The Junkie And The Monk...

This is one of my absolute favorite Moth stories ever, and I'm so glad they finally posted it to their YouTube channel.


The Junkie And The Monk by Mike DeStefano

Disappointments & Failures...

How's that for a title, huh?

I was in a pretty good place the last time I wrote here, almost a week ago.  But the past week hasn't gone well for me, and I've swung myself over to the opposite end of the scale since then.

It started when my weekend vacation in the woods didn't work out as anticipated.  I got some writing done (expect to be reading my crappy work off and on for the next week or so), but nowhere near as much as I had wanted.  The mosquitoes and other bugs were simply relentless, so I couldn't do any meditating out in the peaceful forest setting, either, which I'd been looking forward to a great deal.  (We are both covered in itchy, red bites from head to toe now.)  And the hot tub out on the back deck, which is one of my favorite features of this cabin-in-the-woods, and which might've provided some needed respite from the bugs, was broken.  So, while the weather was beautiful, and the setting serene, I couldn't really spend any time outside to enjoy it.  Oh, and somehow, we only managed to have sex once all weekend.  So pathetic.  What a waste.

And to top it all off, after all of these disappointments, combined with all of the stress of getting everything ready for the vacation, and then not being able to find any way to relax once we got there, I ended up succumbing to my addictive desires, and relapsed again.  So much for "looking forward to spending this weekend sober."  I somehow managed to justify it with the fact that I was using a drug I'd never used before, and not one of the ones that I'm currently trying to resist because I've had problems with them in the past.  (Basically, I told myself it was okay to use this drug, because it wasn't alcohol or pot or painkillers, and because I'd never used it before.  Which is such complete bullshit.  Same old pattern I'm trying to break:  avoid using one drug by using another instead.)  I'm not going to name the drug here, but it's legal (or maybe it'd be better to say that it's not yet illegal), and while not actually a painkiller, one of the active chemicals in the plant bonds to the opiod-receptors in the brain, producing the same physical sensation, without most (if not all) of the harmful side-effects of true opiates (liver damage, chemical dependency, respiratory failure, withdrawl, etc.)

So, basically, it's a safe, cheap, legal way to get an opiate-like high.  How the fuck am I supposed to say no to that?!  The horrible, deadly, sickness-inducing side-effects of opiates are what I use to convince myself not to do them in the first place!  Without them, I'm reduced to telling myself, "Well, you shouldn't use it because... well, because you've committed to a year sober and you don't want to feel like a failure.  Oh, and don't forget that if you get high, on anything, at all, you'll end up feeling depressed and lazy and unmotivated and emotionally unbalanced for a week, remember?"

All of which is true, but I couldn't bring myself to give a shit at the time.  And now I'm paying the price.  I just wanted to enjoy my vacation, and I had run out of other options that I could find.  Somehow, sitting around the cabin watching DVDs (two of the three movies we watched ended up being really awful) and snacking (which just made me feel fat - I could feel all of my workouts being undone with every bite) just weren't going to do it for me.   And that's my problem in a nutshell.  I couldn't bring myself to stay sober, knowing that it meant not enjoying myself on my vacation.  Because when I get in a situation where I feel like I need to have a good time, and I try and fail to find any other way to do it, I always know that I've got this sure-fire method right in my back pocket.  And, sure, that shortcut comes with a heavy price to pay, but I can never seem to bring myself to care about that in the moment.  I'm always willing to pay almost any price later to enjoy myself now.

Like I said last week, a lot of what I'm trying to work on right now is learning how to suffer; how to allow myself to be okay with something like having a shitty, sober vacation, rather than feeling like I have to get high in order to avoid it (which only ends up making for a shittier vacation anyways).  And this was put to the test this weekend, hard.  And I failed that test, completely and utterly.

Anyways, then I got home and found out that my wireless had broken, again.  So I had to take the laptop back to the shop and have them fix it, again, less than a week after I got it back from them and spent two days frantically trying to restore all my files and programs.  But before I took it back to the shop I wanted to make another back up, since my previous one is corrupted.  I decided to back-up to disk this time, since every other method I've tried has failed.  After three hours, and three failed attempts, I had to give up on that method, as well.  (I have never, not once in my entire life, successfully backed-up a computer.  Every single attempt I have ever made using any method has failed.  Either it crashes while creating the back-up, or it doesn't restore from the back-up properly.  Why the fuck do I even bother?)

