Ganesha
The other day I was sweeping the studio floor, preparing to teach class, when I literally tripped over the head of the mop as it broke apart. I tripped, and fell against the window sill, where someone had (playfully, I like to think) placed a tiny figure of Ganesha. In the Hindu pantheon of deities, Ganesha is generally understood as the remover of obstacles, as well as the god of success and new beginnings. Really, that’s kind of a tall order for any one being, even a god. A self-proclaimed “reverent agnostic” (can’t take credit for the name, though I’d like to), I take great, presumptuous liberties with Hindu mythology as I do with all religious traditions. I took this particular run-in with the remover of obstacles as a prompt to look at the obstacles themselves, and where they generally reside, in my own life.
The way I see it, if I’m going to pray to anyone to remove obstacles from my path, it’s at least my responsibility to understand the nature of the obstacles themselves. I think it is safe to say that most of my personal obstacles exist within myself.
I certainly have days where I am 99% sure the world is conspiring against me to keep me off my mat, or keep me chained to my computer, or keep me from writing that short story that lives (in serial form) in my head, on and on. I know perfectly well that most of my obstacles are of my own making. This is about as far as I got in my (amused) musings as I rubbed my sore toe and came eye to eye with wee Ganesha in the window.
It was my birthday, and I had other things to contemplate. Like, why had my youngest, beloved child not even bothered to pick up the itouch (Canada, no phone) and skype me? On my birthday? Poor me. I had a really lovely, low key birthday but the morning after I was morose with self-pity and righteous, motherly martyred love and sadness. Then, I saw that he had skyped around midnight and left me a video message (does he not know at this point in his life that I’m in bed by 9?). My lovely boy was charming and loving and apologetic, and near the end of the “skype message” he leaned in close to his screen and whispered “I met a girl!”. Then his face split into a huge grin. “yup! so….I’ll skype again later and tell you all about her. In person.” My gloom was instantly vaporized. So, sure, he met a girl, and that’s great. But there is nothing quite like seeing your child lit up from within with joy and love to soften even the most hardened, martyred mother’s heart.
I’m sure Ganesha has something to teach me about that, about obstacles of my own making that cloud my vision, but for now I’m going to simply be glad the clouds have parted, and enjoy the view.
