INSIDE, OUTSIDE, UPSIDE DOWN
Several days ago, I had the privilege of talking about meditation with a group of caregivers of people with long-term challenges. People keep saying, "Oh, it is so nice of you to do that."
That is just not how I experienced it.
These people have done very little for themselves for a long time. It's so hard. Several of them expressed guilt for being there instead of home, and I think probably most or all of the rest felt it but kept quiet. There are such strong forces pulling back and forth and up and down. No time to think, and yet you do nothing but think. I know.
This took place as a hurricane came in. There were no immediate travel warnings for the area, but they were imminent. The air was 20 degrees cooler when I got out of the car, as though I had driven through a portal to autumn. Wind and rain was coming, the river outside was going to flood, and we were each worried about getting stuck there, unable to get back to our responsibilities for too long. Something terrible could happen. We all felt it. In my mind's eye, I was in the hurricane's eye, with the wind whipping around me and the water rising around my knees.
But I felt like I was where I was supposed to be, wholly and exactly and deeply, and I said so. I thanked everyone for being there with me, and asked them to look gently and see whether they were where they were supposed to be there, too. I just felt gratitude and comradeship.
I don't think the hurricane feels the wind. It just IS the wind, and it is the eye's calm, both the axis and the turning. Leaves fall without thinking about it. Water flows downward without asking why. This cool air comes into my lungs without questioning what it's going to get out of it. This is an important teaching.
And yet, those things don't feel gratitude, either. Perhaps that, too, is an important teaching.
That is just not how I experienced it.
These people have done very little for themselves for a long time. It's so hard. Several of them expressed guilt for being there instead of home, and I think probably most or all of the rest felt it but kept quiet. There are such strong forces pulling back and forth and up and down. No time to think, and yet you do nothing but think. I know.
This took place as a hurricane came in. There were no immediate travel warnings for the area, but they were imminent. The air was 20 degrees cooler when I got out of the car, as though I had driven through a portal to autumn. Wind and rain was coming, the river outside was going to flood, and we were each worried about getting stuck there, unable to get back to our responsibilities for too long. Something terrible could happen. We all felt it. In my mind's eye, I was in the hurricane's eye, with the wind whipping around me and the water rising around my knees.
But I felt like I was where I was supposed to be, wholly and exactly and deeply, and I said so. I thanked everyone for being there with me, and asked them to look gently and see whether they were where they were supposed to be there, too. I just felt gratitude and comradeship.
I don't think the hurricane feels the wind. It just IS the wind, and it is the eye's calm, both the axis and the turning. Leaves fall without thinking about it. Water flows downward without asking why. This cool air comes into my lungs without questioning what it's going to get out of it. This is an important teaching.
And yet, those things don't feel gratitude, either. Perhaps that, too, is an important teaching.
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