I was doing the flailing yesterday morning. Short little session to warm up my brain for Week Numero Dos at the new gig. And something about luxury came up while I was lying in savasana. I’m pretty sure it all happened because I decided to give myself a treat and do savasana on the fluffy, warm bed instead of the floor where I usually do it.
Let me tell you: falling into savasana atop a comfortor? Superb idea.
So as I fall into my deliciously comfy repose, luxury comes up. Luxury is a word I have given serious consideration approximately never. In passing, though, it hasn’t struck me as something I needed.
In my mind,
Luxury condominiums = massive gentrification
Lap of luxury = spoiled
Luxury home = suburban sprawl
Luxury car = assertion of manufactured masculinity
Which isn’t to say that my associations are correct. Rather, I recognize fully that they’re highly biased. They’re also significant and meaningful in my construction of who I am and where I’ve been.
But as I sink into my savasana, luxury starts to sound really good. It starts to sound like something I need in my life. Which means that now I’m starting to ponder what luxury means to me. As always seems to happen with Shiva Nata, answers breed questions.
What would luxury look like in the landscape of my life?
What’s up with the pain and discomfort that appears when I start thinking about having a relationship with luxury?
Is it possible to interact with luxury while maintaining a commitment to social and economic justice?
. . .
This post has no simple wrap-up. I’m challenging myself to keep it that way, because I have an overwhelming compulsion pattern of ending each piece of my writing with a neat, tidy bow. But my Dance of Shiva practice is so not tidy. It’s more like a multi-colored ball of yarn with several end spots. So ha! No bow today.
Comments and warm fuzzies: By sharing my seemingly nonsensical Dance of Shiva practice, I’m putting myself out there. Please share your own musings and be gentle with those of others.