”True spirituality is a mental attitude you can practice at any time.” Dalai Lama
I really wasn’t sure whether to write this story, because it is a bit of a departure from the usual. Sure, all of these are personal, but I have been careful to avoid the confessional. My problems remain mine. I simply look to share and this is certainly not the format for resolution anyway.
The above paragraph has been sitting absolutely still for the last day or so, because I am not sure about it. The words I choose for this story have a huge bearing on how it is perceived. Now, there is a bit of genius!
Subjects like insomnia and anxiety are real crowd pleasers. I have been visited on and off by these two jewels for at least the past year. Plug in eight decades and there has been plenty of time for them to find a home. Now, here is something I can actually think about, while the majority of you are probably chronologically advantaged, making my concern irrelevant for you. For me, ripening on the vine physically, with the inevitable malfunctions, has always been the concern with aging, the body and not the mind, until recently.
Anxiety is like kerosene, flowing through a wild fire in a hurricane. It has no logic and feeds on fear. It leaves invisible finger prints, making it very difficult to figure out what was clutching my throat. Imagine you lie down for sleep and promptly leap out of bed every couple of minutes, so many times, you lose count. I am guessing at least thirty. The clock stops. Thoughts of hospitalization cripple your mind. When daylight comes, those emotions fade, primarily cause you want to forget them anyway.
In a way, this is a showdown that was inevitable. All the writing I have been doing has taken me deeper inside myself. Plus, I’m a sensitive guy, but don’t tell anyone else. This is about distortion and the complete suspension of any logic or reason.
Now, the reason why I chose to share this is because of an experience I had directly connected with it and it really threw me. There have been a handful of times in my life when things have occurred that I firmly believe were orchestrated by powers beyond my control. It is like a perfect coincidence that rattles your brain and vice grips your attention.
I recently had a session with a Hawaiian healer, which was one of those perfect accidents I was just referring to. I have been dealing with current challenges conventionally, working with my Doc to create a medical pathway out of this detour and he has been great. Something about all this was bothering me, like a puzzle with a missing piece.
So, here I am, wrestling with the wind. I now have a writing assignment to talk with a Native Hawaiian cultural practitioner, doing fabulous work in the community. The instant we met, I knew I had to have a session with him, having no idea what that even meant. For a moment, my internal turmoil came to a halt, realizing there was more to this than I thought.
Well, we had our session and I am not about to describe it. Beyond a general conversation and a deeply personal ritual, his only observation was that I felt separate from my spirit. It hit me hard, feeling the distance as he said it. It was also when I decided to write this story, otherwise there was no way I could go to those places up above. I am still feeling it, so this is still quite contemporary.
You know, it’s funny. After he said that, I realized I have never considered myself a spiritual person and I am, of course I am. Yes, my life has been a spiritual journey, but it was still shocking to hear. You are never alone on this journey and I think I started forgetting it, especially at night. I was very anxious to write to you about spirit, because you never hear about it much. Who the hell is going to write to you about being spiritual? I certainly have no authority, but that’s never stopped me.
I started thinking I had very slowly drifted away from my spiritual core. Now, before you ask me what that means, I really don’t know. Trying to talk to you about something I can’t define is pretty dumb, even for me. I know I have written before, trying to explain some of the sensations in my awful Zen practice and I just can’t find the words. You know, not everything you feel can be easily explained and sometimes they are simply justified by their existence.
I instantly understood the healer’s comment. I think when you sleep is when the spirit can breathe and the greater the distance it has to travel, the harder the internal journey and the louder the static.
Now, I want to be careful and not misunderstood. I have not written any of this, because I have figured out the meaning of life. It feels like I am in the middle of all this, but, ever so slightly a little lighter. As someone, who clearly has a writing thing, finding the words is a sign of internal life.
Some of you might read this and find it upsetting, which is certainly not my intention. I am simply sharing where I am at and not looking for anything. Maybe, there are parts of this that speak to you and sometimes just having company is comforting.
Thanks for listening.
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