Then the depression from a weekend spent getting high kicked in full-force, and (combined with all of the other things I was already legitimately depressed about) totally knocked me on my ass, and I ended up calling out sick and spending two days on my couch playing video games.  (I am such a fucking child!)  I'm chemically exhausted from the coming-down, and so it takes me hours to get up and out the door in the morning.  As such, I haven't worked out in almost a week, and I know I've managed to completely undo most of the gains I've made with all that hard work in the last month.  I finally managed to make it into work today, but an hour late, only to find out that I missed an important assignment while I was out, and my boss had to take care of it for me.  (I didn't know about it, because I couldn't check my work email, because my computer is still fucking broken!)  Then my boss had a "talk" with me about the fact that I never seem to have any internet at home.  (For years, this was because our building's internet sucked.  And now that we have finally managed to fix that, my computer has been broken for a month!)  And my story of why I never seem to have internet at home sounds ridiculous (even to me, and I know it's true!) so she didn't believe me, and I can hardly blame her.

I skipped SMART last night, because I'm too depressed, and too much of a coward to face all those assholes and admit what a stupid fucking failure I am.  And I skipped my therapist appointment today (which I should be at right now, actually) because I couldn't bring myself to leave work early to go to my appointment, after missing two days and then coming in late today.

So, basically, my vacation sucked, I relapsed, I'm chemically depressed and exhausted, my computer is still broken and back in the shop again, I haven't worked out in a week, I'm way behind and in trouble at work, and I feel like a miserable, worthless, piece-of-shit excuse for a person right now.

And it is ALL.  My.  Fault.

Attack Of The Blurble...

Ok, so, got my computer back, and spent all night setting it up.  Naturally, the System Restore crashed.  (I used Microsoft's built-in Backup/Restore this time.  This is the 3rd backup/restore method I have tried over the years, and not one of them has ever worked correctly.)  About 65-70% of my settings/files/programs restored correctly.  So, still some work to do, but nowhere near as much as there could've been.  Thankful for even the small victories right now.

Speaking of small victories, I'd been prepared for playing kickball tonight in the middle of the brutal heat wave we're having right now, but then this morning they canceled the game.  Apparently, a whole lot of people weren't going to bother playing in this heat.  So, hurray for that.  Not only because I won't have to play - or play in this heat - but also because I have a ton of other work to do tonight to get ready for our vacation this weekend, and I wasn't relishing the idea of having to do all of that around nine o'clock tonight when I finally got home from playing a game out in near-110 degree temps all evening.

And speaking of our vacation at our mountain forest cabin this weekend, I'm so happy to have my laptop back!  Means we'll be able to listen to our music, and, most importantly, I'll be able to get a bunch of writing done.  My plans are to spend as much of the weekend as possible writing, meditating, eating, and having sex.  Those are my only priorities for the next three days.  Definitely not going to suck to be me this weekend.

No wifi at the cabin, though, so don't expect to hear anything from me until at least Sunday.

And I keep forgetting about the fact that this will be my first ever trip to the cabin spent entirely sober.  I never would've even considered going up there before without at least something to drink or smoke.  Now I'm actually looking forward to it, and the fact that I'll be sober is an almost-overlooked afterthought.  Is that progress?

I hope you all enjoy your weekends half as much as I'm planning to enjoy mine.

Sunday Meditation...

Been real busy this week, for so many different reasons, so haven't had a lot of time to meditate.

The one time I did, it didn't go well.  And then I was out running errands all day yesterday and barely had any time at home at all.  So I definitely wanted to take advantage of the opportunity today.  It's beautiful outside, and we have all of our windows open, letting in the sunlight, and a crisp, fragrant Spring breeze.  Just being home is almost meditative right now.

But, still, I felt myself getting lazy.  I just wanted to watch TV.  Maybe play some video games, or take a bath and read.  I didn't get a chance to do my mathematics lesson this morning like I usually do, and part of me was telling myself that my time would be better spent on that, or some other more stimulating activity than simply sitting and breathing.  But nonetheless, I pushed all of those thoughts aside.  I could feel inside of myself, a sense of being out of balance.  I've been busy doing and thinking a lot lately, really getting lost in my head.  Somewhere inside, I could tell that what I needed right now was to give that part of me a break, and let my heart and my gut take over for a while.  I could feel that sense of flow inside of me, pulling me towards my cushions, and my altar, and a brief period of peace.

