finally having slept, as usual, i wake in the early hours and am restless. one book of the ‘Crown of Stars’ series is read. i really should use the library instead of the bookstore. the rate at which i devour books is … well, many things, really, but it makes their purchase rather unreasonable, i think.
instead of picking up book two, i turn to the new Trungpa book and throttle back the voracious reader, choosing instead to seek practice. reading slowly, re-reading deliberately, letting it sink into my mind, rainwater on a old sponge.
i bypass the forwards and introductions. for now. and am on the first page of ‘the preliminaries’… and find a full stop at the word ‘maitri’. he writes here that ‘the only pure, loving object seems to be somebody who can show you the path.’
he says a little more, but it is all implicit to this first statement and i find it so and do not dwell on it. instead, returning to this sentence and for a time, letting it lend to me many things.
i have, for these last months, been struggling very hard with the reality that i cannot seem to put certain things out of my mind. i can intellectualize them all the day long. and often do. i can say every reason why i should be able to. i can agree very sincerely with those who say i ought to. i can even agree with myself that i ought to.
i remain unable to. and i have despaired for understanding why. i have never in my life been unable like this. never. i know how that reads. i wish i could just flash-load you with all the experiences i have had so you would know how true this is. i have never… in… my… life… been… unable.
until now.
and i struggle to understand it. and i fight with myself over it. and yes, i suffer for it. i have suffered quite some time for it and it does not end. i tell myself over and over that i will end it. and in those moments, i am so committed, so serious, so convinced.
and, obviously, so wrong.
i have told everyone who has contacted me that i do not wish to hear of him. i know they convey that if and when they speak to him. i grimace at how i take up the very tools of him to keep him from me. to keep him from me long enough for me to find the way to rebuild this wall.
not as if i need worry for his reaching. this i know. but i do. i do worry for it. ego. hah. i admit it. even in the face of all, still not willing to accept that he was blind. even as i repeatedly tell myself he was so, and his actions repeatedly cast him as so.
it borders on the insane. perhaps it crosses the border. perhaps it did long ago. i don’t know anymore. i remember reading Trungpa’s word on spiritual friends, gurus, and the manner of relation they often present. it is and remains comfort here. the one, small support of sanity left to me.
and i read these words of ‘maitri’ and look the word up and read extensively across the many lineages and each echo Trungpa’s words and it all supports that small ribbon of sanity in the midst of what seems otherwise completely insane.
i remain torn. i will never again seek him. i will never again reach. if there is to be any …. no… surely there will not be. it is pointless to even think of it. i strive instead to take such thoughts and all the memories and use them to turn myself to deeper learning.
part of that process is to honestly and without flinching say these things. i cannot create the things i aspire to by trying to weave them from lies.
it is hard, to admit all of this. i feel weak and helpless, lost and confused and so very ignorant. i often feel stupid. mostly for all the ways i allowed him to do this to me.
but i also admit it has been the seed from which many good things grow and continue to grow, despite his passing and the reality that i cannot any longer allow him proximity.
it is irony and sadness to me that the good things he gave arrive only after his departure, and not as much for his presence, but for his absence. i remember he wrote something about that once, talking about his amber, the torch with which he continues to torment himself. he is a master of self-flagellation. i wish i knew fully the crimes he convicts himself of… and i wish i were able or allowed to pardon them.
i sit here and think about the reality that he is not the only person i feel this need toward. he’s just the only one whose fully refused. i think about that for a time. and i correct myself… no… there are three others who refused. but four out of a lifetime is hardly deserving of the punishment i try to deal myself for them.
i wonder why i do it. why do i feel the need to hold so tightly to my failures? perhaps it is my way of avoiding pride. my own method of flagellation, lest i puff up and think myself somehow ‘capable’. hah. as if.
well. obviously it works. most of the time, anyway. i think about my anger toward c over her efforts and add one to the count. such careful countings. five. is it a good and helpful thing to remember them? should i forgive myself these failures? i ponder it more in this moment than usual. torn. fear of pride and a nod to the pride of non-pride, it’s all the same, isn’t it?
am i fooling myself?
these are the moments when thoughts of a teacher and the monastic life really surge. i have found a lineage with three monasteries in the US and they do accept any who would come and can demonstrate a calling to the life.
it has been hovering on the edges of my thoughts for some time. i am at once afraid of it and drawn to it. torn.
i think in one moment that i should inquire, perhaps visit and find out… set the question to rest. i think of the changes it would entail. not many, in this moment. i ponder if the events of the last six years have cleared the path to this end… or if i simply seek it out of a weariness with the on-going struggle.
i wish i knew.
i continue to send whispers and wishes to the universe for some clear sign. something i cannot miss. show me the way? i have felt very lost for a very long time now and my faith and trust in my own thinking has been sorely eroded by the events of this year.
i have never felt this uncertain before. but oddly, i do not fear the uncertainty. rather, i fear never feeling certain again. but perhaps that’s just ego talking. hard to say.
i miss feeling as if i knew my purpose.