09:41. Trying to decide which to write about: the big family gathering I went to yesterday and thoroughly enjoyed without alcohol, or my obsessive-compulsive and anxious and worry-wort tendencies. Or the 10-minute meditation I had this morning, about five seconds of which were successful.
I have about 20 minutes before I’m back on duty for constant meal prep, cleanup and socializing again alongside my incredible-to-me-seeming husband (without whom I would not be able to take this time). I’ll try to tackle each in a two sentence paragraph.
Yesterday: The JOY of talking to a couple amazing people I have not seen in years, and one new one I have never before, and being able to concentrate completely, falling deeply into the conversation, without agonizing over the deeper desire to refill my empty glass. I had no glass. In a word: freedom.
OCO tendencies: My at-times-darling husband calls my issues Obsessive Compulsive Orderliness, instead of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. This is a hard one to talk about, because I’m revealing a part of myself that is deeply embarrassing, because I’m ashamed of it. It reveals my deepest insecurities, egotistical and selfish tendencies. But if I look at it in a positive light, as my husband sometimes does, it also reveals a deep caring for everyone and everything. Flip sides of the proverbial coin.
Running out of time. And failed at two-sentence paragraphs. I suppose I will have to further elaborate later. Or learn to better practice minimalism.
Five-second success in meditation:
Sitting on wooden coffee table outside. Uncomfortable but at least flat and dry. Remembering my Sister, my Mother at the monastery, confiding to me that learning to sleep on a wooden board was hard at first. “But do you *really* sleep on wooden boards?” I asked her. “Yes,” she said.
She was such a friend to me in that moment, that five-minute talk we had. So human.
I remembered her words, felt the discomfort in my half-lotus, and fell into it, “noticing my suffering,” “without judgement.” My irritation at not being able to concentrate. At only worrying about the duties to come in this day.
Then I remembered to notice my breath. I had two breaths, in which I noticed that I was alive, an organism, like the young oak tree not far in front of me. I noticed a single leaf on that oak, the lobes of the leaf, the thin twiggy branch it was on.
I noticed that some leaves beside it, having already ripened, were growing thin and dry and light and ready to fall off, to eventually nourish the ground in their death.
I noticed that there were tiny nubs along the bare parts of the branch, hints of new life that may shoot forth.
Then I thought about writing that down, and the moment fell away. Like a dry, aged leaf. Which I spent the rest of my attempted-but-failed meditation silently mourning.
Mostly thinking of you. Hope you are well.
I am 13 minutes late… and grateful. Gosh I’m grateful for my life right now. Thanks to every kind and generous and forgiving person in it.
love, xo n/stl