114. Regret and other useless emotions.

 

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Posing. Not meditating. As usual.

 

It seems to me that regret is the sugar of emotions. You know it’s bad for you, but you just keep going back for more.

I always feel jealous of people who emphatically say they have none. Whether that means they’ve learned, recalibrated and moved on or they’re just really good at discarding what doesn’t help them travel light, who knows. Or maybe they’re just assholes, that could be it too.

I’ve reached the age now where there is more behind me than ahead. So there’s plenty of material to pick over. And yes, I know looking back gives you nothing much more than a crick in the neck but I am a thinker and thinking ahead can prove even more exhausting at times.

Staying in the present is the true task for me – a daily endeavor.

I’ve just come back from a sixty-minute meditation class. This is a lot less impressive than it sounds. Beautiful Italian Angela runs two early classes a week from Desa Seni’s yoga platform. She breaks the class into bite sized pieces, kind of a confectionary counter of meditation tips and tricks. There goes that sugar analogy again.

Every minute of it challenges me, I’m not going to lie. But my mind is always clearer after the event than before.

On resurfacing into my actual life on Sunday, I vow – once again – to fit meditation of some description into my daily routine. I have an app installed already, but the routine I have practiced to date is to discard its daily notifications.

A Buddhist teacher gave me a powerful visualisation a few years ago.  Celebrate the tiny change. Visualise it as a drop. Now put a cup under it, to catch the drop. Pretty soon you will have half a cup of change.

How sweet is that.

55. On giving thanks

We all have a lot to be grateful for I’m sure.  I know I do. And in the main, I’m pretty good at counting my blessings.

But being in this Buddhist country, the opportunities to pause a while are many. Little temples with serene Buddhas rest on every corner, and rarely is someone not taking a moment to pray at the Buddha’s feet.

I am crazy about temples, and find myself drawn to them often. I can stand in a magnificent Dutch church as I did yesterday at Galle, and feel awe at the architecture, but it is in the small flower festooned temples, with burning incense and love in the air, that I feel my heart expanding with peace and gratefulness.

It’s early and my boy is still asleep. His scores were running high yesterday which gave him a short fuse and a slow response rate. He was so inspiring, injecting himself four maybe five times throughout the day to try and get his body back under control. No complaining. It’s the way he keeps himself alive. I am praying he wakes at a healthy score this morning. He so deserves it.

There is still a part of me that grieves for the healthy boy I lost when he was diagnosed at five. But there is a bigger part of me that is excited for Cody now, and for me too. His challenges are growing him into such a big hearted, wise, optimistic young man. Every day is important to him; every human connection is important to him. He is quick to laugh and the slowest to judge I know.

For that, and so many other things in my life, I give thanks.