We did wall work today in yoga. That's where you go to the wall and do poses with or against the wall. Surprisingly, I experienced a great deal of resistance to doing the work today and not for the reasons one might imagine. It wasn't because the poses were challenging but because from the time I was quite small it was drilled into my head, "Don't put your hands on the walls." The reason for that is simple: we had light-colored walls and my parents didn't want me and my brother to leave marks with our grimy paws.
The amount of resistance I felt to putting my palms against the yoga studio's freshly painted walls was intense. I could barely bring myself to do it and when I did I was deeply uncomfortable and felt heavy with guilt. In fact, at first I tried to avoid putting my palms against the wall, despite being instructed to do so, and tried to do the poses with my hands lifted just barely away from the wall. This didn't work for long and I had to give in.
Later, during Shavasana, I went back to those feelings, trying to find and place them in my body. My lower back seemed to be holding in something big and related to these memories, something about childhood sadness and restriction, and I asked myself, "What could you put in this space in your body if you found a way to let this go?"
My mind immediately supplied an answer.
"You could pack it with strawberries," it said.
Haha. I have no idea what that even means, folks, but that's where my mind went and that's what brought the tears to my eyes. The idea of packing that place with sweet, ripe strawberries made me cry a little, and, well, it's choking me up now just typing it up. Clearly, there's something important to me in that imagery. Something deeper.
I'm afraid this isn't the most coherent post, but I wanted to write it and get the words out. I now have some other responsibilities to deal with, so I'll leave this in closing: I COULD PACK IT WITH STRAWBERRIES.