Crying
My teacher left town Monday evening, after a viewing of her biographical documentary, Chasing Buddha, which will be showing again this coming evening if any of you want to see it. CinemaCafe, Santa Fe, NM. I drove home crying all the way.It felt like like the many times I've left a spiritual retreat or a great hiking trip and on the way down from the mountain I've cried the whole way.
She is my mountain.
The great compassion she shows. I'm mesmerized. I'm sure Yogiji was much the same, although I never met him.
I'm still crying, over a myriad of things. I'm homesick--for Seattle and for family; I'm watching my anger and the suffering I generate for myself because of it (which feels like a 6th step all over again); and I'm finishing up a 40-day meditation which is challenging my projection for love, for relationship, and my ability to let go of the results.
It's always interesting at this stage in my "spiritual life" to sit in the middle of my living room, a grown woman, crying over who knows what. I feel like this outside observer, looking down on this crumpled, sobbing flesh, knowing it will pass. That this same woman will get up and make herself dinner, and do the dishes, and read for an hour, then do her meditations and go to bed. A step in the right direction away from identifying with the feeling and wallowing for days and weeks, which is what used to happen in my 20s. Still, a strange phenomenon to inhabit this body, this mind and watch all its machinations of moving through life.
So, here's to a good cry. May it wash your sould clean and may you rise in the morning with the sun and a smile.
posted by Sat Purkh Kaur Khalsa @ 4:46 PM
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