Disorder

Yesterday I tidied the kitchen, and made a commitment to keep it tidy for a  month. I expected when I woke up this morning that my mind would reflect the calm that a tidy room is supposed to bring.  But for the most part I stood with a dull inner chaos.
  This is why I avoid tidying. Because when you tidy, it's harder to avoid the dirt.  It's harder to avoid the grime in my kitchen.  It's harder to avoid the grime in my life.  The violent TV dramas I'm addicted to. The trivial internet information I consume all day.  And the dullness that all that brings to my brain.
  And then beneath all those problems is the problem that created the whole mess in the first place. The despair.   A chaotic environment creates despair, which in turn allows chaos to build, which cements despair.
  To tidy my home is to put myself face to face with the despair that has haunted me all my life.  The same despair that will haunt my son if I don't make significant changes in my life.
  In programming there is a practice called divide and conquer. If you can divide a problem down to its smallest components it is easier to solve.  Dividing big problems into small ones is a way of overcoming despair. But what about the raw feeling of despair itself?  If it permeates life and colours everything, how to deal with that?
  And should we?  Are feelings "problems" and should they be dealt with as problems?
  Interestingly, despair is the main feeling I'm trying to express in the section of the chapter I'm working on in my book. At the end of the second chapter I'm confronted with all the stumbling blocks of becoming a programmer in a world where it's become dominated by young men. And then the stumbling blocks of learning object oriented program.  The difficulty of wrapping my mind around lists of lists.
  Looking at that arc though, I see that despair is an inevitable feeling on the path to taking on a learning challenge. Without those moments of despair what you're confronted with isn't very challenging or risky. There would be no story, would there?  Or it wouldn't be a very interesting story. So in that context, despair can be a healthy signal that growth is happening, not always a sign that I'm taking on more than I can chew.
  Let's just make sure that despair is not my home.  Just a place I visit from time to time on my journey.
 

Dawn

Woke up late this morning. Somehow my alarm had been turned off. But my eyes opened and I could see the golden light and lavender sky of dawn from my window. Got out of bed just in time to see the golden window. A few minutes into my meditation the sun was up and the window had turned silver.

Yesterday in the afternoon I felt overwhelmed, tired, lost faith in myself. I lay down and simply imagined myself cradled in this golden light. Later in the day I read Ricard's book and he suggested an exercise. Imagine that you are taking in somebody's suffering, sucking it into your heart and then re-transmitting it as a healing energy.

Dawn is becoming that for me. A light that transforms me in the morning and a light that I want to pass on to others.