” The path includes all experience, both serene and chaotic.” Pema Chodron
I decide I am done with the lying about wide awake. My thoughts are messy. I am tired of listening to them. I meditate on an insight I had many years ago about us being like atoms in a stream, bumping against the rocks, swirling around together flowing ever onward in a vast pool of water. I am pretty sure I was high at the time, but that has changed now and I am not high, the idea remains. Only I meditate that I am a rock, not a specific one, just any rock in the stream and my thoughts are the water. I have to let them flow past me. Sadly I have a big enough rock that the water seems to eddy in this one particular way that is wearing me down. Its messy. But I have to have faith that all this messiness is for a reason. I laugh derisively as I write this. A snort.
It is the messiness that wakes me. It is the messiness that keeps me awake. It is the messiness that sometimes makes me cry. It is the messiness that generally makes me laugh, even if it is a derisive snort.
I write in my journal, because apparently the spreading of the noise of my head on the internet is just not enough for me, that I have to learn to be a warrior. A notion brought to me by my slow and gentle reading and rereading of Start Where You Are by Pema Chodron. I have to have enough bravery to risk my heart being broken. I think I want my body to be strong and as I do my 15 mile bike ride in 1 hour, pushing hard for two minutes out of every 3 in the second half of the thirty improving my time by 1.5 miles, looking down as I do weighted squats at the firm muscle on the outer edge of my lower thigh, bulging. Strong. To be a warrior your body must be strong. I am working on that. I don’t want to say it is for someone else, it may have started that way, but today I realized it was, in the end, to help me deal with the messiness. And to make it possible for me to be a warrior. But what makes a person a warrior of compassion. How can one be a warrior for love. It is through meditation practice.
My meditation tonight was messy and chaotic, that damned eddy of thoughts. Go away. I say. But I know better, I know go away won’t work. I just have to sit with the thoughts. Even though it is messy and chaotic, and it is screwing with my Zen bliss. And my sleep. Though what woke me was a mess of a different kind. Though what brought me on this path was also a different mess. And here is opportunity for finding some sense of the sacred of life. Being thankful even for the messy stuff.
I suddenly see another person’s fear. I can almost feel it. And I find myself suddenly crying not for myself but for another. I am kind of blown away by this revelation. He tells me he has to protect his own heart, and I find myself wanting to protect it too. Isn’t this love?
Either way. I am a warrior. I have done battle and though I sustained an injury, I am recovered and willing to do battle again. No I will not bear a sword or a pistol. I will bear instead my open arms. And my loving heart. This is love.