Mercy

 As Christmas Day fast approaches, I find myself experiencing all sorts of emotions. 

My oldest and much adored son will be moving to another capital city imminently and he will take, naturally enough, his son, due very soon to enter this world.  Covid provided me the luxury of plans being put off for almost a year, so the idea of not seeing him regularly was also put off into the backburner of my mind.

A few days ago I had framed an official photograph of his football team as Premiers of our AFL football league for 2009. (We always come close but haven't achieved glory since then.) It seemed a nice reminder of the city he loves whilst he was living in a warmer clime. I was doing fine until in conversation with the framer and it suddenly hit me why I was doing this task, and I got teary. 

Of course we will travel to them regularly but it's the first time one of my chickens has gone to live somewhere else permanently. It's only an hour's travel in the plane so it's not dire, but just a bit of a shock to the system. The saving grace, let me assure you, is that there is nowhere better to live than right here, so I know he will be back when he can (might have to get super senior in his company and insist because the market there is bigger than here). And, I know he'll want his son to go to his old school. There are forces behind the move back.

All in all, it's a lovely time of the year for me. It's the first time my grandsons will be at the beach, and we will all be there, so that's grand.

And yet, my mind returns, each and every day to a friend suffering with addiction 10,000 miles away. It's been without question the most rugged few months of his life. For a time, I had access to his sister, so while he was too ill to get me a message he was alive, I had her. But, he objected to the email interactions between us. I think, and I can't blame him, he felt we were colluding.

The point being, that having had a one liner email saying that he wasn't doing very well at all, and since then silence, I check my emails each day and due to the silence from him, I wonder if he is alive or dead.

Trust me when I say I have wracked my brain to think of something to do that is useful. Initially, I did all I could to get the people in his life to organize an intervention and get him to a long rehab situation where his body and mind had a chance to re-calibrate. I also aimed for time in a monastery. He needs a lot of silence; rest and peace. There simply wasn't the force behind the intention.

To my knowledge, he is alone at Christmas time in a vast city at a time of year he usually adores. In spite of my best efforts, my mind pulls back to that thought, and to all the people suffering right now.

I am filled with gratitude for what I have in my life but the best Christmas gift of all would be a note to say that he is being taken care of with people who know how to do that, and that in the end he will be all right. I don't think that note will come.

And so, I use this platform to urge you to be not just grateful but merciful this season.

Happy Holidays.

My little girl

 I happened to hear a woman describe this morning her complete inability to befriend her inner child. Basically, her little girl self looks at the grown woman and wants to know why on earth would she trust the grown woman.

This brought to mind the evolving sense that I have had of my 'inner child'. At first, when I heard that term and the term 'self love' I had no idea at all what those words meant. I became curious about the terms and went in search of definitions and descriptions. It was still academic to me.

(I did, however, sometimes embody her. I felt the vulnerability, the sweetness, the purity and innocence of her, long before I understood of her official existence within me. I had thought, for decades, it was my immaturity.)

In a meditative state, I tried to reach that younger part of me, and over time a young girl appeared in my mind's eye. She was me as I remember me at about eight years old. She had blond hair and was wearing it in plaits, just as I used to do at that time.

I couldn't help but notice that the little girl was inert, incapable of moving a muscle. Her arms were by her sides and she didn't make eye contact with me or anyone or anything else. She simply stared straight ahead. She spoke not a word or sound.

It went this way for many months. No words, no attempt to accept touch or comfort. She just stood there in the same spot in the place she lived, very close to the back door.

I offered the little girl an opportunity to come and live with me; to experience affection and joy. There was nothing left for her here, I said. No change. But, maybe she was listening, because one day there was a tentative smile, and she allowed a hug.

I promised her a wonderful home; loads of love and acceptance. I did this consistently, not expecting too much; giving her her time to develop trust in me.

One day, she agreed, and off she skipped to live with me, the grown woman. 

My heart swelled.

All that is a couple of years ago; pre Covid.

Last week, or the week before that, I was coming to the end of aYin Yoga class, deeply relaxed and completely embodied. And, out of the blue, without any conscious attempt by me I found myself saying (silently) to the little girl exactly these words:

"I love you. I love you dearly."