As always, I'm glad I followed my Tao.  It was just what I needed.

What I realize as I observe this, is the Tao of Listening Inside.

In every situation, we already know what to do.  Even when we don't.  The answer to every question is already inside of us.  When we don't know what to do, it is only because there is too much noise in the way.  If we can only learn to be quiet, and listen, then we will hear - and we will know.

In stillness and peace, the Path becomes clear.  And so we can choose to follow it.

Obstacles...

I cannot tell you how long this road shall be, but fear not the obstacles in your path, for fate has vouchsafed your reward. Though the road may wind, yea, your hearts grow weary, still shall ye follow them, even unto your salvation.   -Blind Seer, O Brother, Where Art Thou?

It seems as if the Universe has decided to test me.

I was pulled over for speeding last night on my ride home.  I was in the middle of a long line of cars, just following the car in front of me for miles and miles.  At one point, the car in front of me stopped to make a left-hand turn.  Afterwards, I sped up to rejoin the line of cars that had moved off down the road away from me as I waited for the car in front of me to turn.  I have no idea how fast I was going, or what the speed limit on that part of the winding road was, but that must've been where they caught me, because as I came up the next hill and around a bend, a Sheriff's deputy stepped out into the road ahead of me and signaled me to pull over.  There were two deputies parked in someone's driveway, both pulling people over in the same way.  It was clear this wasn't the actual speed trap; this was the net.  I never saw the trap, but I assume that it must've been somewhere on that part of the road just after that left-hand turn, because that 100 yards where I sped up to rejoin the line of cars was the only time on the entire commute up to that point that I hadn't been in the middle of a line of cars.  At every other point we'd been moving along like a line of ants, and I'd been going the same speed as the car in front of me, and the same speed as the car behind me. When I asked the deputy where I'd been speeding, all he would say was "Back there," pointing down the road in the direction I had just come.  Well, duh, officer.  Vague, much?

He said I was doing 67 in a 40.  I don't think that's true, but I have to take his word for it.  Normally, when you see a speed trap, it's reflexive to hit your brakes and check your speedometer.  But since I never saw a trap, and since I was just trying to catch up to the car in front of me, I have no idea what speed I was actually going.  And since he won't tell me where I was actually caught, I can't even verify that the speed limit was actually 40.  But, whatever, no big deal.  An $80 fine and 1 point on my license.  Even though I just finally cleared all the points off my license this year, still, whatever, it's not the end of the world.  And it could've been a lot worse - the deputy was giving me a big break by only charging me with 49 in a 40, rather than the full 67.

But I found that I had a really hard time getting over it.  I felt like this completely ruined my new commute for me, this new route to work that I've fallen in love with and come to rely on.  Because part of the reason this commute was so good for me was that it was relaxing - stress-free compared to 270.  But now that I know that around every bend there could be a speed trap that I will never even be able to see, I'm feeling paranoid.  My worry-free drive is now worry-ful.  So, in order to deal with that I have to obey the speed limit, but that doesn't really help, either.  Because now I'm constantly checking my speedometer and always worried about whether I'm speeding or not, where before I never even had to think about that.  Also, a lot of the enjoyment of this road was that it was just a fun road to drive - a winding backroad through farm country.  Having to obey a completely ridiculous 40mph speed limit on a twisting road in the middle of nowhere just sucks all of the fun out it.  So now it's no fun, and stressful.  Fuck, I might as well go back to taking I-270.

I was still really tense and upset when I got home, so I decided to try and meditate to see if I could relax a little.  But it was really late by that point (I'd got caught at work and left later than I'd planned, then I had to stop by the grocery store, not to mention spending fifteen minutes sitting by the side of the road with the cops), and I still had a bunch more work I needed to do, so I didn't have much time available.  Trying to meditate under pressure to hurry up and finish so you can get back to work is pretty self-defeating, to say the least, so as you can probably imagine, it didn't go very well.  But the biggest obstacle was that I had a song stuck in my head.  This is something that has come up consistently throughout my entire meditative history, and I have never found a successful method of dealing with it.  Basically, every once in a while, I will try to meditate, and I'll find there's a snatch of a song repeating in my head, and there's simply nothing I can do about it.  I never get any meditation accomplished during these sessions, because the song continually breaks my concentration, and there's no way to get rid of it.  And every time it breaks my concentration or breaks me out of my meditation I get a little more upset about it.

