Musings as the year nears its end -- December 25, 2007
Journal entry this morning, 5am
I am on a particular journey. There is a kind of work I can do during a sesshin (silent retreat -- in this case, I'm thinking of Rohatsu sesshin that happened earlier this month) that is difficult to do under other circumstances. Each sesshin is different, but I'm beginning to see a little of what kind of work I can do there.
There is vast empty space that sustains the journey, underpins it. I don't seem to rest there much. Maybe the work I'm doing doesn't afford time to do that. Maybe I'm just not the resting sort. Yet. My zazen (sitting meditation) is still mentally active -- the mind doesn't know, most of the time, how to rest.
And yet, I trust the journey. At least I'm beginning to trust it. Something or someone guides me.
Someone is emerging from all of this. Who am I becoming?
Someone with a heart more tender and raw. Someone less inclined to control everything around me. Someone with compassion and appreciation for all those damaged component parts, and maybe someone who can put those pieces together. Someone new who is part of the old wreck, along with the beautiful terrible wreck that we call the rest of the world.
I'm beginning to open my eyes and look around. Beginning to think it may be possible to live, really live, after all. Not just to survive, not just to cope, but to live fully, to find that taproot of life that makes it possible to accept everything. It can't be grabbed hold of and manipulated. It can be found, though, and followed. I need to sit quietly, and let it come to me.
And so I sit. Every day. Even today, when I had thought maybe to give myself a break. No. I am awake. I will sit.
I am on a particular journey. There is a kind of work I can do during a sesshin (silent retreat -- in this case, I'm thinking of Rohatsu sesshin that happened earlier this month) that is difficult to do under other circumstances. Each sesshin is different, but I'm beginning to see a little of what kind of work I can do there.
There is vast empty space that sustains the journey, underpins it. I don't seem to rest there much. Maybe the work I'm doing doesn't afford time to do that. Maybe I'm just not the resting sort. Yet. My zazen (sitting meditation) is still mentally active -- the mind doesn't know, most of the time, how to rest.
And yet, I trust the journey. At least I'm beginning to trust it. Something or someone guides me.
Someone is emerging from all of this. Who am I becoming?
Someone with a heart more tender and raw. Someone less inclined to control everything around me. Someone with compassion and appreciation for all those damaged component parts, and maybe someone who can put those pieces together. Someone new who is part of the old wreck, along with the beautiful terrible wreck that we call the rest of the world.
I'm beginning to open my eyes and look around. Beginning to think it may be possible to live, really live, after all. Not just to survive, not just to cope, but to live fully, to find that taproot of life that makes it possible to accept everything. It can't be grabbed hold of and manipulated. It can be found, though, and followed. I need to sit quietly, and let it come to me.
And so I sit. Every day. Even today, when I had thought maybe to give myself a break. No. I am awake. I will sit.
posted by Genko at 10:17 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home