If you do the work, good things do happen.

'Interesting'

 This is an addendum to the last post, 'Just Sit'. It occurred to me, with the distance of a day since I wrote that post, that it could be interpreted by a reader as my suggesting that that's all that is required in all circumstances - to just sit.

Firstly, if you are new to meditation I would suggest you join a meditation class to avoid any pitfalls of thinking that there is some special way to meditate that you aren't doing. 

Also, a meditation practice adjusts over time and each person's experience is likely to be unique to them.

As an example, focusing on the breath - breathing in for the count of four, holding for two and breathing out for 4 (or longer) - works well for many people but not all people, who might do better just focusing on the sounds far away, or a mind picture that evokes tranquillity. 

And even if the breath is the point of focus for a while, it's unlikely to stay that way for the length of the meditation. When the mind offers some deep and intense revelation to the just sitting person, the breath is unlikely to be the focus.

I think it works well to maintain a sense of curiosity about the experience - wonder - of the workings of the mind in meditation.

I don't understand really why everyone isn't deeply curious about why they do what they do; the things that bother them, trigger them, delight them; bring them up, take them down.

As an example, I can catch myself these days in a 'longing' state. It comes up as needing something - more. But more of what? If I go in search of a piece of chocolate or follow a trail on the Internet to some object that Google thinks I might buy, is that about the chocolate or object? Hardly. Why aren't people interested in what's behind the behavior?

Enough. Enough. It's starting to sound like a rant.

The other concern I had about the 'just sit' post is that it might be construed by a reader as my suggesting that just sitting/meditation/silence was enough in all cases. It isn't. I tried psychological counseling twice and didn't get exactly what I needed but that's me and my life circumstances. It may well work for most others. And, if there are concerns sitting there - something that is denying you a sense of ease in your life - it's worth a try.

On that, I listen to a couple of psychologists chat on their podcast and I can say with confidence that finding a psychologist you like, and who likes you, is the name of the game. So, feel into the experience.If you are not comfortable, try someone else.

I went my own way, largely; read lots, listened to lots and felt into my experience. There were miscues and missteps but I think you could chalk that up to 'life'.

I very much like the idea of Elizabeth Gilbert, the writer. (Eat, Pray, Love; The Signature of All Things) who said that 'interesting' was a word she uses a lot now. So, the only person who fully understood her died. That's interesting. She thought she couldn't live without her but there she was eating a sandwich. Apparently, she could live without her. That's interesting...

In other words, rather than fuss so much about what happens to us on this journey we call 'life' we could note how interesting the twists and turns; how interesting the thoughts and feelings of a meditation sit.

There's so much less angst in that word, don't you think?

Just sit

There is a strong tendency to view the busy person as the right model for our culture. It suggests productivity and social connection. There's something to that.

Problems ensue however when a person is so busy that the notion of sitting still is scary. 

I think introverted types have much less trouble here. Seeking to spend time with themselves, there's more chance they might look out the window and watch the rain, do some yoga stretches and deep breathing, journal; take a bath.

You wouldn't be entirely wrong if you wondered if I hadn't set up my life so that there was at least a chance for these type of activities.

Now that I am in the officially 'old' category I give myself more time to simply 'be'. There's no guilt or shame about this (most of the time). There's relief.

I am still subjected to a mind that demands each day has some sort of 'progress' to it, even if that's just the progress of feeding family, preparing for Christmas, or getting to the end of my book club book - but I am more willing than ever to just call a particular day largely my own. 

To not go out, that's a day to my Self. (Self=one's true nature)

I heard somebody say recently, on a podcast I suspect, that meditation was an invitation to give yourself permission to do nothing. Ah yes, perhaps the Zen monk that was talking about zazen meditation!

So, in zazen meditation you just sit.  Thoughts, feelings, sensations...will occur. No need to focus on them or resist them. Just let them come...and go. No guidance, no music, no bells and whistles. Just sit.

This morning I heard 'The Urban Monk' say that meditation was a bit like growing tomatoes. Only a fool would plant tomato seeds and expect to eat tomatoes tomorrow. In 90 days, with good tending, you have yourself some excellent tomatoes. 

Just sit. Be patient. It only gets better.