I can’t be the only one to wonder if someone out there is wondering back about me. I think about too many people each day to assume nobody’s wondering the same at some point.
Outside my window there’s rain and glowing gray sky–strangely it’s raining harder on one half of the house than the other.
At least as far as social media’s concerned, I’ve been a dead pixel for a really long time. Probably picked it up as a habit from my less than mindful times, that nothing I had to say was worth sharing. Then the choice would eventually not be a choice anymore. And it’s a subtlety of mind I don’t care to keep feeding. Try and learn something new everyday, sure. But even better, let go of another something that’s unnecessary. Letting go of spirals of ego that do nothing for me, and nothing for other people. Figuring out which things exactly I need to let go. And how.
The word ‘worldliness’ showed up in a journal entry the other day, without me really knowing what I meant to say. The feeling doesn’t seem to have a concise English word. I see worldliness in people’s eyes when they’re talking about what they love without getting too carried away. There’s worldliness in having no money, but sharing food anyway to enjoy with other friends. Worldliness when I feel like I am at my most ideal, this certain meditation I fall into when words come out kind, and motives really clean, and a sober compassion for strangers without letting personal fantasies interfere with the connection.
In the heart of the Bodhisattva there is worldliness; enlightenment on the ground. Somehow she cultivates sanity, and then contentedness, and then peace, amidst all the chaos. A worldly person somehow translates truth into the howling.
I find myself aching and confused, and I’ve bunkered in my privacy to heal, just to make way for new aches. Just turtles all the way down.
I think worldliness is what I’m trying to aim for now. Aching but laughing, singing songs though the biting cold. I’m not the ego I think I am, that statue of me: honor his Pain, his Great Suffering; remember the Creation Myth; it’s why we are here. Statues desire a vacuum to stay whole, and I see why I couldn’t breathe before.
I am not that statue. I’m the one acknowledging it, holding my breath–pretending to be perfect so the statue will witness me.