there is much to love about this retreat.
something that keeps returning is the teaching about rice
“it’s all rice. you can eat all of it.”
meaning that no matter what occurs, no matter what comes up, it’s all food for practice.
i get to watch
with as much kindness as possible
(and i get to watch when there’s the opposite of kindness, too)
no matter what is going on or coming up or unfolding.
all of the weathers.
take the person i mentioned before leaving
someone i met last year
where the feeling of love arises in me
so, i get to watch all of the stories
the multitude of ways i try to control in my mind…
there’s the t.v. channel of future – drama edition (lots of twists and turns)
the t.v. channel of future – comedy edition (wacky mishaps & mayhem)
the t.v. channel of future – romance edition (yeah, baby)
and then, if i’m paying attention, i get to drop the story.
just like that.
this mind – holy crap it’s busy.
one day while washing the dishes
i saw that even the stories i tell myself, the ones where “i don’t get what i want”, you know, the tragedies (full of sadness & disappointment)
even those are a sort of attempt to control an outcome –
(not to mention missing each moment with the pot…)
this mind telling stories is an attempt at trying to control my feelings
which, for whatever reason, i try to manage or avoid, as much as possible.
it’s such an old habit
(stuff a dragon in a small box, anyone?)
the thing is
turns out, i’ve just come to know that i don’t really want to control the outcome of things.
my view is limited.
and omigosh it would be boring.
my stories are so predictable now.
like some tragic sitcom writer in a rut.
an image came
of two great gods
napping in some gorgeous sky-meadow
and here on earth, squeaking my little story (whichever edition…)
one of them snorts, still half-asleep
“did you hear something?”
the other, rolling over, and letting out a fart
“naaaah, go back to sleep”