Awareness, word of the year

This week I've looped back to my root practice, open awareness.

It is a practice much improved because my environment is more open, less cluttered and distracting. I'm able now to experience my mind as a clear and open space. Within this space the emotional intensity and chaos I grew up in is more visible, as is the pull of ordinary messy awareness. In a cleaner environment I can work to loosen the knots of that.

I sit. I listen to the sounds around me, the traffic, the occasional siren, the night before last, a violent fight between my upstairs neighbours. In that case disturbing memories surfaced, but they don't stick because I'm in a different place. My space is safe from violence and aggression, and I have created a place for  my child that is free of that, directly at least.  There may always be that in the world around him and in the world he's immersed himself in for now, the play violence of his video games. But I haven't inflicted it on him and for that I can feel some relief.

This is the focus of the week, relief. The reward of the habits that have spared me from a bad marriage, abject poverty, squalor, ignorance. That have made it possible for me to produce nurturing things, this journal, educational materials and opportunities for others, and a book that I hope will bring enjoyment, inspiration and knowledge to others.

This relief from intensity, from the feeling of being stuck, from the cumulative dullness of bad habits. This is the reward that moment by moment will change my life.

Looking over past posts on open awareness, I am reminded of a ritual I started a couple of years ago, picking a word for the year, the first time I did this it was abundance, the next year emptiness. This year I've decided to pick awareness. I dedicate this year to keeping this thread of awareness strong and present through all my habits, intentions, and achievements.

Safety

I don't feel safe.

This is what my backbone told me last night. My apartment is radically cleaner than it's been for a long time, but the downside of this is that now I can more clearly see all the things I've been avoiding. Those things that I've been neglecting beneath the outer chaos. The deepest of them all is the fundamental feeling of safety.

I'm not sure I even know what if feels like to feel truly and deeply safe. Or if I even can, or should believe that safety is possible. But how can I possibly build a life for myself, or help Ben build a life for himself if I don't even believe in the priority of safety?

There are actions I can take to build this safety, but if I don't spend some time building the feeling I aspire to it's unlikely that I'm going to make those actions routine.

So for this month, this is the emotional and spiritual goal: to know what it is, what it really is, to feel safe.

The power of yuck

Read an article today in New York Times on "superagers" , people who remain sharp and vital well into their 80s.  Given the history of longevity in my family, I should probably start readying myself for this.

The secret is apparently a willingness to push oneself both physically and mentally.  Strolls and suduko are not enough. One has to be willing to hit the "yuck" point with regularity.  I'm guaranteed a fair amount of yuck with the goal I have set for myself this year, finishing the manuscript of my book, with or without a publisher's advance.

I do not want to do the work that this is going to involve. Nor do I want to run a faster half marathon. Or clean out all the paper clutter in my home. But I care about that 90 year old woman in my future and she cares about me. She has memoirs to write and a rich creative life to enjoy. So I'm willing to hit that threshold for her.

She's worth it.