“The truth is that you already are what you are seeking. You are looking for God with his eyes. This truth is so simple and shocking, so radical and taboo that it is easy to miss among your flurry of seeking.
You may have heard what I am saying in the past and you may even believe it, but my question is, have you realized it with your whole being? Are you living it?” ~ Adyashanti
The emotional experience this winter is challenging terrain. It is so interesting that for a while I have been navigating a lot of stuff with a fairly stable inner essence. At this time, not navigating so much, but experiencing a lot of inner instability.
Words seem to be part of the conditions that give rise to this. Co-housing with three others plays a part of the conditions for sure. But these are not what is really happening.
I was sharing something that had happened earlier in the day with the Deep Spring Group 2 on Tuesday night. John had gone in to take a nap. A while later Linda asked me, “Is John sleeping?” On the surface that seems like an easy question to answer, but a yes did not come to be. My response was more honest than a yes would have (or could have) been.
“Say only he went into the bedroom to take a nap,” I heard the words as they were being spoken. “I have no way of knowing if he is sleeping or not.”
This is so literally true, however it did not feel skillful. I fumbled trying to explain what was happening within my mind that would not let me speak something I knew I did not know. I watched emotion arise: sadness. I have been feeling a lot of sadness of late.
John Orr shed some light on my experience by speaking of the practice of DON’T KNOW MIND. John said just as there is within “the one who knows” there is also within “the one who does not know.” We are encouraged to practice don’t know mind until you are comfortable resting in uncertainty, until you can do your best and laugh and say “Don’t know.”
I can say I don’t know what has my emotions so stirred. I don’t know what will allow those waters to settle.
With certainty I can say it has not been easy living with me these months of co-housing.
With certainty I can say the emotions are not “me” or “mine” but they are mine to navigate.
On Sunday we went to Farmer Joe’s to buy fresh produce. Linda and I had a lengthy conversation about apples prior to our going. My lunch every day is an apple with some cheese. Earlier in the season we got Honey Crisp apples for 99 cents a pound. That day they were priced at one dollar and 99 cents a pound. I told her the price was not much different from the Pink Lady variety we had been buying of late, and, yes, I would appreciate her getting some Honey Crisp apples while they were at the market.
As we pulled into the parking lot, however, John announced that they had Fuji apples on sale, suggesting we buy those. When Linda turned to me and asked did I want her to get those my emotions flared. They got the Fuji apples and I had the first one yesterday. Say only, they are in my experience an inferior apple.
The sadness that rises within speaks many phrases. Why can others in our home be indulged for the things they prefer: John gets yogurt and milk and English muffins. Larry gets his grits and wine. Linda gets her carbonated water. I hear myself thinking, “I ask for so little.”
This could be seen as something happening inside of me or outside of me or both. But what is it really? The one who knows knows it is not about apples. The one who does not know watches the emotions cloud the sky. It has been most interesting to me to notice how much separation I am feeling. Lonely feelings in the midst of my dear ones.
One of my dharma sisters said to me at the end of our Group 2 sharing that I am likely feeling the emotional weight of the collective. We are here in the midst of the aftermath of Hurricane Ian. People still don’t have roofs; have not settled with their insurance companies; are sifting through rubble or do not even have access to rubble. So much familiar and favored has vanished. I have my personal experience of all of this, for sure, but nothing is happening in a vacuum.
Today John and I will drive to Pine Island and clean windows for our dear friend Nancy Green. Nancy has just purchased her half of a duplex near center island; she is now sharing a wall with a long-time friend who also was displaced by the winds and the rains.
We have seventeen days of this season here in Port Charlotte before we will return to our respective homes in Michigan.
Sufficient time for seeing these emotional distortions as real experiences rising out of the conditions but not having any permanent nature; days and nights for shining the light of compassion on it all; an eternity of time for practicing that don’t know mind until we are comfortable resting in uncertainty.
How long will this all take? Say only, “Don’t know.”
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