Journal: Pillow

A dear friend and I went to a meditation group the other day, specifically for women. When you enter the gentle space you are supposed to embrace the spirit of quietness and compassion. On the floor were rectangle blankets arranged in a circle. On these blankets lay one or two square pillows, the type you would find in India or buy in Tree of Life. My friend and I found our spot and prepared ourselves for meditation. I was immediately drawn to a pink velvety pillow on my friend’s blanket, which I hurriedly grabbed as I mumbled a request to have it. I made a huge presumption that that would be okay for her, but it wasn’t. She frowned in disbelief and scanned the room for an equally appealing pillow, found one (not as sensual and soft) and swapped it for the one I had given her. I sat on my blanket smiling and half laughing through my embarrassment. I immediately knew that I had taken us both back to our childhood when friends and siblings take from us what they want, disregarding our desires. That pillow was a symbol of beautiful things and feeling worthy of having them. And I had taken that from her. When my friend went to the toilet I swapped the pillow back.