A quiet mind
“Be — don't try to become”
I'm here, again.
Quietly listening to an album called Four Centuries of Chant.
No words are needed.
But then again, it won't be long before my inner self (monkey mind) powers up and starts creating images, stories and tension.
That's all part of the human condition, right?
Imagine though — if it's not too contrived — a quiet or quieter mind.
Better still, not one filled with images of your apparent choosing but a stillness beyond words.
They come; they go; but you don't ascribe any label.
Sorry, I was daydreaming for a moment.
None of what I said makes any sense, does it, against the backdrop of a murderous pandemic? We all, or so it seems, want to talk about, ruminate on and, in some cases, shout from the heights of the highest I've-got-all-the-answers-building, what's to be done — "we'll have this thing beat in no time at all!"
As crass or even mischievous as it sounds, I'm headed in a different direction; .
Silence in nature.
Silence in the home.
Silence in my reading.
Silence in the silence.
That's not to say I've got nothing to say less still a quiet mind but I've exhausted myself so many times trying to process and deliver on my thoughts that I'm not surprised something has interceded on my behalf. I'm not sure who said it (was it the late Sydney Banks?) but there's the idea that your thinking gets you into trouble, but it can equally get you out of trouble.
Of course, this letting go that I'm describing might, superficially, be seen as contrived — a sort of elixir or prayer to the gods as a way of me dealing with my aching, bone-weary fight against myself. But it's not. It's just appearing, brightly — if that doesn't sound too much off the woo-woo scale.
Perhaps it is that I realise the hopelessness of the situation and instead of generating and living in the heat of my emotion, I'm letting go — or something ineffable is allowing me to do so.
Either way, this feels much more life-giving than being the lawyer or I'm-always-right person as, jokingly, as daughter #3 remarked over yesterday's lunch. For what it's worth, she's right. I can be and have been an arrogant SOB and it shames me to think of all the times I've tried to win an argument — "You're not in court now" has been uttered a few times by my wife.
I could feverishly look back — yes, there's much I'll have to own up to and atone for — but for now, I'm taking my time, sitting, and not chasing one feeling or thought process after another and instead I'm allowing everything, including me and my thoughts, to just to be.
Am I'm blessed — as I keep saying.