Since clearly entering the bodhisattva path this spring, I have been delighted to have proof of what a core of unshakable happiness really looks an feels like. It is something which, when I really think on it, will frequently move me to tears. Or cause me to look like a total crazy person, sitting in meditation with a giant smile on my face! I am inexpressibly thankful for this strength.
Unfortunately however, what no one really tells you about awareness and the path to buddhahood, is that once you set off on it, there is no going back, no matter how much it hurts and you want to. Once light has been shown on the truth, it seems to take on a bioluminescent quality all of it's own. Another reality no one tells you is how much (excuse me, but...) shit is going to be thrown at you, to try and trip you up. Every negative thought, emotion, desire, and experience of your entire life seems to decide that now is the ideal time to come out of the woodwork. Our fundamental darkness, for fear of being eliminated will fight back. It's worth it, but prepare yourself.
Frankly, I'm exhausted.
Most of the time this kind of spiritual work is done in a monastery, not in the real world with real pressures adding to it. There is an obvious reason for this, which is that it is really really really really really hard!
I have recently been practicing being a master of forgiveness. Though it is not quite the feat one might assume it is, it is a lesson challenging me.
One specific issue I'm dealing with is being faced with people who's behavior created such pain, and who's presence continues to spark it. While at the same time trying to create loving-kindness and whole heartedly forgive them.
Never liking to give in to the fear, and wanting to promote my own healing, ability to love, and forgive, I haven't shy-ed away from these stinging situations when they have presented themselves recently. Rather I am trying to find comfort and joy in their presence, even though such connection does not exist in the manner part of me wishes it did.
One such situation occurred this morning, and my strength eventually gave into the grief and sadness of it. I am so thankful that I was able to turn to my practice to help. I found myself sitting in the lower shrine room at the Boulder Shambhala Center (not my normal practice, but sometimes you need to be in public and my own sangha doesn't have a center in Boulder yet), crippled in child's pose in front of the alter as the sadness swept through me, fighting back sobs (as a result, I have certainly become a master of the cliche crying a single tear recently). Like all emotion, by not fighting it, grief quickly possessed my being and moved on. I was left with the desire to essentially emotionally vomit all over the person in question. Not out of unkindness, but to be open, honest, genuine and connect. Not to hide a single part of me, and somehow hoping that maybe all this vulnerability would fix everything. All thoughts born from a wounded ego and love of the status quo.
Through my practice, I have been fortunate enough to learn how to watch these thoughts without automatically claiming them as my own. After about five minutes, I realized the selfishness in what I wanted to do, that it was purging not sharing and could not create what I want.
Real power, grace and control comes from that quiet place, of realizing that I don't need to force grand vulnerability to achieve desires. If genuine intimacy was possible in this situation, it would exist already. My power comes from me, my big buddhaheart and is expressed most simply, without needing to be confirmed by an Other.
Not a bad afternoon of meditation.
So Much Love,
Janey
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