Tag Archives: responsibility

In Our Hands

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Begin where you are–
You can’t be any place other
than where you are right now.
Begin right now
There is no other time besides
this one moment of now.
Just sit, come home.
Breathe.
Meditation isn’t some mystical thing
reserved only for saints and adepts.
Normal people like you and me
can sit, simply sit, and breathe.
It’s normal people like you and me
who will save the world, after all.
The power is in our hands.

War or Peace?

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World peace begins with us…
If not us, then who?
Every day it is a choice–
Will I work for peace
or will I go to war?
It is in all of the little interactions–
with our spouses, our neighbors,
our children, the mail carrier,
the grocer, the stranger on the street,
the person ahead of us texting
instead of watching the light…
It is in the way we speak to ourselves,
the things we say to ourselves
that we would never dare to say to anyone else…
It is a choice:
Will you work for peace,
or will you go to war?
The choice becomes clear
when you remember
that world peace begins with you.

Swirls of Thoughts

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Many thoughts, swirls of thoughts
then remembering what is real.
I take a breath, then another,
close my eyes…what do I feel?

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Only thirteen days until my workshop and I’m now feeling pressed to have everything be more concrete, to find a logical flow and sequence to the material I am presenting, and to make sure that I meet the needs of the workshop attendees–who will certainly arrive in many different shapes and sizes, different ages, different motivations…I’m planning on doing my best to appeal to the various learning styles, and I’m wanting to provide ample time for movement so that no one starts to feel achey or bored or sleepy. I am excited and at the same time overwhelmed.  How can I distill these precious teachings given to us by centuries of wise and compassionate masters into a form that is palatable to today’s western mind?  How can I present the material in such a way that my students will want to continue learning and practicing after the workshop is over?  

Lonely

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I question how much I should disclose in this public cyber space, but I reason that if my experience resonates with just one other person out there, and they realize that they aren’t the only one feeling what they’re feeling, then it’s worth it for me to share.

I feel lonely as hell today. Lonely in my role as mother to two young children who need me to get their basic needs met. Lonely with a mountain of laundry, meals to prepare, floors to sweep, toys to pick up. All I really want to do is lay down, curl in a ball, hibernate this day away, and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I don’t have that luxury, what with the kids needing to eat occasionally and all.

This lump forming in my throat is all the unexpressed sadness I’ve felt for a while but to which I have given no outlet. Who am I beyond the roles and responsibilities I fulfill in the outer world? Who am I beyond my function? If I am only mother, teacher, and wife, what happens when these roles are taken from me? Will I cease to exist?

I have a creative spark in me that longs to shine out into the world. I want to express ME. But so often I find myself folding laundry, picking up toys, preparing yet another meal–and I seem to be operating under the belief that to do these things requires a sacrifice of the self that wants to create. By the end of the day there isn’t much energy left in me to do anything besides meditate and go to bed. The creative spark recedes back into the folds of my deep dark consciousness and waits again.

Over time, noticing the things I’ve put on hold–knitting, painting, music, climbing, sewing, hiking, dancing, writing–I begin to feel angry, and then depressed. No time for me. No time for what I want.

This would be the moment, when I feel this way, that I would normally reach out to a friend. Some sympathetic ear that would reassure me that this won’t last forever, things will change, the kids will get bigger and more self-sufficient, I’ll have more time to pursue my interests. The friend would say something goofy to make me laugh, and my internal pressure would be eased, maybe even relieved completely.

But today is a day when I have not one friend. No friends. None. All of my girlfriends have moved away, and over time, nothing–not even Facebook or texts or even an occasional phone call–can help to bridge the distance and the ensuing awkwardness that arises when we realize that we really don’t know each other anymore. Not in the way that we used to. Why would I call my my former best girlfriends, who have moved out of state and have since formed new groups of best girlfriends, out of the blue to dump on them about how depressed I feel? Not cool. I would have to call them more regularly, find out how they are doing, establish a stronger phone friendship, before I’d feel comfortable believing that they’d even want to hear a single word about my misery.

Where does that leave me? Lonely as hell, with a mountain of laundry, kids to care for, toys to pick up, floors to sweep meals to prepare. Better get my nose to the grindstone…