So when I sat down this time, and heard the song in my head, I knew that I was completely fucked right from the start.  Still, I tried anyways, doing a full 108 breath cycle, but it did no good.  When I stood up from my mat, I was even more stressed out and upset than I was when I sat down.

Our internet was still down, so that made a whole bunch of things more difficult and/or impossible, adding further frustration, complication, and aggravation to an already stressful evening.  When I finally got to bed, it was no surprise that I didn't sleep very well.

This morning, my beautiful, relaxing new commute was, as predicted, stressful and unpleasant.  But at least I didn't get pulled over.

I got to the gym bright and early at 7:30, only to find the place packed.  Every treadmill taken, every elliptical taken.  Part of the reason I enjoy working out in the early morning is because it is never packed.  But there were at least twice as many people in there this morning as I have ever seen in there before!  I have never had to wait to use a machine before, either.  I didn't know what to do.  So I ended up just standing around for fifteen minutes, until a machine opened up.  Which, of course, threw off my schedule for the rest of my morning by fifteen minutes.

But here's the kicker:  about an hour after I get up to my office from the gym, She calls me to tell me that she's just been fired.  From the job she's had for eight years.  By her new boss (about the tenth she's had in the last two years), who's been there only a couple of months.

Wow.

Ok.

Gotta say, didn't see that one coming.

Up to this point, it had just been a series of annoying complications.  But this is different.  This is a sudden 90-degree turn in the course of our life from here on.

It's kind of difficult to take it all in, honestly.  Suddenly, the foundation of our lives has become slightly unstable.  We know a lot of things are about to change, drastically.  But, we don't really know which things, or how, or in what way.  It could be anything from Really Bad (e.g., we can't pay our mortgage and end up losing our home, etc.) all the way to Totally Amazing (e.g., she could end up with a new job that she loves, that pays better, that finally gives us more time together, etc.).  Everything is up in the air, which is scary, but also full of potential, which is exhilarating.

This time will be what we make of it.

So, are we up to the challenge?

I have to say, I'm looking forward to finding out.

The Beginning is a delicate time.  -Princess Irulan, Dune

The Night of Walpurgis...

Believe it or not, meditation isn't always relaxing.

Sometimes, there is no void.  Sometimes, there is instead a flood of creative energy.  Sometimes, meditation can be almost overwhelmingly stimulating.

And today was one of those times.

The rush of ideas was so intense that I could barely concentrate on my breathing, and frequently lost focus.  And count - I counted to 108 breaths, but I'm sure I actually breathed twice that many.  And the inspiration was as varied as it was relentless.  I had ideas for stories I want to write, people I want to contact and the reasons why and the things I want to say to them, projects I want to work on and how I want to go about them, reminders, notes, insights and realizations of every sort.  For a while, try as I might to ignore it and focus on counting my breaths, I was even aware of this very post writing itself out in my head.  But the biggest and most immediate idea that occurred to me during this creative blitzkrieg, and the subject of this entry, is how I'm going to handle the Walpurgisnacht.

So, I had my last drink this past Sunday, and I had my last toke the Sunday before that (that's a story for another post), though it's been many months since I've smoked on a regular basis.  The plan was/is to spend a full year completely sober for the first time in my adult life.  This is something I've known I needed to do for a long time.  I'm a particular kind of addict (I'm sure there's a word for it, but I don't know what it is) - I can be addicted to this for awhile and then put it down, and then be addicted to that for awhile and then put it down, and so on.  I don't really have a drug of choice, per se, though I do have preferences, and there's some drugs I absolutely can't stand.  But what I'm actually addicted to, is getting high, however that happens.  When I quit smoking cigarettes, I compensated by smoking more pot.  When I quit smoking pot, I compensated by drinking more.  And I always knew I was robbing Peter to pay Paul, but at the time Paul was the one threatening to break my kneecaps, so I just told myself I'd deal with Peter later.  But I'm getting older now, and feeling more mortal by the day, and it's time to finally deal with my addictive behavior at the root, rather than dealing with any given addiction to a particular substance one at a time.

