Saturday, March 16, 2013

L Finding Impermenance

L Finding Impermenance
Wednesday March 13, 2013:
Vijayatara died at breakfast time on this day two years ago.

The sun is out in the garden. I sit down so I am in its beam. The air is
chilly, but not as cold as the day before. Everything is cool and damp. I
touch the newly emerging bulbs in the pot near the Compassion shrine. It
feels like they are a little more open than they were yesterday.


I sit down and open my awareness to what's around me. I wander through the
pathways of my various workings. Nothing really suits. I allow myself to
walk through leafy wooded spaces until I notice the birds. They are singing
sweetly. I tune in to their song.

Vijayatara is before me. She is lit up in the beam of sunlight, dressed in
her beautiful green robe. To my silent question about how I can work with
compassion, she says,
"think about impermanence. Everything will pass."
I think about how that might work but also how difficult it is to be in the
moment when it's painful. Perhaps I should hone in on the absolute moment,
the right now and here, I'm alright. There's something about working with
the minutia in the now and knowing that this too will pass. This is the
nature of impermanence.

I'm drawn to thoughts of suffering. It's the Christian thing to do
suffering big time and commemorate it in some way. That's odd. Why am I
thinking of suffering. Ah because the pain of some of the things I face
cause me suffering. This in the moment is an issue of being in the pain.
But if all things will pass, this will go too.

The birds fly about me. I feel them drawing closer in an avian embrace.
Their presence is strong. I feel their love. I feel Vijayatara's love. I
am loved. Can I be in the moment with this?

I am. It's a tender moment. I feel the heat of the sun on my right leg,
bathing it with gentle warmth. Because of this, I am not cold in the rest
of my body, although it is cold today. I allow the warmth of the gentle
kiss of the sun to permeate my body.

I stand up. The birds quietly drift away. I've made a change already.
Impermanence. All things will pass. This too will end. In the meantime,
be in the moment, and if it's painful, release the pain and just be with
myself in that basic "alright" state.

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