Eternal Sunshine of a (not quite) Spotless Mind

My friend and life coach Jane Ellen Sexton once said to me that she believed that everything we do can be clearing. At the time, I didn't really understand what she meant by that but I think I get it now, and I very much like the idea.

Since April, I have for the first time in life felt that the action arc in my daily-ness could warrant a good cinematic reproduction later on (or at least a mediocre student film). This has been a rather drastic change for me as most of the previous 'events' along my path have been subtle, internal ones, often completely unobservable to the outsider. In the last three months, the change I have felt in myself both internally and externally has been distinct. There have been so many revolutionary occurrences, climaxing with an experience of kundalini shakti, a journey, a rather painful first shattering of tangibly existent love, and a realization of entering my bodhisattvahood all over about two weeks.

I think we underestimate how sad it is to end a relationship that was once directed towards love. The first week after, I was walking around with a boy-shaped impression in my energy. Jane Ellen helped me smooth it out during meditation and replenish what was lost in the initial shock of detaching (she's like spiritual Gatorade!). I have thankfully, been able to handle it with grace since then, but can't claim that I was over it in 48 hours.

Last night, I dreamed a lot. Not only that, but I remembered them which almost never happens these days. In my dream, I rehearsed what I would do and say if I saw him. In thinking of that I had a milestone when I woke up. I realized that I cannot remember him anymore. Sure, I can remember the facts of it all, I still know what he looks like. But when I try to recall what I felt like as his girlfriend, I can't. I can't will his voice to echo in my eardrums. I don't remember really what it was like to kiss him, or be held by him, to hold his hand, or what he looked like up close. Everything is very faint and fuzzy or else surprisingly blank. This bothered me for a little while. I felt a little like Dori, the fish from Finding Nemo, who when she loses Nemo gets upset, but then can't remember what she is upset about as she's crying.

I find comfort and a way to step forward in the Buddha-Dharma.

I found myself reflecting on a film I once saw on death practices in a Pureland Buddhist monastic community in China. What was fascinating about it was the length of the rituals. From the time the monk died to the time the nuns went through his ashes to find relics of enlightenment was well over a month of actively and ritualistically morning. So much of it was on a strict time scale because of their belief that it takes much longer for someone to leave their body and move on to the next life than just the moment their heart stops breathing. There are a few days at the end of cremation when people would stand guard at the stupa, and look for this monks spirit to be taken away by Amida, hoping they could see visions of him in the full glory of his Buddhahood.


Though my heart has not moved on into its next incarnation, I feel like it ready to do so. Since last night, it has shed the relics of this love and of him, leaving them to sparkle in the ashes as reminders of my strength and grace, and of the buddha nature that we all possess. And, at the same time allowing me to completely forgive any grievances or regret I have been holding on to.

Some day soon, I might examine all the relics, or I might not. But any discoveries I promise to relate.

may you love with a lion's heart,
janey