Self

Last week in my Joy of Living practice I meditated on my sense of self. I noticed how much it changed depending on what I was doing, how I was being.  How my sense of self felt strong and wise when I'm sitting with a belly full of chi. How I felt powerless and vulnerable after a fight with my son. How I felt competent  after completing a cleaning ritual.  How I felt protected by the routines I've established with Ben to get things back on track after an argument has signaled to us that something has unravelled.
  Each self feels like a different person almost.  Each self doesn't last, though these selves return like breath. Each self is a reminder that there is not unified permanent self that I can hate, or take pride in.
  I returned to a practice that I haven't done for a while, loving the self that keeps me on track. Taking time to thank that self that gets me out running, reminds me to do the things I don't always feel like doing, but that as a whole make me feel safe, well and strong for others.
  Next month I am meditating on time.  I remember from my course this summer that the combination of selflessness and timelessness will bring that transformative feeling of no agency.  That place where I am watching life as though it has the energy of a darting fish.  As I sit with this transformative energy, I have no idea what direction my life will take.  And I more often than not like that feeling. It's the adventure of being still.

Transformation

This week when I hear that persistent question what do I want more than anything in the world the answer is automatic: love.
  Maybe as a result of this answer I've been re-establishing connections with old, and important friends. By mistake I ended up at Maggie's place on Friday, thinking she had a party.  Ended up going out for Indian dinner, and now I'm back in the loop. Invited to Taco Tuesdays, which I can't afford right now.  But it's nice to know that I can go.
  Then yesterday I went to my first Tergar mini-retreat since JOY3.  It was lovely.  I feel clearer, stronger, and Minjur re-affirmed something I've been feeling for a while. This energy that I'm feeling in my navel is an energy of transformation.
  All of these communities, for me, are supports for love.  People I can love.  People who will love me.  I can build stability around this love.
 It's not that love is dependent on externals.  It's that love is interdependent, the play between the internal and the external.

Interdependence of Thought

This week in my meditation practice I've been exploring interdependence of thought. I'm still not entirely sure sometimes what is meant by the term "interdependence."  But this week I took it to mean the way my thoughts depend on different aspects of being, the way they depend on my body, on how strongly attached I am to concepts like the present, the past, the future, the self.
  I paid special attention to strong, recurring, persistent thoughts, what these were dependent upon, and how I might be able to loosen them.
  The first path that I started to explore is how dependent the quality and tone of my thought is on how embodied I am.  If I'm having an anxious or negative though, it's almost guaranteed that my limbs are stiff, my hands tense, my neck out of alignment, my breath shallow. If my thoughts are wandering it is absolutely guaranteed that my eyes are not focused on anything.  Formal meditation is a way of correcting this. Informal meditation is a way of re calibrating throughout the day. A way of stopping my thoughts from their habitual chaos.
  My thoughts by the way are quite dependent on my environment, and that seems to be changing. I'm a better housekeeper this month, in large part because I'm practising some habits of commitment. Making sure my life is driven by decisions, not impulses. I've been keeping with my housekeeping rituals and everyday I'm feeling a different energy in this home. It's still messy, but deep down it's cleaner, more organized, less overwhelming. As a result of sticking to these commitments, I'm cultivating self-trust.
  The two persistent thoughts I've been meditating, is this recurring mantra of "I hate myself" and "What do I want more than anything in the world."  The super ego and the id.  One way I've been dealing with the first is with tonglen, and a Pema Chodron trick I discovered.  I breathe in that hatred, feel a space for it in my body and in my belly.  Let it expand, let that blocked, stiff energy flow.  I need to be patient.  I was raised in an environment of chronic and constant hatred and hostility between my parents. These memories are deep in my body, in my nervous system.  They aren't about to evaporate in one breath or six.  But I can say at the end of this week that I do feel a little better. As though the space I'm creating in acknowledging and accepting this hatred, will one day be filled more easily with love.
  Which brings me to the second thought.  This week I sat silently with this question and waited patiently for an answer, instead of my usual tendency to want to rush in with a whole bunch of answers.  Finally it came to me, so obvious, so inevitable.  Love.  I want love. There is an answer to this question, and that is it.
  My body, my life, my son's life, so much dependent on that answer, that thought.
  What kind of persistent thoughts could arise if I knew better how to love.