While being a yogi means that one is less likely to be grumpy, less likely to be angry, it is not always just grit-free.
I’ve just heard a piece of news about a place I was very close to. A place that the condition at the time was so horrendous, me and my friend left scarred, scared and to this day, I refuse to be close/be associate with it.
And this place is somehow doing very well. From the condition before we left, it looked as though it was definitely going to be over. Deranged, delusional, fights, accusations, all of those that were wrong made up to be the one of the most stressful and depressing experience I’ve been through.
And looking at what seems to be a success base on this piece of news, I can’t help but be suspicious. There’s got to be some equally horrendous things going on behind the scenes, right? I can’t help but be a little bit angry at the inequality of the universe; that the horrible treatments that me, my friend, the people associated with it had received, is not paid back by some cosmic, poetic justice.
Sitting in front of the invitation that we collectively received, I’m splitting between shock, jealousy (?), disbelieve and a small degree of happiness for them. You see, as much as I would love to just be the meditated, yoga lovely dovey happy and forgiving saint/yogi, I am still holding on my grudge and am still jealous/angry/confused as hell.
As much as I preach and believe that one should accept thing as is and be happy with whatever circumstance that one finds him/herself in, as much as I am genuinely impressed and want to congratulate, I really, really, really want to tell them to go fuck themselves.