hmmmmmmmmm.......: forgive

Thursday, August 06, 2009

forgive

forgiveAfter a long hiatus, listening to my Buddhist teaching recordings. In the car they make me go to sleep, but while walking I have no such excuse.

"How we usually proceed is like heaping suffering on top of suffering." ~Pema Chödrön


They say what we practice is what we get better at. What have I been practicing?

Selfishness. Self-loathing.

I am eager to give up the self-loathing. It destroys everything. I compulsively destroy what I want, what I love. I make it impossible for others to allow what I enjoy.

So. Self-loathing. Bad. Kill it.

But selfishness? I've been enjoying selfishness, haven't I? I grasp it to my heart, curling over it like a dog over a bone, growling; like a child over a toy when threatened with sharing. I love my selfishness. It has brought me untold joys. Hasn't it?

Reluctantly I have to see a glimmer of truth: selfishness and self-loathing are the same thing, aren't they. Grabbing, grasping, not thinking, not caring. That's how I destroy. That's how I lose what I love.

"If you can just make a little pinpoint in the narrowness of your heart and mind, by doing [compassion] practices, you can really trust that you can begin to go from frozen to begin to melt...of its own accord...But if you don't want it to happen, it won't." ~Pema Chödrön


Not yet exactly wanting it to happen. Maybe having a glimmer of possibly thinking about wanting to maybe want it to happen.

Dimly I remember what it felt like when I did these practices every day. Open and fresh. Or is that my imagination? Just a few moments perhaps? Amid a bleakness?

Part of me feels like letting go is a loss. A terrible loss. Must clutch. Must grasp. Must scramble to hold on. Must curl around what's left like a dog, like a child.

Part of me struggles to remember what it was like to practice regularly and feel clearer. Buddhist paintings arise in my mind: the people burning in the hell of their own minds; meditators among peaceful clouds.

I don't even know what's in my heart anymore. I don't even know all my feelings. Sadness, anger, I guess. It's a hard lump, compacted. Like a piece of dog shit after the dog's been constipated. What a terrible image for one's own heart and mind...

I think before I go any further... I need to sort this out... try to calm my own mind first. So that as I gingerly try to rebuild, I don't end up destroying everything again, don't hurt everyone around me again.

1 comment:

miriam said...

Not your imagination. But also doesn't have to be your aspiration to "be like that again." Your thirst to curtail suffering is enough, can be enough. You rock.

Love you!