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.