But there are some other reasons to do it, as well.  Purely from a health perspective, it'd just be good to give my body a bit of a rest from all the punishment I've put it through the last twenty years or so, now that I'm getting older.  It's also partly an experiment - I just want to see what will happen if I stay completely sober for a year.  It's partly to give my brain chemistry a chance to return to some semblance of normal, and then to re-evaluate and see how I feel, and who I feel I am.  And in part it's also a test - I want to see if I can do this.

Ok, so what does all that have to do with Walpurgisnacht?  The night of April 30th*, aka Walpurgisnacht, or Hexennacht, or Witches' Night, or May Eve, is a very important holy day on the Heathen calendar.  It is the counterpart to Yule, the holiest season of the year, and marks the other pole of the ancient pagan year (the two holidays being approximately six months apart).  As during Yule, it is believed that the barriers between the material world and the spirit world are more permeable on the Night of Walpurgis.  The Eddas (ancient Heathen holy epic lore-poems that comprise much of our knowledge of their religion and culture) tell us that it was on Walpurgisnacht that Odin earned the knowledge and power of the Runes.  He stabbed himself through the chest with his spear, pinning himself upside-down to the World Tree, Yggdrasil, and hung there for nine nights.  On the ninth night, May Eve, he "died" as much as a god-creator can, his consciousness leaving his body and descending to the three wells at the root of the World Tree, wherein he found and took up the Runes.

I know that I hung on a windy tree

nine long nights,

wounded with a spear, dedicated to Odin,

sacrifice self to myself,

on that tree of which no man knows

from where its roots run.

No bread did they give me nor a drink from a horn,

downwards I peered;

I took up the runes, screaming I took them,

then I fell back from there.

                                      -Runatal ("Odin's Rune Song")
                                        The Havamal


It is also the night before May Day (hence "May Eve"), which is, of course, the generative fertility holiday of Spring that gives us Easter and Beltane and all of the other "sex and babies" holidays associated with this time of year in the West.  And so for all of these reasons, Walpurgisnacht is traditionally associated with magick and sorcery (magick, like sex, being another form of creation).

For almost ten years now, I have celebrated Walpurgisnacht in the same way:  enjoying a specific psychedelic sacrament, and performing all manner of sorcery and divination and psycho-spiritual exploration until the Sun comes up on May Day.  So that's put me in a bit of a dilemma regarding how to celebrate this year.  Because I don't want to break this spiritual tradition that I have kept for so long now, but I also don't want to fail at staying sober almost immediately after I've started.  And it's further complicated by the fact that, though I realize it is technically a drug, and would affect my neurochemistry in the exact way I'm trying not to do right now, I really do not view this particular experience to be at all related to what I'm currently attempting to avoid.  What I'm struggling with right now is regular, recreational drug-use, and this is neither of those things.  This is not a fun, pleasurable drug that makes me feel good so that I want to do it all the time.  This drug is an intense, exhausting, highly spiritual experience for me, and more often than not Walpurgisnacht is the one and only time I'll do it all year.  It is impossible to get addicted to it, and I have never craved it.  So, while treating it the same as booze and pot might not be comparing apples and oranges exactly, it certainly doesn't feel like comparing oranges to oranges, either.  More like oranges to tangerines, perhaps.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and it's been weighing on my mind heavily.  My gut, my sense of flow, my sense of my Tao was telling me to go through with it, but when it comes to my instincts telling me to use drugs, it's hard to tell whether it's really my Tao or my addiction masquerading as such.  And I've spent so long training myself to ignore that voice inside me telling me to get high, and I'm focused so much on doing that right now, that even though I felt so strongly in my heart and my gut that it was the right thing to do, in my mind it's seemed like a death-sentence.  But when I examine my feelings, I really do not want to drink or get high right now, which leads me to believe that my desire to do this must be about something more than that.  But then again, "Denial is how it kills you," and I've learned to never let myself accept even the possibility of living in denial.  And so lately I've been leaning towards a compromise, wherein I celebrate the holiday as normal, only minus the sacrament.  It seemed like the only way to do it, really, but it left me feeling very sad for the loss of this unbroken chain of tradition (almost ten years!) and I just could not shake the feeling that I was doing something wrong.

