Fieldnotes, February 10, 2015

Familial Support
                                        Familial Support

At some point, you just have go sit on your
– my –
After Byron and Eckhart,
after the tapping,
after Abraham,
and Facebook.
After this, that, and the other-

I sit.
Just sit-
and, welcome it all,
quietly and attentively.

I’m working with joy and abandon; because it’s the antidote for waking up full
of anxiety at what the morning and my
interactions will bring (at work). All of my insecurities; will I make mistakes today? How can I NOT make mistakes today.
I didn’t know when I began this latest journey, that after a year,
I would begin to feel that I wanted…more.
More what? More hours, more money?
More than anything, more respect, more appreciation,
more acknowledgment of what I bring to the work place.
And, who will give these things to me?
What if I gave them all to myself, first?

My twenty year old son says, “Mom, I have no idea what to do!! (with his life).
How lovely; we’re both on this path of discovery.
It’s disheartening at his age to understand that we never really get anything done.
The layers are endless; some easier and thinner to peel, others, oh so tough!

I’ve been thinking, “how can I bring together everything I’ve ever learned into a situation
that I can generate a livable income, for as long as I am able to work”?
Rilke says to “live the questions into their answers.”

I’ve been studying the Heart Sutra.
Singing it in English and in Japanese as it’s chanted in the zendo.
It’s about the practice and understanding of emptiness and groundlessness
and the myriad possibilities this emptiness affords.

I heed my advice given to my son; do what’s right in front of you.
So, I walk the dog. I go to work. I make food to fill the hunger.
I begin to edit the book I’ve written.
I look at the words, “who wrote these?”

I write my gratitude for:
love of my partner,
the beauty of our home and a sense of place I’ve never known before.
Gratitude for the opportunity to bear witness as my oldest son
navigates the unpredictability of grief.
Tenderness as I watch my own path with grief; it has a life all it’s own,
not ever asking permission to enter.
Just showing up whenever it pleases.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the lay vows I took for becoming
a Zen Buddhist, including the three refuges, the ten precepts and
the Three Tenets of a Peacemaker, which are:
I vow to:
live a life of not knowing
bear witness to the joy and suffering of the world
healing myself and others.

Such a relief to stop having to know… anything!
Then everything is possible.

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