I suppose it's the Buddhist practice that's led me into this sadness, that's what happens when you still the mind, you find out what all that business was attempting to hide. So don't meditate, unless you are hoping to achieve a greater intimacy with your own unpredictable terrain studded with the things that scare you most, the scary things that drive us to control reality with heavy, sloppy, dividing hands.
The fear of loss I connect with a dream I had long ago in which I was near an Egyptian landmark and suddenly shot and killed. I found myself dying in a desert, filled with the grief over all the wonderful things I'd be leaving behind. As I died I rose up and saw the Sphinx. Too strange to wake up the next morning and hear about the Luxor massacre which had occurred while I slept. A total of 59 Swiss Japanese, British, German, French, Bulgarian and Colombian tourists were killed on the day in 1997 as well as 4 Egyptians. I felt I'd been there, been killed, grieved, and moved on. Why, I can' say, but it was good preparation for death. And I have to admit I haven't been able to go near that feeling of grief over loss without feeling paralyzed and motivated to avoid it. So I guess now's the time.
But today, in spite of all this darkness, the sun was shining on the poppies, and as my still grieving heart was draped in the song of the sun, I am reminded again that paradox is as light as air, as if it were the same substance that upholds gliding wings. So I leave you with an apology for dredging up all this crap in your presence, and a view of the poppy, which I think you might find more appealing than my navel with all its sinister lint.
2 comments:
Nice post. Very brave. You are not alone.
My family crest has Lint Sinister flummoxing a field of imperfect notions.
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