But now I know what to do.  In that lightening storm of ideas that assaulted me during my meditation, it hit me.  And, as so often seems to happen with those "Eureka!" moments, the solution seems so obvious now that I cannot believe I couldn't see it earlier.

I will stay sober from now until Walpurgisnacht, as planned.  And I will celebrate that night, as usual, as I have so many years before.  And then I will start counting my one year of sobriety from the next day, May Day, the day of birth and re-birth and life and renewal.  I'm not really losing anything by restarting my year-countdown on May Day (oh, woe is me, I had to stay sober one year and two weeks minus one day, instead of just one straight year - waah), and I'm gaining a lot more in return.  And the spiritual meaning of it all lines up so nicely:  my year of sobriety, a year of monasticism and self-sacrifice, will span from Walpurgis to Walpurgis, the holy day celebrating self-sacrifice for the acquisition of power and wisdom; and it will begin on May Day, the holy day celebrating life and love and creation.  And having this period of sobriety line up with my spiritual model so well will give me another powerful incentive to see it through, and will significantly increase my chances of success.

It's perfect.  And in my heart, I feel it's true.  I feel it in my gut.  And I feel it too, in my head.  It all lines up.  It all feels right.  It flows, finally.

To sacrifice Self to my Self, with no drink from a horn, until screaming, I fall back from there.

This is my Tao.

...

*corrected from 31st - duh - 4/23/12

The Itch...

I haven't found any inspiration today.

I got a lot accomplished, ticked a lot of items off of my to-do list, laughed and cried at various Moth stories that I listened to all day long, and in just about every way had a wonderful day.  But the whole time, there was this nagging voice in the back of my brain reminding me, "You have to come up with something to write about."  And, I just never did.

It was very frustrating.  But, at the same time, I know that creativity and insight can't be forced.  We can encourage them, but not make them happen.

When I got home, still with no ideas, and the pressure to post mounting, I decided to meditate.  Truthfully, I would've done that anyways, because I had both the time and the desire just then, but I couldn't help but hope that possibly, as an added bonus, the meditation might help spur something creative in me.  Not necessarily give me an idea for something to write about, but maybe make me more receptive to ideas, so that one would be more likely to arise spontaneously.  Or, at the very least, I could write about my meditation; might be kinda boring, but at least it's something to post.

But my attempt to meditate was a complete failure.  I was plagued by physical problems the entire time.  My back started hurting almost immediately, I couldn't find a comfortable position for my legs, and to top it off, there was something irritating my eye that I just could not seem to fix.  I couldn't concentrate at all, and on my fifth attempt of not getting past twenty breaths, I just gave up.  (This is a pattern.  I always have a session like this one - failure due to physical issues - within my first handful of sessions after I start meditating again.)

I could've forced myself to continue if I'd wanted, but there's really no point.  Meditating isn't like exercising, it's not about working through the pain.  It's about relaxing and letting go.  And so if there's some issue that's preventing you from doing that, then it's best to simply stop, and try again later.  I remember my teacher telling me, "If you have an itch while meditating, scratch it.  Do not try to simply ignore it.  That will only make the itch grow and grow until you are entirely focused on it, and are unable to concentrate on anything else.  And then you are not meditating.  It is much better to stop for a moment and scratch the itch.  Then it will go away, and you can return to meditation."

What I realize as I observe all of this, is the Tao of Scratching the Itch.

Sometimes, I'm not going to be able to meditate successfully for one reason or another.  And this is inherent in the practice of meditating - I will not always succeed, anymore than I will always fail, and that is just the Way of Things.  And so when that happens, the best thing to do is not waste any more time or energy than is absolutely necessary trying to do something that isn't working.  As soon as I realize that it isn't working, it is best for me to simply stop, and try again some other time.

Similarly, sometimes I'm not going to be inspired to write anything.  And this is inherent in the practice of writing.  Sometimes I will have something I feel a need to write about, and sometimes I will not, and that is just the Way of Things.  And so when I have nothing to write about, it is best not to waste any more time or energy worrying about it than is absolutely necessary.  Pressuring myself to come up with something meaningful or worthwhile or inspiring to write every day, when I'm not having any meaningful or worthwhile or inspiring ideas, is like trying to resist scratching an itch - soon the pressure to write becomes all I can feel, and being inspired then becomes impossible.  So it is best to simply let it go, and walk away, and try again later.

