve ever further from each others’ point of origin. It’s all one.

I read a poem recently that began with the words “Nobody ever tried to keep me”. Regrettably I cannot find it now but I thought about that statement and the words that followed for some weeks. An almost-lover asked me did I regret that nothing ever happened between us and I said no, the moment passed, you didn’t choose me and now life is different. People don’t try to keep me, but quite a few have tried to get me back.

I’m on a different reality now baby! And it’s good. I’m not circling back. Those who stayed, stayed. Those who left, left. No need to panic. There’s a reality out there where you did experience us, so I don’t need to grieve a loss as though it doesn’t exist somewhere. It’s that movie “Everything Everywhere All At Once”. We are living on the everything bagel. Take a bite, and see what you get.

Misunderstood

I’ve been having conversations recently around being misunderstood. Those more complex among us may feel or have felt misunderstood for most of our lives. This can become an identity.

Ever-present is the longing for someone to see into us the way we truly are. Implied is the acceptance of our full complexity as the outcome of this seeing and knowing. And yet it never comes.

Why?

Firstly it’s impossible to fully know another as we approach life from different perspectives. Secondly we are in a process of getting to know ourselves. How can we expect another to know, understand and appreciate what we do not? Third we are in a constant state of flux. If full knowing were possible, as soon as we are known we are evolving into something else.

We become attached to this longing to be known but what we truly need is to see and accept ourselves as we are in the present moment. Nobody else can give us this as immediately as we can. And if we long so deeply to be understood, how much responsibility do we take for helping others to understand us?

It is said that Yoga is the journey of the self through the self to the self. Self-knowledge comes first. Then knowledge and experience of the Self, that universal all-encompassing One. When you see it you can’t unsee it.

Then all the projections of how we’d like to be perceived, the mysterious, the enigma, “misunderstood” fall away and we have the precious opportunity to accept and understand ourselves with clarity. To be understood we must understand. In order to be known we must make ourselves known. We cannot make known what we do not admit to.

What are we afraid of? That once known we will not be accepted, not be loved. So we continue to exist as the misunderstood person, drawing empathy and interest. What would we be without that mystique? What would it be like to be seen?

Scars

A yoga student once asked me if there was anything I didn’t like about my body. She had seen me fatter, thinner, stronger, weaker and even in the depths of extremely painful and exhausting flare-ups by this point. Still teaching because movement helps, even if it’s excruciating.

Of course there have been many things about myself inside and out that I have criticised and even hated on. But when she asked me and to this day, I would say that while I don’t think my cesarean scar is aesthetically pleasing, it does represent something far more valuable that I gained by having it.

If I had not had this emergency surgery I or my son or could both have died. Instead I have a grown man who I love and am proud of as he makes his way through the world. I’m not going to glamourise this into a warrior story. Women have been through this rite of passage since the dawn of time and in the past likely would not have survived. This scar also honours them. I’m grateful for the team at Watford General Hospital who delivered him safely.

Delivering a man into this world of gender binary division is a dangerous business regardless. We are in the decay of patriarchy and the backlash from women particularly is understandable but also something to be expressed and cultivated with compassion for all beings. I don’t wish to live in a society without men. I gave birth to one. I feel that this segregation of masculine and feminine is the problem. We are all more fluid than that. Where fear and division arise is where we deny the ‘other’ in ourselves. The yin in the yang. Let’s think about what we are doing and if it is benefitting anyone. What is the fruit of our conversations/output/actions. Is it changing the world for the better or creating/escalating a sensation?

My skydiving instructor said “there’s no place for panic in skydiving” and I think it’s true of all things. Reacting from our visceral animal places leads to destructive actions. Reflect and respond. Which part of you is expressing itself?

You don’t do cuddles you say? Don’t be silly even lizards do cuddles 🥰