Everything is for Sale
A while back the owner of my favorite yoga studio decided to sell some of his stuff that had been decorating the studio. He put up a flyer that said something like, “Everything is for Sale.” I don’t know what it said exactly but anyway there was a picture on it of a carved rose quartz Ganesha statue that had been hanging around the studio for a while that I had always been drawn to without really knowing it. I wanted to buy something to support the studio but my house didn’t really have space for any big new stuff and my bookshelf was already full of healthy, healing books I wasn’t ever going to read and the thought of buying yet another one just gave me kind of a self-loathing worthless overwhelmed kind of feeling so that was a no-go. Plus I didn’t feel like I had any disposable income what with being unemployed – I mean a full-time-stay-at-home-mom – I didn’t feel entitled to buy extra stuff. I had convinced myself that yoga classes were in the category of healthcare necessity but statues, pretty cushions, scarves, Tibetan items, anything made of hemp, no.
But then Mike and I were waltzing through the studio on the way to breakfast just to give the space some love and energy and I saw the rose quartz Ganesha and it called me. I took it up to the cash register. The yogi helper person was not sure what to do, the statue had no price on it. I called over Lenny, the studio owner and my teacher. “Hey,” I said, “How much do you want for this?” And he came over and he looked at me and he said something like, “oh, that piece is not for sale.”
And I would like to say that I said, “o.k.” and then went to breakfast, but that’s not who I was at that time in my journey. Who I was at that time in my journey was someone who said something like, “Whaddaya mean, not for sale? You said everything is for sale, bub!” And then I got into some weird ego-y kinda thing waiting for him to name his price and basically calling him out on his attachment issues and his commitment to stay afloat selling goods, regardless of their value or lack thereof, since no one has figured out how to sell only yoga energy magic for a high enough price to pay rent in this town.
So he caved, and he sold the rose quartz Ganesha to me, though he did bang me out for quite a pretty penny, which I respected. And it was cool, he was gracious about it all, saying he should have, could have asked for so much more. Which was true, but I’m not sure I would’ve paid it. So maybe we both felt a little like maybe we could have done better, but maybe we did the best we could, which is how I was taught people feel at the close of a solid deal. A little screwed, a little satisfied. Hmmmm.
And then almost immediately I started having this fantasy that one day when I was all yoga’d out and groovy, totally healed and channeling magic all the time plus balancing my checkbook and organized having my act together or whatever I would give the statue back. Just give it back, like, “I’m done with this now, thanks for the rental. Thanks for the loaner, thanks for all the yoga energy magic healing vibes I get in your class, man.”
But I’m really not done with the Ganesha, the remover of obstacles. I’m not ready to give it back and I might never be and maybe I’ll just forgive the person I was then, and the person I am now.
He could have said no if he’d really wanted to, though I have been told I can be quite forceful. Maybe next time I’m in class I’ll just say, “Thank you.” Maybe I’ll just enjoy my statue sitting on my desk, shining in the sunlight, reminding me to keep going. It is my most precious item and I don’t know why. Maybe I’ll ask him if he wants it back. But I don’t want to give it back. Not yet.