"THE VIEW WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS VIEW AND HOW IS IT THAT WE GET TO LIVE HERE" -- I know the view you're talking about and I at least THINK about it a lot lately and my heart contorts a little every time now that I don't live there anymore and it's inaccessible to me. Why do many of these things you're talking about become more precious when they're in the past tense? I'm trying to be aware of this tendency I have to to love places, processes, even people in retrospect -- how can they be priceless right here right now? THANKS FOR TALKING ABOUT THIS!
Kateling! thanks for this!-- I've been thinking about it and first of all, you (we all) are up against so many challenges to being present. As a mom to a young child you are using a HUGE amount of bandwidth on just keeping everyone alive, even and maybe especially when it doesn't seem like it. And beyond that, you're also working-- and despite all the lovely benefits of the awesome work you do, our culture uses work in general to set up the insatiable machine of "productivity", wherein literally NOTHING will ever be enough, and that's the whole point. So in several ways, off the bat, we're captives, with very few cracks to peek through even if we can manage to notice them. It is no wonder that wonder, engagement, fondness and tenderness all get sidelined in the moment. (I think it's actually wonderful that you have the retrospective hand-hold, at least-- I think for a lot of people even that isn't accessible, and it's a great place to start, or has been for me.) There's just not time or energy for being IN the lives we're so busily "making." Unless... and here I'm just riffing... we can be less anxious about "outcomes"-- a concept which is really just another racket. There is no finishing point, no conclusion, no definitive assessment to be had. Ever. There is no way to "win" or "get it right" or "succeed" when you keep in mind that we're moving at 18.5 miles per second right now and someday we will all be dead. There's only an enormous and perpetual river of experience. I think when we relinquish the idea that we can "achieve" or "complete" anything at all, and take the terrifying step of hurling ourselves into the river of any and all experiences, the sensations of living, which are all allowed, become more of our experience of our lives, rather than the tools we use to measure everything while we're busy making sand-piles. So I'm not saying you're judging yourself all the time, or that you're fixated on making the "right" sand piles, but if you're at all like me, maybe there are some covert ways in which you are, and sussing those out and actively working to let go of them, relinquish them (because we're half way to dead and I'm starting to feel that whatever it is I'm doing isn't working super awesomely) can make a lot of space for new and surprising things. And don't get me wrong-- everyone needs to make money, and brush their teeth, and get to daycare, and learn eventually not to pick their nose in public or punch people in the face, and run the necessary number of miles not to go insane. Those things all have to happen and legitimately take a lot of focus and effort and time. But there is always infinite space underneath and behind and around these things, and we're moving 67,000 mph. The more I remember to tap into this, remind myself of it, the smaller and freer I am in my own consciousness, so that it's not ME, doing things right and wrong, but just a whole network of everythingness, in which I'm lucky enough to get to soak up all kinds of experiences, and every single feeling I have, I am allowed to have, and will change, like everything else, and aren't we all sparkly?? Hope this isn't too soapboxy! I've been thinking about it a lot. Also: read Lauren Groff's The Vaster Wilds if you haven't yet xox
There is an absolute pleasure in present moment focus, that helps me as a sort of guide. When do I vanish into what I'm doing? These days, this comes up on the playground. It's taken a while to get the balance right, but following my kid around on a playground puts me in a sort of meditative state. It used to drive me nuts -- all this time spending "accomplishing" nothing! I used to try to mentally work on writing projects or make grocery lists or whatever. But that only made me unhappy and frustrated. I turned a corner at some point to where I can't wait to go to the playground for an hour because 1) I don't have to do ANYTHING except engage in the moment and 2) because that engagement is a full mind-body-emotions activity all right in the present. It's very relaxing...and that's a clue that there's something working about it. I bring a rested brain to whatever it is I have to do (and yes, there are things one must do) next. Oddly, child-raising is both a challenge to being present (If I'm not three steps into the future, kiddo has nothing to eat and his shoes fall apart and I pay overdue fines of various types) AND an aid to being present. I'll be thinking about this for a while.
