Dear Kathy -
Thank you so much for that. I know all too often it doesn't sound like I'm coming from the heart, but I am in my way. I just don't do so much of the hearts and flowers sort of stuff - although I have in fact embarrassed myself in that area in one member's blog of late.
What made your response so wonderful is that it was spoken from a point of true authenticity. Which is great.
And while it may come across that way, my more technical postings, at least these days, are meant to be a genuine response to something someone has said. As a result, I'm not starting a lot of threads anymore. Whereas, years back, I started threads often, frequently on what appeared to be the latest medical advance, until it came to the point that I had to admit that every time I reread one key article I was totally revising my understanding of it, to the point that it took me weeks to figure out that the key concept that was eluding me was the same one that caused me to double-incomplete a 5-level linear algebra class in college, c. 1978. That said, one of my early "best selling" threads (maybe 2,000 hits either here or more likely on the old BT) began with a holds no barred post under "
RSD and marriage." So at least lately I really try to make a point of staying with what I believe I really understand, whether in the head or the heart. But when I do, I have no hesitation in trying to drive home hard truths, even to the viscera, with the understanding that we speak from the heart only when we speak from truth, however uncomfortable that may be. But that's just my style.
It's funny, before I turned on the computer this afternoon, I had been out with one of my sons, and while I was waiting for him I was thinking of what might be your take on my note. Then it hit me. There was something else that I could have included in the post, part of an email I got the other day from my MBSR teacher, to whom I was introduced a year into this sleigh ride, in response to a recent cry out on my part. Having now read your response, it feels perfect:
It seems that we are getting to an age where people around us (including ourselves) are getting sick and some are dying. It's a tuff one. We all know it happens and get it on many levels.... but still it is a sad loss.
These things bring up lots of emotion and for most it is pretty difficult to talk about it, no less understand oneself. After reading what you wrote to me, this is what came to mind...
I think because death, sickness, our mortality is all so confusing to most (including me... who actually has some understanding.) Maybe one way to deal with this is to really pay close attention to our own reactions. Doing this by paying attention to our body sensations, thoughts and moods(emotions/feelings.) But doing this, not just in formal meditation, but more frequently during our daily living... Paying attention to our speech, (content and quality of voice) listening to our attachment to our ideas and witness how they color how we experience ourselves and others. And doing this as much as we can in the here and now. Remember to check in with the body, notice our clenching (the grasping and pushing away) Asking how are we deluding ourselves? Ultimately... Pausing and asking what is true here and doing this in a very kind way. What I mean by this is not to analyze but to just notice what is arising, no matter pleasant or unpleasant, like or dislike. Just noticing and experience, how it is in the moment, as conditions arise and pass away. This journey we are on is really simple... waking up and seeing what is true. Experiencing what it is to be human. So really experiencing life moment by moment (obviously easier said than done.) I think this is the best thing any of us can do for ourselves and for our children. This journey is an inside job. And the more we continue persevering on this path, true wisdom and compassion shows itself to ourselves and others. So, each time we open to this moment, freedom is possible. Side note... if this is too much for Sunday morning... please forgive me. (loving smile . . . .
Mike