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It is calm right now, little external distraction but my mind wanders endlessly.  I wish I could gently smile and bring my focus back to the task at hand; my meditation, but I am frustrated.  Mind, would you shut the fuck up so I can focus.  Fruitless words.  What would your reaction be if I said that to you?  You would probably flip me the bird or be insanely insulted and walk away.  The mind reacts just as you would.
So I start again.  I close my eyes and take deep, fulfilling breaths that fill my entire body, every cell in my being.  I pause at the top of each inhale, allow it to permeate and softly release it back into the universe.  5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes.  Damn it!  Why won’t you shut the fuck up?  Maybe today is not a good day to meditate.  If that is my reasoning, though, I suppose I would never meditate.
Life seems to be building up fast these days, like a freight train out of control.  Can’t seem to get a hold of the brakes and slow down.  Even my attempts at slowing the pace of life seem to make it only careen faster and more out of control.  As I scream that it is simply too much, my teacher says it is just enough.  My faith in that statement waivers.  All I can think is STOP!  Let me learn one lesson at a time.  Alas, I know I am smarter then that.  All this build-up, these experiences, are my lesson.  This is the curriculum I chose when I came back in this body, and now like it or not, it is what I am to learn.
So start again.  Close my eyes.  Breathe.  Inhale, exhale, repeat.  The muscles of my face soften, and all I hear is the sound of my breath.  I focus on the sensation of moving air.  Cool inhales, warm exhales.  Before I know it, there she is.  The me that is in so much pain and anguish that she can’t move.  She is sinking deeper everyday into an infinitely black pit; stuck without the ability to move.  God does she need me, God. Am I repulsed by her.
She is Ugly; bruised, beat, broken, scarred, empty.  Shallow humiliation in her eyes.  Her breath is shallow, ragged.  She looks starved. Starved of love.  She scares the shit out of me and it is all I can do not to turn my head from her.  But her arms are held out to me, asking for forgiveness, for compassion, for love.  All I need to do is to walk to her, to hold her, to cry with her.  My feet won’t move.  Why am I so scared of her, of me?
So I turn and run, as I have every time I have built up the courage to look for her.  If I only now had the courage to love her.  Today, though, I do not.  So tomorrow I will try again.  I will overcome this disappointment in myself, the embarrassment that I feel at not being able to cultivate a caring and compassionate relationship with myself.  I will be steadfast.  I will persevere.  Just not today.
As my eyes float open, coated with tears, I recognize and slowly acknowledge the beauty that exists around me.  The gentle, graceful flow of the creek, the laughter of a child, even the distant rumble of traffic brings soothing relief.  I can see all the beauty that surrounds me.  Today, I just couldn’t see my own.
I am okay though; I know it’s there.