Go with the Flow.  Take what you get.  Remain open and receptive.  Do not want.  Do not force.  Do not expect.  Let it come as it will, and it will come.

That is The Way.

...

Addendum:  when I read that, it sounds like I'm saying I don't feel the need to post here every day.  That's not what I'm trying to say, but I didn't want to rewrite the above to try and make that clear.  I like the way what I wrote above stands, and so I want to leave it at that.  But please understand that I still intend to try to post something every day.  All I'm trying to change is the way I respond to the pressure inherent in that situation, and to my feeling that anything I post here needs to be somehow insightful or meaningful to a certain degree in order to be worth posting.  Sometimes, my posts might need to be mundane, and I should learn to accept that and be ok with that, because it is an absolutely necessary part of the process.

I do apologize in advance, however, to all three of my readers, for any future posts that might be less than thrilling.

The Tao of Rejuvenation...

I felt really sick this morning for some reason.

Chills and queasiness, lethargic and drained.  I didn't know what was wrong, or what to do about it, but I knew I wanted to feel better.  I decided to try and meditate, and see if that helped.

Fell right into it, perfectly.  Sometimes it takes a while to get into it, you end up adjusting your position here and there a bunch of times, trying to find that sweet spot of comfortableness, or it takes a few tries to focus on your breathing, etc.  But there are also times like today, where you sit down straight into the perfect position, drop your eyelids, and fall right into it, like you've never left.  I immediately started to relax, and feel better.

Went for 216 breaths - 2 full mala.  I probably could've gone for a while longer, and I considered it, but by that point it was beginning to get a little more intense, and I didn't want to push it; this was about relaxation, not psychospiritual exploration.  I'll save that for another day.

When I came back to myself, I found that I did, indeed, feel better.  Not great, but a lot better.  No more chills or queasiness.  Still a bit lethargic, but it was much more like a pleasant relaxation than a forced sleepiness.

What I realize as I observe this, is the Tao of Rejuvenation, through Centering in the Void.

The period of meditation acted almost like a restart to my system.  I emptied myself of all the unpleasantness I was experiencing, centered and stabilized myself within the void of perception I'd created, and returned to myself, almost as new, cleared of a lot of the gunk I had been holding onto, and ready to move forward again.  I still only had so much to work with at the time, so I wasn't going to make myself feel completely 100% fantastic.  And I didn't get anywhere near experiencing a mystical moment of complete ego-dissolution, so it wasn't like I became an entirely new person or anything.  But that was never the goal.

I let go to create a void within myself, and allowed myself to relax into that void and simply experience it.  And when I allowed myself to return from that void, I felt renewed, and rejuvenated, and I found that the worst of my bad feelings had melted away.

And undeniably, I feel much better now.

Sitting In Stillness...

Finally meditated again this afternoon.

I've been wanting to meditate for over a week now.  But my altar and my cushions were all covered in a thick layer of dust.  (How's that for a metaphor?)  And it's been hard to find the time this week to clean everything and get it all ready to be used again.  But today I had plenty of time, and there was nothing I wanted to do more.  So I took it all apart, cleaned everything until it was looking like new, and then set it all back up.

It felt so good to be sitting there again, counting my breaths.  A little strange, only because it's been so long, but also so intimately comfortable and familiar, because I've spent so much of my life that way now at this point.  Kind of like putting on your favorite old pair of jeans after not wearing them for a couple of years.

I've decided to do things a little differently this time around; we'll see how it goes.  In the past, I've set aside a certain amount of time for meditating - 15 minutes, 20, 30, an hour, whatever - and used a timer to tell me when that set time period is up.  I actually have a special meditation timer just for that purpose.  When the chimes sound, it's time to stop meditating.  But I've decided not to do that this time.  Somehow, it just feels too rigid and boxed-in.

