The Way Forward

I have spent years in the wilderness.  I found a clearing a few years ago but it did not lead to any sort of opening or escape.  On more than one occasion, I thought that I could bolt through the forest to find my way out but that proved to be futile.

Now is my time, and I have found the path.

I speak metaphorically, of course.  The clearing I speak of was discovered when I began the practice of meditation in 2013.  For some, tuning in to self cannot come from simply sitting and being, but I fell into it with ease.  I understood that chatter was okay; that it was fine to set an intention but at the end of each practice, nothing need be accomplished.

It just is.  I can just.be.

Currently, there are major shifts in this soul’s life, so I returned to practice.  I came home to the sangha and was welcomed as if by family.  It’s been only two weeks since I picked up where I left off but the clarity and stillness cultivated long ago never left.  Just like seedlings in a field; they have been dormant.  The only thing they needed was for me to notice.  To provide awareness.

My path ahead is uncertain.  I know to some degree what I do and do not want.

My practice will help me through.  And forward.

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On becoming more like a donkey

I can’t say specifically what caused this feeling of the upsweeping to come over me. Not that I’ve been truly on the downturn. Well, perhaps a few weeks ago for a day or so but not for any length of time. Perhaps it was a plateau I had been on, yes that must have been it. Perhaps for two weeks I stood on the plateau taking in my surroundings; looking behind, which I know does no good (there are a bajillion affirmations telling me so after all) but sometimes I do like to remember, to reflect, be a bit wistful. As long as I don’t ‘go down the rabbit hole’ as a dear friend said recently. Of course, going forward is the only other option. And what a vista before me; a slope that beckons to be ambled up. For, as I am constantly learning, these steps in life are to be ambled and bimbled. Tripping ahead, dashing forward would mean missing out on all the things.

And so I find myself forsaking, but not unfeeling the forlorn to bring on the new. New season, my favorite season. New plans in place to run in harmony with what I feed my body. With that point of view comes positivism and a renewed sense of calm from more time spent on the cushion. Financial niggles still…niggle, but I trust that things will work out okay (barring unforeseen circumstances).

Creativity stirs. I know myself in this area fairly well and judging by the number of great starts, I have been collecting an awful lot of sand. I write as my personality dictates; rushing out of the gate like a thoroughbred horse. Except, I haven’t been trained very well and I live on a diet of ice cream and cakes (no, I don’t really but you get the gist). I gallop with gusto for the first quarter mile but shortly thereafter, slow down until I am found, out of breath, out of energy and out of ideas. So perhaps (I consciously say) you take this little kernel of an idea and really really try to write a little each day. Really, really take it slowly. Allow things to grow. Allow characters to take shape. Nurture the storyline.

I’ve been here before and I feel a little like the boy who cried wolf. What makes this point in the journey so different? Why should I believe me? Who’s to say that by this time next week, my little kernel won’t have popped into an old maid, forced to find space on an already crowded shelf?

Like I said, I can’t say specifically, but between this:

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and what E. L. Doctorow said, “It’s like driving a car at night. You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”

…I am coming into awareness that this is one facet of my life that must be slowed down. Only then can I get done what I want done.

Not so much the thoroughbred horse on a sweet diet, more like a donkey with a bag of hay.

And, here I am, laughing at so much the last few days:

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