Riding the Wave

Sometimes, it is very difficult to antiquate my life. For example, I have averaged 2,000 more steps a day in April vs. March, and yet I have spent the last couple of weeks feeling physically compromised. First with a period, and lately with some sort of mild illness. Why does my perspective get so eschewed? The problem that I face, is that I lose touch with reality so easily. And when I push myself too hard, I then can develop actual symptoms where I lose reality in a more literal way. Right now, I have to be extra careful, because the beginning of May these last two summers has led me into very serious episodes both in 2018 and 2019. There has been development, important progress, that has arisen because of these hard times, as well, and this is the beautiful evidence that hardship can lead to improvement. I have become more stable on better medications, I have become closer to my family as they have developed an interest in truly knowing what I deal with and how it is that I struggle, and I also started attending a twelve step program and have taken my inner healing to new heights. 

Sometimes, when we are faced with hardship, we also develop perspective. I experienced this just the other morning. I had achieved a state of chaos and heightened anguish from not allowing my gentle being to breathe around physical ailment, and this led to symptoms arising. I bit my lip, chanted with a mala for a full hour, and laid in bed and held at bay some pretty difficult feelings. I then became very angry when I couldn’t bear the psychological pain any longer. The next morning, however, I seemed to awaken to a peace of mind. The dirty floors and dishes seemed invisible as I walked around my house wiping the night cobwebs from my eyes. I had perspective; a sense that because I did not feel the anguish I had the night before, that everything was and would be okay. All that mattered was this gentle feeling of contentment.

Focusing on equanimity, a balanced state of mind where we do not feel joy, neither do we feel anguish, is the goal. When we become centered on a state of peace, and slowly allow the perspective of our humble lives to slip though the cracks, we become grateful. Or perhaps we practice gratitude to arrive here. The dirt on the floor is neither good nor bad. My choices are neither good nor bad. Whether I walk twenty feet or five miles, it does not really matter. I am alive, and I get to be here, observing and existing. It is thus when you hear a soft piano tune and you cannot distinguish if you are feeling happiness or sadness. Or when you realize you are so in love with someone that you cannot hold in the magnanimous joy that you have found this love, and yet tears flow at the thought that you will have to face losing them in the future. The bright, the truly bright, is rather sharp, and sometimes deep deep darkness can be soothing. 

As I sit here, and relax, I allow the colors to merge. The bright hues and the dark hues blend and marry. In this blending, fear dissolves and anxiety is muted. To lose track of the details at this point in my life is the goal. The goal is to reach beyond my goals, and to reveal what the deep pain and the utter joy is trying to show me. Perhaps they can be my guide, and when I acquire the ability to truly see, I can let them go. And then, there, I am just held, upon the notes of the piano, amidst the tweeting of the finches, between my breaths, and I then become one with the images that surround me. I lose my ego and become a part of the tapestry of life.