So all's changing in the state of Janemark. I'm loath to talk about it for too long as Margaret from last year's Moroccan yoga holiday emailed me last week and said all the navel gazing was very tedious, but then I remembered that I'm not blogging for her but for me (although I did type that out the other way round first so maybe my Freudian side knows she's right) and I can go on about whatever I like and if she gets bored, she knows how to shut the window.
And actually, I really don't have that much to say about myself, except that a couple of years ago, I was on a date and the guy played me a tune on his iPod: Peggy Lee singing Is That All There Is?. I loved the sound of the song, it was laconic and cool, but the words I managed to make out through his rubbish headphones didn't really ring true for me. I listened to it again at the weekend. Now I get it. I thought it was about life being inevitably disappointing - but now I think it's about accepting what is. Society spins everything; relationships, university, jobs, kids, holidays - they're all going to be life-altering, just change this or that, pay your money and your future will be bright. But as all the Faithful should be chanting right now, the future is an illusion. All we have is the present. That's all there is. And it's wonderful, truly. I was talking to Kate at the weekend and explained the shift thus: it's like I used to get excited about £10. £10 mattered. If someone gave me £10, I'd be thrilled. But most days, I wouldn't get £10. And now, my life is all about pennies. Of course, a thousand pennies make up £10, and those pennies are valuable in themselves. But the hit of joy you get from each penny doesn't seem so impressive right now, to me. I think, basically, my existence is now about a steady stream of pennies, a warm glow from the small things rather than a thrilling rush at occasional highs. I'm just adjusting to that. I think it will be glorious. Right now it's strange, new, not unpleasant but not the norm.
I keep thinking back to one of those Zen proverbs I posted eons ago - I'll paste it in here for those of you who have joined more recently.
'A student went to his meditation teacher and said, "My meditation is horrible! I feel so distracted, or my legs ache, or I'm constantly falling asleep. It's just horrible!"
"It will pass," the teacher said matter-of-factly.
A week later, the student came back to his teacher. "My meditation is wonderful! I feel so aware, so peaceful, so alive! It's just wonderful!'
"It will pass," the teacher replied matter-of-factly. '
When I first read that story, I found it depressing. I wanted good things to last and bad things to go. Why would anyone want to be all Zen, unable to get excited about the highs, condemned to see all things as fleeting? But I've now had this insight, and I can't unsee it. And suddenly, everywhere I look I find it again. A quotation by George Gissing was at the front of the book I'm reading, saying:
"It is the mind which creates the world about us, and even though we stand side by side in the same meadow, my eyes will never see what is beheld by yours. My heart will never stir to the emotion with which yours is touched."
It might seem sad initially, but a parallel truth is that no one will ever see the meadow the way I see it. And, now that I (somehow, strangely, unexpectedly, miraculously) respect my own opinion and my own viewpoint, I can enjoy the knowledge that this take on the meadow is mine and mine alone. It's special.
I don't know if it's a coincidence, but today was strange. I woke up feeling decidedly odd, and when Laura asked me to explain the oddness, I realised that I was experiencing something profound: I was in a good mood FOR NO REASON AT ALL. I'm not sure this has ever happened to me. The day has been busy and I'm less perky now, but I know that the stress that used to be a permanent fixture in the pit of my stomach has gone. I am worthy. Extraordinary times on Lost Looking For Fish, I'm sure you'll agree.
Now then, for Margaret's sake, let's talk about something else.
Nope, can't think of anything. Soz. Bye.
amusingly, in forwarding your post to a friend, i had to type in the word "elato" to prove i was not a cyborg.
ReplyDeletejust like to say thank you for sharing your extraordinary...yet ordinary journey. I for one have not found it tedious( might not have read every blog;-), but still), but seeing you emerge is uplifting to me. to quote Mao: " the journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step"and you are way beyond that, in the meadow.Your blogs have often made me think and re-evaluate, thanks again xx
ReplyDeleteThanks for forwarding the post, Clasen - and thank you so much to Corina for those lovely words. WHY HAVEN'T YOU READ EVERY BLOG?! Outrageous. ;-)
ReplyDeleteI also had this lovely post on the LLFF Facebook page:
"Whatever Margaret says, sometimes you say something into the void and it resonates with someone. Today it was me. I'm having a bit of a wobble in January and this helped. Thanks. Babb x"
So I feel very glowy. Mwah to you all.