I used to think that the goal of meditation was to control this mind that monkeys around chasing story lines like butterflies. But these days my practice is more like the interplay between pure awareness and monkey. The trick as always is to differentiate between natural suffering and the suffering that is created by attachment to suffering.
Today I started my meditation with a back to basics plan. First twenty minutes watching the breath, second twenty minutes delighting in basic goodness. Towards the half hour point a story line took root, some righteous anger I felt yesterday at a security guard at the metro who wouldn't let Ben and I pass after we lost our return tickets for the Montreal Marathon. All runners are given free tickets on race day. I discovered just as we were starting the 10K that we didn't have our tickets, but I figured they'd let us through with the other runners taking the metro home from the finish point. They didn't. The security guard suggested we beg other runners for tickets or money.
I guess I didn't have the moral energy to face begging. In the end we ran home another 10k and turned it into a story about how we unofficially ran a half marathon. But I felt compelled last night to write a letter of complaint.
At the root of this story is probably my financial concerns. I'm going to have to beg my parents for money to make ends meet while I finish yet one more revision of my proposal. This situation with the security guard touches that part of me that know I don't have any emergency money for us in times of crisis. I don't even have enough money for us for basic living.
At the same time I can't help noticing that my anxiety just doesn't seem to have the roots it used to. I'd like to think it's because I'm healthier and not because I've become better at denial. I certainly feel healthier.
Still, I'm conscious of how important it is to sit every evening with that vulnerability and shame, and detach from the temptation to numb it with television, avoid it with bickering, and distract it with pleasures. These difficult emotions are the energy that creativity runs on. Without their companionship, I'm unlikely to ever have a real habit of peace and joy.
