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.
