relaxed alertness. even-keeled joy.

as i marvel more and more the crystalline clarity and purity of the visuals in the dream, how refined and luscious those figures of smoke are i realize why the scriptures call this physical body gross. that doesn't take away the holiness of this body, the temple in which we know our own true nature. it's just that i have the experience of what is real. in this morning's meditation it is so clear that the space into where the exhalations dissolve is both within me and holding me. i no longer get frustrated because the mind can't wrap around it. i gently place attention in the movement of the incoming and outgoing breaths, don't try to force anything or judge anything, like, am i doing the right thing, should the inhalations be longer, shouldn't i equalize the inbreaths and outbreaths. blah blah blah.

the other thing i realize recently is i have not been taking enough time and care to come of meditation. because the mind kind of has this habitual way of judging my meditations. o, it's not deep, you are aware of your body, you don't see thunder and lightnings and angels. so usually when i hear the timer i take a few rounds of deep breaths and get up from the asana. what happens is i would get drowsy and even dizzy during the day. but since i have been giving time and attention to bring myself out of meditation my energy during the day is steadier. there is a heightened sense of alertness in a relaxed manner. i am tied tighter and tighter into this state of even-keeled joy. it's so easy now to enjoy things and people and not get attached or bothered.

breaks my heart to see him in such pain

i thought i have a good handle on 'attachment.' until i see hwubby in such pains. a burp sets off a screaming spasm. or it can come on just like that, involuntarily. the doctor asks him, on the scale of one to ten, what is this pain? hwubby says, nine at least. so he's been put on morphine. and that creates another kind of pain. constipation. before this happened hwubby has at least one bowel movement a day. so it breaks my heart to see him suddenly screaming in pain and i can do nothing about it.

so it is i count my great good fortune to be able to stay in a lovely, serene apartment near bellevue. i have the two bedroom apartment all to myself. now i even have a meditation room. i go into meditation today with a burning question. how am i going to walk through the eight inch of snow in l l bean shoes? but i am not worried. somehow i know the answer is within. and sure it is. soon into meditation i receive it. wrap plastic bags around feet. and so i do. i secure it midway below knee with rubber band. it works beautifully. thank you, inner self. now off i go into the famous new york snow.

i want to be a carbon copy of avraham

there i said it. and i will say it again and again. whatever avraham stands for i want that. i feel so close to him. on many levels. i left where i was born and raised, crossed the ocean and settled in a foreign land. so when i learned that the first direct command avraham received from god is, go forth, leave your mother-and-father's land, i recognize the avraham in me.

avraham is devoted enough to circumcise at eighty-nine and, at the same time, confident enough to negotiate with god when god says, i want to destroy all the people in sodom. i want to become that.

and i have my own two-cents on the binding-son episode. from my simple, and others may consider simplistic, point of view, avraham realizes that his only son doesn't belong to him. god gave him this child and god can take it away. why? i don't know. i have come to the place that i accept that it's not for me to question and judge but to embrace what it is as it is and deal with it wholeheartedly with calm and clarity without attachment and letting go of the thoughts that say, this is mine, that is mine. and so it is i want to be a carbon copy of avraham.

circumcising the heart

i love the tradition of singing certain prayers at a particular time year after year. case in point. this yom kippur this particular phrase in a hymn that has been sung for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. we ask yhvh to grant us the courage and strength to remove the coverings of the heart. circumcision of the heart, if you will. i've been yah-lah-lah-ing this year after year but this time, for a fleeting moment, something about it resonates deep within me. indeed. my heart is pure but there are layer upon layer of covering over it. all habitual tendencies of one form or another. conditionings. accepted social norms. attachments. expectations. unmet expectations. identification with appearances. confusing perceptions with what's real. desire to be liked, to please, to look good. mistaking acquired stuff as true security. panic in the face of fear. blah blah blah. but, enough is enough. they all have to go because i want to be fully-realized. as in yom kippur, i see the image of avraham accepting the covenance with yhvh and circumcised at the age of eighty. to me it means doing whatever is necessary in order to walk with yhvh.

friends ask, are you ok? my heart is fine. the heart is always fine. the rest are just circumstances to go through and things to take care of.

i'm not the worry

hwubby says, do you ever have the sense that you are one with everything? i say, i don't know, that's kind of vague for me, do you? he says, i have these moments when i don't feel i am not attached to anything, everything is changing, keeps changing, i'm watching.

love it. i would adjust slightly to 'aware' rather than 'watching.' why? because 'watching' implies some sort of engagement. sort of like, i'm inside the house going about my business and it is raining outside. i don't drop what i am doing and watch the rain although that's a lovely thing to do too. i'm referring to the thoughts and feelings, whatever, that ripple in the mind. like, right now, as i am typing i am aware of traces of worry, whatever, pass through the mind. i'm not even interested in saying, don't worry, or, what is it that i'm worrying about? i'm not the worry. period. i'm the inner self.