Mortality

It's been difficult to keep up with my meditation.  Time runs away from me and I soon find that it is very late and well past time for me to go to sleep, so I don't do it.  Or I am too angry, or depressed, to make the effort.  Or the noise level in my house is such that concentration will be impossible.

None of these are good excuses, though.  Not really.  Meditating will help me slow my mind in preparation for bed.  One of the times it is most critical for me to meditate is when I am upset.  And as for noise, there is nothing I can do about it without poisoning the atmosphere within my family, and so it will be a practice in placid acceptance of that which is beyond my control -- an important lesson, to be sure.

Last night I was, as I often am these days, feeling frustrated and angry as night approached.  It was also past my bedtime, but I resolved to meditate anyway.  I tried again a "focus" that I have used a couple of other times in the past: I concentrated on exhaling "darkness," imagining air stained black with anger and pain coming rushing out of my nostrils and then dissipating to harmless nothingness, allowing me to breathe in air that was refreshing, cleansing, and pure.  In order to properly capture the mental image, this focus requires me to exhale much more strongly than usual, which isn't in and of itself very relaxing.  However, for a number of the exhalations (but not all), I could feel the darkness binding my heart and clogging my chest lifting somewhat, dislodged by the force of my determination.

At the end of my meditation, my mood was improved a bit.  It is worthwhile, then.

Also at the end of my meditation, with head bowed and hands in prayer position at my chest as usual, I endeavored to forgive myself for my foibles.  I think I am harder on myself than anyone in the world could even dream of being, and I no longer wish to see myself that way.  I have my moments and my flaws, but I am unique, loving, and possessing a beautiful spirit.  It was to that spirit that I dedicated my practice last night, and will dedicate my practices in the days to come.

Reading of Elizabeth Edwards' death today has led me to think about that which nearly all of us assiduously ignore: our own mortality.  I wonder if I will be similarly afflicted someday; I do have a very strong history of cancer in my family, unfortunately.  Even before her passing, due to my generalized fear of losing those whom I love, I had been thinking in recent days about the degree to which my life would change if, say, I lost K.  I can only begin to imagine the devastation such an event would create.

To that end, I am grateful today for each moment I am able to spend in the company of my loved ones.  What I have today may be gone tomorrow, so it is imperative that I live with love and appreciation.

Hold on, hold on -- hold on to what you've got.
"Lean On Sheena," by The Bouncing Souls

Namaste.