Instead, I've decided to just meditate until I feel the desire to stop.  Maybe sometimes I'll stop after a certain number of breaths.  Maybe sometimes I'll stop when my back can't take it anymore, and the pain gets too intense.  Maybe sometimes I'll stop when I get distracted and lose focus.  Maybe sometimes I'll stop when I just feel the time is right to stop.  Who knows?  The point is, that each meditation will be unique, and each experience will be dictated more by the feeling of the flow of Tao within me, than by whatever my brain decides is the most appropriate time to put on the clock.

Still, I'm curious to know how much time I spend meditating in each session.  So, I'm still using my meditation clock.  But now, instead of an alarm counting down, it's a timer, counting up.

Once I'd settled into position and gotten into a rhythm of counting my breaths, and begun to relax, it was just like riding a biker.  It felt like I've been doing it my whole life.  There was nothing that seemed to indicate that it had actually been almost a year since I'd last meditated.  And it just felt so good.  And so right.  So peaceful and serene.  So calm and quiet.  So empty and relaxed.  I knew I'd missed these feelings, but it took being there again to really bring home to me just how much I'd missed them.

I stopped after 181 breaths.  Seemed like a nice, prime number.  Also felt like I'd about hit my physical limit; my back was starting to hurt pretty bad on every inhalation.  When my eyes had adjusted to the light again, I checked the clock, and found I had been sitting there in stillness for just over half an hour.  Double the amount of time I used to spend in a typical session.  And basically effortless compared to the half-hour sessions I used to do, where I would have to push myself to get through it, always waiting for those chimes to sound, always wondering how long it had been so far, always "surely my half hour must be up by now!"  But this time, without that predetermined finish line to push towards, there was nothing for me to do but simply let go, and relax, and breathe, and be still.

I can't wait to do it again tomorrow.

The New Commute...

I started taking a new route to work this week.

I've known about this route for years - a snaking backroad through farm country that leads straight from my home to my office - but I've always been told it takes about 90 minutes to traverse, so I've never bothered with it.  Taking the more direct route down the clogged and congested 6-lane commuter highway, I-270, takes me 90 minutes on the absolute worst days.  Usually only takes me about 45 minutes to an hour, on average.  And my top priority was always to minimize the amount of time my commute took above all else.  As far as I was concerned, an hour and a half to two hours a day in shitty traffic on a big highway was much preferable to three hours a day in shitty traffic on a country two-lane.

I realize now, as I so often have, what a fucking idiot I am.

I don't know why I decided to take the back way on Monday morning.  The pull of the Tao in my gut urged me in that direction just then, and so I followed the flow.  It took me 45 minutes.  And I know for a fact that was a heavy traffic day.  So far this week, it has taken me an average of one hour to make the trip either way.

And it is a beautiful drive.  Farms and orchards and tiny, old towns the whole way.  Great views in every direction the entire route.  Forest trails and nature preserves and river walks one after another.  Blooming dogwood trees and cherry trees and pear trees every-fucking-where I look.  It even smells wonderful!

And it's fun to drive!  All twisty and curvy and up and down and around.  Definitely a driving enthusiast's road.  (And, of course, I love driving.  A good driving road is one of my favorite pleasures in life.)  Yeah, it's only a two-lane, so every once in a while you get stuck behind a slow truck or something, but there's plenty of places to pass.  And getting to overtake someone every once in a while just makes it that much more exciting and fun to drive!  And when you can't pass, well, it just forces you to slow down and relax and enjoy the ride (not to mention the view).

Aaand... because all of that wasn't good enough - turns out I get a lot better gas mileage on this road.  So it's actually saving me money, too!

I mean, it's like a dream-come-true!  It's more fun, less expensive, takes about the same amount of time, and rather than being an exercise in frustration and aggravation and aggression and terror and psycho-drivers and gridlock and exhaust fumes and assholes talking on cell phones and not paying attention to what they're doing and why don't you hang the fuck up and drive you stupid motherfucking piece of shit!!...  Instead I get what amounts to a driving meditation to begin and end my day.

I am trying not to grieve too hard for the decade I wasted on that asphalt Styx we call I-270.  I am instead trying to concentrate on how grateful I am to have found this oasis of a commute at all, ever.  How lucky I am, to never have to feel that stress and pain again.

The sight of rolling green hills, the purr of my engine as I round another bend, and the smell of cherry blossoms are making that pretty easy for me right now, I must say.