Cargo: Baggage Handling

Caught on rage,
Mind goes spinning,
But at least
I noticed it today.
For yesterday,
When some bad news
Tripped this bout of ire,
I overlooked the cues
And behaved foolishly.

This pm, I got high on concentration,
And then saw what that was for:
It covered over a bonfire so large
That when I peeked beneath the carpet,
I was pulled under and into the flames.

All the fires are lit again today,
They burn so hotly
They block out the sun.
No friendliness here,
But only aversion
To perceived threats.

Tension and hate:
No charity resides
In this precinct;
No kindness, no wisdom neither
Penetrates this inferno
Of loathing and disgust;
Common sense goes bust
In the face of this vengeful lust,
This vindictive pattern.

But this is where wisdom comes in:
I can see the pattern,
And that’s the beginning
Of it’s end.
If calmly, I can meet this blaze
I can defeat it, again and again,
Until it’s gone for good.

Careless: Mind All Over the Place

I woke up feeling stressed about all I need to do, and having lots of diffuse aches and pains. I’ve been waking up too early every day lately, and it’s uncanny that every morning at around this time there’s always an ambulance or fire engine, or police siren. And so, the current pattern is that between my body, my mind, and the sirens, I finally give up on sleep, get out of bed, and make a cup of coffee. Then I have trouble deciding what to have for breakfast.

Today, I decided to do a mindfulness exercise and ask what that felt like. I felt tired and irritated that I’ve decided to reduce the strength of my coffee as I’m really attached to this stuff, but it makes me jittery. This seems foolish, given I know it’s a good thing, but it’s become such a ritual. I suppose I shall have to find another one to replace it. What does it do for me? It allows me to procrastinate mostly; so, doing a sitting in the morning strikes me as the most obvious alternative.

But I digress. Back to breakfast. There are two options basically. One is lighter, the other heavier, and it’s a cold day. More procrastination probably, and I suspect, a resistance to getting started. What does this resistance feel like?

And then it occurred to me to do my stretching exercises. More digression? I did them anyway, getting kind of bored towards the end. It’s beginning to look like I don’t want to know what anything feels like today. Oh well, so much for investigating what’s happening now. Maybe I just don’t want to be here. Ah, that’s probably it. Can I investigate that? Or is that too tedious, as well?

(Pauses to check. Sips coffee instead.) Hmm. The coffee tastes better all of a sudden. Earlier it tasted bland. I find it amazing how the same cup of coffee can taste differently on different days, and even the same cup on the same day. Oh, but I forgot, of course it’s never the same, and neither is this collection of sensations, feelings and thoughts, and whatever else that is drinking it, whatever it is. Or, maybe the instant coffee powder just sinks to the bottom; so, there’s more to taste as the water goes down.

It looks like I’m not keen to find out what’s going on here this morning. I guess this is an example of avoiding the present moment, but I suppose I need to get to know that too. What does this feel like? —Unpleasant, certainly.

Meanwhile, aha! –Soft boiled eggs and toast, definitely. Peace at last, at least temporarily!

Careful: Folding Laundry into My Practice

Okay, so I am in this horribly depressed, despondent mood again. This time, I started to zone out, but I decided it would be more interesting to see what goes on; so, I persuaded myself to stick around and see what I could see.

What I saw going on mentally was incredibly boring and trite, which made me understand why I wouldn’t want to stay awake for it. There was something else, however, which was that I spontaneously got up and started folding my laundry, and I could see that somehow this was part of the pattern too, because I didn’t get distracted at all by this activity from what was going on in my mind.

But then, I got distracted by what was going on in my mind, and began feeding the negative thoughts, although I was sufficiently aware to not get caught up in the thoughts themselves. Then I noticed this, stopped feeding the thoughts, and the laundry folding resumed until it was done.

In spite of the down mood, there was this restlessness, this refusal to give up, underneath which I found a stubborn optimism that just won’t lay down, and sometimes seems to result in unrealistic expectations. What am I to do with this perfectionism?

There’s so much to do, and yet there’s nothing to do. There’s nothing that can be done, and yet everything that can be done is being done already, because everything is working perfectly already, just as it is. The mind insists that something must be done until everything is perfect, and yet everything is unfolding just exactly the way it’s supposed to. The mind never gives up trying to fix things; so, we have to give it meaningful work to do, such as meditation, mindfulness, careful attention and kindness in all our activities. On the other hand, folding laundry can be pretty good too! LOL.

If I put forth my best effort in whatever I do, and believe that, all things considered, I am putting forth my best effort, then the mind will be satisfied with everything I do, and everything will indeed proceed perfectly, regardless of the results. Perhaps this is the reason that the intentions behind our actions are emphasized in Buddhism—this tendency of mind to want to do the right thing, always. Tall order, huh? (Pauses to fold another load.)

Jack Kornfield wrote a book called, After the Ecstasy, the Laundry. My conclusion: sometimes the laundry is the ecstasy.