Nothing, I mean nothing, was exceptional about today. It was drizzly. I woke late and cranky. I couldn't even stretch because something aches in yet another new part of my body and I had about as much patience as a fruit fly for meditation which consisted of a few minutes of half hearted breathing exercises. What is wrong with me? I have no original thoughts; no particular inspiration and no real motivation to be writing today. So no great expectations. What is wrong with me today? The answer to that is - life.
Joseph Goldstein speaks about this in Insight Meditation. One can go through moments of ecstatic spiritual practice; seeing colors and visions and feeling the self/ego dissolving into the vast universe and then there are the days of cranky achey blandness, which is most of life. Samsara - the condition of being chained to the world of ego and repeated lifetimes of un-enlightenment. E.M. Forster speaks of this in his novel A Passage to India:
“Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it, and the books and talk that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate, in the hope of justifying their own existence. Inside its cocoon of work or social obligation, the human spirit slumbers for the most part, registering the distinction between pleasure and pain, but not nearly as alert as we pretend. There are periods in the most thrilling day during which nothing happens, and though we continue to exclaim 'I do enjoy myself' or 'I am horrified' we are insincere. 'As far as I feel anything, it is enjoyment, horror' - it's no more than that really, and a perfectly adjusted organism would be silent.”
― E.M. Forster, A Passage to India
However what I must say is that I am happy today. That in itself is a good if not exceptional thing.
I am happy despite the rain, because my lilies are beginning to push out of the ground. And even though the red beetles have pushed out too and begun eating them again, the Neem oil is on its way in the mail and I'll begin my daily rounds of tending them like babies. This reminds me of my grandmother and her daily battle with the Japanese beetles on her roses. That memory in and of itself is an exceptional thing. These garden rituals are ones I treasure. The peonies will bloom next and are making strong statements already with their leaves and reddish stalks. Even though the deer ate most of my tulips there are several blooms out front and I am determined they will not have my lilies. Barbara Boryshenko reminded me in my morning meditation book that thinking of one's own woes should be a reminder to remember those who are worse off. The surest way to move out of the ego is to think beyond it.
So remembering what makes me happy brings out what was exceptional about today. The anticipation of the lilies is one. The fact that my dentist told me that I will not need a root canal is another! That is exceptional. That my dear friend Janet is now cancer free and resting from her operation is the most exceptional of all. Then I think of my classroom of students this evening - all of whom I will say good-bye to soon - seven brave, intelligent, diverse young women - warriors really in the struggle to support: unaccompanied minors escaping the brutality of Central American drug cartels; psychotic adults with hoarding conditions; homeless women; severely neglected children; and adolescents with chronic diseases.
I am grateful for the roof over my head as I think about families in Mosul and I pray for the peoples of Korea who must put up with the frightening charade between 45 and Mr. Kim. Call your senators and congressman to say "no" to this dangerous game.
Joseph Goldstein speaks about this in Insight Meditation. One can go through moments of ecstatic spiritual practice; seeing colors and visions and feeling the self/ego dissolving into the vast universe and then there are the days of cranky achey blandness, which is most of life. Samsara - the condition of being chained to the world of ego and repeated lifetimes of un-enlightenment. E.M. Forster speaks of this in his novel A Passage to India:
“Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it, and the books and talk that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate, in the hope of justifying their own existence. Inside its cocoon of work or social obligation, the human spirit slumbers for the most part, registering the distinction between pleasure and pain, but not nearly as alert as we pretend. There are periods in the most thrilling day during which nothing happens, and though we continue to exclaim 'I do enjoy myself' or 'I am horrified' we are insincere. 'As far as I feel anything, it is enjoyment, horror' - it's no more than that really, and a perfectly adjusted organism would be silent.”
― E.M. Forster, A Passage to India
However what I must say is that I am happy today. That in itself is a good if not exceptional thing.
I am happy despite the rain, because my lilies are beginning to push out of the ground. And even though the red beetles have pushed out too and begun eating them again, the Neem oil is on its way in the mail and I'll begin my daily rounds of tending them like babies. This reminds me of my grandmother and her daily battle with the Japanese beetles on her roses. That memory in and of itself is an exceptional thing. These garden rituals are ones I treasure. The peonies will bloom next and are making strong statements already with their leaves and reddish stalks. Even though the deer ate most of my tulips there are several blooms out front and I am determined they will not have my lilies. Barbara Boryshenko reminded me in my morning meditation book that thinking of one's own woes should be a reminder to remember those who are worse off. The surest way to move out of the ego is to think beyond it.
So remembering what makes me happy brings out what was exceptional about today. The anticipation of the lilies is one. The fact that my dentist told me that I will not need a root canal is another! That is exceptional. That my dear friend Janet is now cancer free and resting from her operation is the most exceptional of all. Then I think of my classroom of students this evening - all of whom I will say good-bye to soon - seven brave, intelligent, diverse young women - warriors really in the struggle to support: unaccompanied minors escaping the brutality of Central American drug cartels; psychotic adults with hoarding conditions; homeless women; severely neglected children; and adolescents with chronic diseases.
I am grateful for the roof over my head as I think about families in Mosul and I pray for the peoples of Korea who must put up with the frightening charade between 45 and Mr. Kim. Call your senators and congressman to say "no" to this dangerous game.
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Please tell me what good thing you encountered today.