Also: sand piles. i love that you bring this up. I know very, very little about the Tibetan Buddhist ritual of sand mandalas, but I get that the basic idea is to take vast amounts of time to create an intricate piece of art. Then not frame it or preserve it or sell it or make a documentary about it or get an award for it -- but take a straw and within a few seconds blow it all into nothing. I can imagine there's a pleasure in making the mandala in the first place, the way there can be a pleasure in doing my day job or writing my novel or finishing all the reps of a track workout. Running especially is so ephemeral. anyway, in anything we care about, I think there's a tricky tipping point between desiring an outcome and doing the thing because it's worth doing. Everything will blow away eventually, but staying present can make nearly anything meaningful. Can it? I have your river of experience in mind.
THAT's the hitch! the catch! ...what sensitizes you so exquisitely to the gorillas running through this world's frame! You LIVE with TWO of them! Although I suspect that daily living is what could, and probably does also dull you to actually seeing the gorillas...unless on high alert for similar species you encounter, as if previously traumatized by gorillas...hmmm. It all seems so complicated...
don't give up-- you had it at "does also dull you to actually seeing the gorillas"-- where you hit a tasty little irony that is the nougat in this candy bar, roughly the same figure as "hiding in plain sight": that which can stimulate livingness is also often precisely what we don't see, perhaps because of its intensity (who can handle having gorillas streaking through their kitchen all the time?) We put filters on, understandably, in order to get on with our lives, but in doing so, we do just that-- get on *with* them, instead of *in* or *of* them. The trick becomes to notice, and allow, the moments that reorient and refresh our perspectives.
The views - we must never lose sight of the beautiful views; even if it's sometimes it's a scrunched up scowl shared by two ladies dashing through the rain - obviously mother and daughter; ) Thanks for sharing your P O Views.
Dear friend, thank you for pointing out the Gorilla in the middle of the basketball court. I have never noticed it before, but now I cannot un-see what has been seen, and my field of view is richer for it.
"THE VIEW WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS VIEW AND HOW IS IT THAT WE GET TO LIVE HERE" -- I know the view you're talking about and I at least THINK about it a lot lately and my heart contorts a little every time now that I don't live there anymore and it's inaccessible to me. Why do many of these things you're talking about become more precious when they're in the past tense? I'm trying to be aware of this tendency I have to to love places, processes, even people in retrospect -- how can they be priceless right here right now? THANKS FOR TALKING ABOUT THIS!
Kateling! thanks for this!-- I've been thinking about it and first of all, you (we all) are up against so many challenges to being present. As a mom to a young child you are using a HUGE amount of bandwidth on just keeping everyone alive, even and maybe especially when it doesn't seem like it. And beyond that, you're also working-- and despite all the lovely benefits of the awesome work you do, our culture uses work in general to set up the insatiable machine of "productivity", wherein literally NOTHING will ever be enough, and that's the whole point. So in several ways, off the bat, we're captives, with very few cracks to peek through even if we can manage to notice them. It is no wonder that wonder, engagement, fondness and tenderness all get sidelined in the moment. (I think it's actually wonderful that you have the retrospective hand-hold, at least-- I think for a lot of people even that isn't accessible, and it's a great place to start, or has been for me.) There's just not time or energy for being IN the lives we're so busily "making." Unless... and here I'm just riffing... we can be less anxious about "outcomes"-- a concept which is really just another racket. There is no finishing point, no conclusion, no definitive assessment to be had. Ever. There is no way to "win" or "get it right" or "succeed" when you keep in mind that we're moving at 18.5 miles per second right now and someday we will all be dead. There's only an enormous and perpetual river of experience. I think when we relinquish the idea that we can "achieve" or "complete" anything at all, and take the terrifying step of hurling ourselves into the river of any and all experiences, the sensations of living, which are all allowed, become more of our experience of our lives, rather than the tools we use to measure everything while we're busy making sand-piles. So I'm not saying you're judging yourself all the time, or that you're fixated on making the "right" sand piles, but if you're at all like me, maybe there are some covert ways in which you are, and sussing those out and actively working to let go of them, relinquish them (because