I have started to write about it, and halted in my word-tracks, because I am not quite sure what to say, in a way.
I usually have a clump of giant descriptors in my back pocket, yet nothing is coming out in the way I feel does justice to the experience.
Right now, it is simply like being suspended in a hammock looking down upon myself from the trees.
I don’t quite feel a part of things, but I don’t feel apart entirely either.
Life is rolling and swinging around me in a different way, and my body and brain don’t know how to react to the sway and the tumble of new people, new ideas and new space.
Lying in someone else’s bed and calling it your own for awhile is not uncommon. Staying in a hotel, a retreat. Camping on the ground, napping on a park bench. Anywhere you lay down, you are sleeping on borrowed beds. Even “my own” is a temporary resting place.
I want to be here. BE here. In this moment in time, without knowing where in but a few weeks, I will be laying my head. I must re-stop my mind whenever it runs too far ahead into worry and fear. I have been helped. I will find somewhere else to go. It is an adventure of sorts, letting life lead me from the usual complacency into a heightened sense of uncertainty, even beyond that which I have known before.
I am here to learn. To start down a path to trust. To take, if nothing else, detours away from the habit of travelling the same journeys again and again. But I am also here to be grateful and say thank you to both sides of the lesson plan; the seemingly destructive and the soft and supportive. Because it is all one..it is opportunity. It is all precious.
That was last week’s lesson. One of them. That all are precious, and there is nothing to distinguish the gifts you receive from those you enjoy and those who irritate you, those you are in love with and those who have broken your heart or maybe even your bones.
This is a hard place to get to in my emotional mind the majority of the time, but intellectually, I have understood this for a longer.
I wouldn’t be the same person that I am without my most brutal experiences. I wouldn’t have the compassion, and I would never understand the depths of fear. I wouldn’t be a seeker, and I wouldn’t comprehend the reach of loneliness into the endless seeming night.
When I am centered and quiet, I know that I am so lucky. When I am running off at the mind, I have to begin again. And again. And again. More often than not.
Here is yet another opportunity to start, and re-stop what I no longer need to believe, and by extension, act upon. Re-stopping means, there is the possibility these thoughts and actions may continue to come back. My goal is to be patient with them and befriend, rather than fight and argue and berate my own mind.
I will take this moment. And for now, be glad of it.