A PRACTICE

It’s 4 o’clock in the afternoon. It’s hot out at 32℃. I’m cranky. It’s not a good time to start anything but here I am doing it anyways. If I wait for an optimal time, I would not get anything done. Yesterday I harvested herbs (basil, oragano and thyme) to dry at high noon when it was the hottest. That and being late August with mature plant growth does not make for the best harvest to dry either. But it is the time when I’m moved to do it. And that makes it the best time for me.

Right now, in my grouchy sweaty mood, I’m moved to start a daily practice of writing – again. I’m inspired by Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones. When inspiration and perspiration hit, I must act, if not immediately, soon. I should have started this morning but I had another daily practice of going to the garden(s) and harvesting. It’s hard to juggle everything. I had to choose the best time for each. Morning would be optimal to be working outside on a hot day. I can write afternoons in the cool of the house.

So why am I torturing myself this way? For one thing, I do love words and writing. It has been my way of staying sane, sorting out the chaos in my head. It is a physical act as well as mental. It is stress relieving. The rhythmic tapping soothes and smooths the kinks in my mind. It is also good discipline. I’m heeding Goldberg’s advice of not overthinking, over editing, censoring. I will let it all out – within reason and good taste, of course. This is another first day of the rest of my life.

LANGUISHING WITH SHEBA

I don’t know what it is, but it seems like all my best laid plans have gone awry. My natural response has always been: I have to fix it! I have to fix it! I’m that mouse running on the wheel, getting dizzy, going nowhere. I’ve finally fell off. Not going to do the same any more. I’m not giving in or throwing up my hands in defeat. I just like to do something else. I want to get off the well beaten path. It’s hard to do. I know how tempting and comforting the old familiar is. But I’ll give it a good old try.

I’m sitting in my pjs and housecoat, basking in November’s weak tepid sunshine. It still brings my discouraged heart up a notch and a weak smile to my lips. I don’t have much to say but I like to feel the keys beneath my fingertips. It’s comforting to hear and feel the tap, tap, tap. I like to watch the black letters and words march across the page. It warms me from the inside out, much like watching Sheba languishing on her pillow last night. She has a face that makes my heart smile. I sit and let all these comforting feelings come into me. I rest in their comfort, remembering their essence.

There really is nothing that I must do. There is nothing to fix. Everything is as it should be. I have this time to linger and languish in my sunfilled room. Let nothing enter to cloud and clutter my mind. Let them all float by, the thoughts and the feelings, like clouds in the sky. I’ve been in sitting meditation with Mark Williams every morning now for months. Some of it is taking hold. Now I am able to sit in silence, with self guidance for 20 minutes. Some days are better than others. That is why it is call a practice. It is something I must do more of.