I’m a lover, not a fighter…
I’m going to try to be brief. I wrote out my emotional angst in my journal, so I’m feeling a little lighter now…and am not seeking catharsis in this post. It’s time for bed, and there is much left undone–but it’s time for bed, and so it will all have to wait.
On the agenda for the near future:
My fearless moral inventory (Step 4), which was completely put on the back burner for NaPoWriMo, and which was conveniently never picked back up again. Maybe some of you will recall that I decided in February to work through the Twelve Steps in an effort to reclaim my creative self, and I was planning on working through a step a month to give myself some kind of scope for an entire year of daily posts. The one step a month thing completely fell through in April, but this doesn’t mean I won’t do the work, because I can see it is good work and may prove valuable to my journey as a creative being.
Although I never really considered myself to be an addict, I decided it would make things clearer to be completely substance free, and this August will mark a whole year of no Bacchanalian libations. My family has a history of substance abuse, and so they think I’m completely crazy for not drinking. Ah well…
Anyway, as I was about to write this post, I remembered a passage from the introduction to Coleman Barks’s A Year With Rumi in which he gives us Galway Kinell’s poem “Prayer” to consider:
Whatever happens. Whatever
what is is is what
I want. Only that. But that.
And then Barks proceeds to gush over it:
It is joyfully scientific, this pared-down, vast, three-ises-in-a-row petition of Galway’s. The world is so amazingly interesting, I want to be completely here for its moment. That longing is the truth I try to follow, rather than a religion’s iconography. Watch an astronomer or a molecular biologist at work, an estuarist opening the net he has pulled up out of Doboy Sound. They glow as the facts of the world surface.
You can see from my drawing above that I didn’t remember the exact quote from Kinnell’s poem, but the idea is still the same. I will not fight reality, because as Byron Katie says, “Fighting reality hurts, but only 100% of the time.” I want to want exactly what is happening now. From the place of non-resistance comes the clarity to choose the best path, or at least the best next step on the path.
So I keep my thought as I move into my meditation–Whatever is, is…
I am here, now
It doesn’t matter if my mind wandered a hundred times in the last minute–
Now, in this moment, I can be aware of this one breath in,
this one breath out.
Beyond the chatter of my mind,
there is this beautiful world, this life
this body plodding faithfully along,
the good friend that it is,
and for this moment I am grateful for what I have.
Yes, there is a long way to go,
or so my mind says–
but if I stop and really see,
I’ll remember that there is no distance
There is no time
It all unfolds in this now
And in this space of clear sight
I fall in love with the moment, exactly as it is.