we're half way to dead and I'm starting to feel that whatever it is I'm doing isn't working super awesomely) can make a lot of space for new and surprising things. And don't get me wrong-- everyone needs to make money, and brush their teeth, and get to daycare, and learn eventually not to pick their nose in public or punch people in the face, and run the necessary number of miles not to go insane. Those things all have to happen and legitimately take a lot of focus and effort and time. But there is always infinite space underneath and behind and around these things, and we're moving 67,000 mph. The more I remember to tap into this, remind myself of it, the smaller and freer I am in my own consciousness, so that it's not ME, doing things right and wrong, but just a whole network of everythingness, in which I'm lucky enough to get to soak up all kinds of experiences, and every single feeling I have, I am allowed to have, and will change, like everything else, and aren't we all sparkly?? Hope this isn't too soapboxy! I've been thinking about it a lot. Also: read Lauren Groff's The Vaster Wilds if you haven't yet xox
There is an absolute pleasure in present moment focus, that helps me as a sort of guide. When do I vanish into what I'm doing? These days, this comes up on the playground. It's taken a while to get the balance right, but following my kid around on a playground puts me in a sort of meditative state. It used to drive me nuts -- all this time spending "accomplishing" nothing! I used to try to mentally work on writing projects or make grocery lists or whatever. But that only made me unhappy and frustrated. I turned a corner at some point to where I can't wait to go to the playground for an hour because 1) I don't have to do ANYTHING except engage in the moment and 2) because that engagement is a full mind-body-emotions activity all right in the present. It's very relaxing...and that's a clue that there's something working about it. I bring a rested brain to whatever it is I have to do (and yes, there are things one must do) next. Oddly, child-raising is both a challenge to being present (If I'm not three steps into the future, kiddo has nothing to eat and his shoes fall apart and I pay overdue fines of various types) AND an aid to being present. I'll be thinking about this for a while.
I sent you a bushel of grain and you sent back a cake!!!! It was delicious. Thannk you.
Also: sand piles. i love that you bring this up. I know very, very little about the Tibetan Buddhist ritual of sand mandalas, but I get that the basic idea is to take vast amounts of time to create an intricate piece of art. Then not frame it or preserve it or sell it or make a documentary about it or get an award for it -- but take a straw and within a few seconds blow it all into nothing. I can imagine there's a pleasure in making the mandala in the first place, the way there can be a pleasure in doing my day job or writing my novel or finishing all the reps of a track workout. Running especially is so ephemeral. anyway, in anything we care about, I think there's a tricky tipping point between desiring an outcome and doing the thing because it's worth doing. Everything will blow away eventually, but staying present can make nearly anything meaningful. Can it? I have your river of experience in mind.
THAT's the hitch! the catch! ...what sensitizes you so exquisitely to the gorillas running through this world's frame! You LIVE with TWO of them! Although I suspect that daily living is what could, and probably does also dull you to actually seeing the gorillas...unless on high alert for similar species you encounter, as if previously traumatized by gorillas...hmmm. It all seems so complicated...
don't give up-- you had it at "does also dull you to actually seeing the gorillas"-- where you hit a tasty little irony that is the nougat in this candy bar, roughly the same figure as "hiding in plain sight": that which can stimulate livingness is also often precisely what we don't see, perhaps because of its intensity (who can handle having gorillas streaking through their kitchen all the time?) We put filters on, understandably, in order to get on with our lives, but in doing so, we do just that-- get on *with* them, instead of *in* or *of* them. The trick becomes to notice, and allow, the moments that reorient and refresh our perspectives.
The views - we must never lose sight of the beautiful views; even if it's sometimes it's a scrunched up scowl shared by two ladies dashing through the rain - obviously mother and daughter; ) Thanks for sharing your P O Views.
Love the image, Suzanne. Thanks.
Thanks. I'm still laughing over the grape dimetap hell's angel!
Sometimes we just need a Last of the Mohicans reminder. 10-year-old Amy was iiiiiin looooooove with Uncas 😆
BECAUSE SHE WAS (IS) SMART
Dear friend, thank you for pointing out the Gorilla in the middle of the basketball court. I have never noticed it before, but now I cannot un-see what has been seen, and my field of view is richer for it.
<pounds chest, throws candy bar> <3
it is all very true.
love, Rose