"The point of meditation is not cash and prizes." Well, Sh*t.




I was with a group of people the other day, and one of the
women was saying that her life has expanded, things have magically fallen into
place, and she is at ease because of her practice of prayer and meditation.
I, don’t agree.
Or, rather, that hasn’t been my experience. Another woman
said, after my own tirade response along the lines of, I pray, meditate, show
up, do things, follow rules, be good, and life still happens. I didn’t get cash and prizes because I meditated 12
minutes instead of 5. Or because I remembered to pray several times a day for
“whatever will be will be.” What the woman after me said was that it’s not
about cash and prizes, it’s about noticing for just a few minutes that I’m not
spinning the wheel that makes the earth turn. That whatever I do or don’t do, I
am not Master of the Universe, and that thought brings her comfort.
For me, meditation is simply a few minutes in a day in which
I can try to get quiet, and can try to use them as a touchstone of stillness throughout the
rest of the day, as it veers off into “whatever will be will be.” Because,
sometimes what that is, is not what I want.
I read a cartoon today on a friend’s facebook page with an
exchange between a man and a monk. The man screams I WANT HAPPINESS. The monk
takes the man’s dialogue bubble, and wipes it off, saying, Take off, I; that’s ego. Take off Want; that’s desire. And gives the man back his bubble, so that it now reads only “Happiness.”
I went to my friend’s band’s show last night. In writing and
thinking, “I want to do that,” Perhaps it’s simply, “Do that.”
Chances multiply as you reach for them, says a printed
tag off a Yogi tea bag.
I want to sing in a rock and roll band. So, simply, Sing in
a rock and roll band. ~ Ask my friend again, as I had in January if I can come
practice with him. What do I have to lose? There are no cash and prizes from
sitting on my ass with my eyes closed. The satisfactions in life come from
I don’t want to be a secretary. Take off “I don’t want,” and
I have, Be a secretary. Because, simply, that’s what I am … No. That’s how I
earn money to afford my life right now. It’s the reality of the situation, and
I can try to adjust myself to what is.
People always ask what it is I want to do with my life, as I
ask myself, since I complain about it ad nauseum to anyone who will listen. My
answer is always the same: I don’t know. I haven’t found a profession I think,
But I have these other things that make me say that.
Performing, acting, being on stage in a band. Yes. That is my happiness. It
doesn’t erase that I am a receptionist; but I’m starting to see the job thing
as just another thing to practice boundaries around.
If my job were another person, and I felt drained,
unappreciated, uninspired around that person, I would work on holding the
boundaries of who I am, so I don’t get swept into that mire. I would work hard
on maintaining my center of being, and try to my best to be my authentic self,
without diminishing who I am because I don’t like the person.
My job is a person I can’t quit right now. But I can try to
become less enmeshed with it. I can get less swayed by its moods and tasks and
chaos and mundanity. I can try to inject my own fun and quirk. This worked
really well yesterday, until about 3pm.
But, it’s progress. I am not my job, but that doesn’t mean I
don’t have to show up to it. However, I have a much greater chance of maintaining my
center if I do sit my ass on the couch in silence with semi-regularity. 

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