Cruising Altitude

How do you feel today, Ru?

Almost immediately, I answered. Misaligned.

Maybe it’s the encroaching full moon. Maybe it’s the mittful of black currant jelly babies I ate yesterday afternoon. Maybe I’m exhausted from slogging through last week’s work and weather. Maybe I’m preoccupied by The Blooding of Jack Absolute. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve been lazy about my practice.

Instead of maintaining my nightly prayer and daily meditation, I let it slip to every other day and every second night. From there, it was easy to drop to a couple of times a week, and then to whenever I remember. It’s hard to be diligent for an extended period, not because I believe any less in the greater power of universal consciousness (or God, to keep it simple), but because I fall prey to the pitfalls of this mortal coil. I’m tired. I’m stressed. I’ve consumed too much sugar. Whatever the case, having achieved cruising altitude with prior due diligence, I coast while the coasting is clear.

Life, however, is meant to be turbulent. It sucks, but it’s true. Smooth sailing is a state of mind, certainly attainable but not sustainable without course correction when things get rough. The waves don’t have to be of epic proportion, either. Little ripples wear me down as easily as resuming my practice builds me up; it takes a few days for the cracks to show, but here’s the miracle:

I can regain my altitude almost immediately.

My mind is a terrible child. She lies in the weeds and waits to pounce when my back is turned. I can’t silence her completely, but I can, as one Middle Eastern sage suggests, know myself to be “the changeless witness of a changeful mind”.

Have you ever watched yourself flip out? You know it’s you pitching that fit, yet you’re remotely surprised at the same time. You may ask yourself later what that was all about – but do you ever answer the question? I confess to being mystified by my own behaviour, and there are often valid reasons for it, but my preferred state is to be that changeless witness, that objective observer who understands what’s happening but who also has the antidote.

This morning, I recognized my dip toward the cloud and caught myself before descent into mental chaos. I knew exactly what to do. Yoga, meditation, gratitude, in that order. My mind is still working, but she doesn’t own me as she tried to do on waking. In fact, she’s almost dopey, thus freeing me up to write this post and perhaps finish another story this afternoon. I wish I could say I nail it every time (even better if I remained at 30,000 feet without effort), but I’m only human ... some of the time.

With love,