The Way It Happens
Quietly but insistently, my mind has been talking to me these past few days. It has gained in strength during my nearly seven months of reframing practice, and even under stressful conditions, has helped me see clearly. It has slowed down enough during the potentially reactive bits that I could get my bearings and not add any more suffering to the mix, or exacerbate the situation at hand.
When the shit hits the fan, as it has this week, I can’t imagine where I would be without my practice. Fifteen years is a long time to sit around and do nothing (not all of those fifteen years of course, but you know what I mean). To sit and not try to get anywhere, or do anything, seems crazy luxurious when you consider it from that angle. And just when you think there’s no “there” there, suddenly there is. When there is no net, your mind suddenly becomes one for you.
It makes no sense on paper. It’s intangible as hell, and not likely to become any clearer. The results of my reframing can’t be put in a frame and hung on my wall, or poured into my car to make it start. It won’t feed me or clothe me, and it may never save my life. But it makes the quality of my life on this planet better, and less knee-jerk because of it.
So mind, this one’s for you. You’re resilient and think for yourself. You don’t follow gurus blindly, and question nearly everything that filters through from the senses. You lean toward grace, and kindness, and curiosity. You seek out the beauty in every moment. And I’m ever so glad you’re in my head, and help me make my time here meaningful. What I would be without you is scary to think about.
The way it happens, I’m deeply in love with you, even when we don’t get along, or you race too fast for me to sleep. If my consciousness resides in you, as some people believe, I hope we stay together lifetime after lifetime, like two buds just lookin’ for some fun in the cosmos.
