So then I try again.
I’ve got my favorite shawl–a lovely teal one– around my shoulders against the chill of first light. I’m not, as customary, on my little red pillow, but rather in the kitchen, in a chair. Sitting with legs crossed is not an option this morning. My knees are swollen, more than usual –the residual effect from a workout days ago I’m afraid.
I sit with eyes closed, focusing on my breath. The guided meditation instructs me to bring, for a moment, an awareness of the sounds around me.
Ah, that is not difficult! This new old house seems to emit groans of all sorts–like laborious sighs of lament– too many in fact, that invade the quiet of the early morning. How I would like to be enveloped in noiselessness (is that even possible?), especially as I struggle with this morning’s Headspace meditation. I’d prefer to be able to hear a feather drop to the floor and not the thunderous whooshing sound of the HVAC system, nor it’s clinks and clanks as it cycles on and off. The wood floors too seem to constantly talk–like my perennially aching knees– in the dry winter air. Could it be they are saying: We are in much need of a good sanding and refinishing! Ironically, true for both wood floors and my knees!
Even the subtle hum of the refrigerator seems to annoy me this morning. What is up with that?
Back to the breath…..
I manage to stick with it and when done twenty minutes later I open my eyes to see that the sun has made its way into the kitchen. For a moment I am buoyed by the cheerful ray of sunlight through the patio door. I smile as I look at The Poodle curled up in his bed. As I head for my second cup of java for the morning I’m thinking about what I should accomplish before the day is up: finish up Italian homework, the never-ending laundry, errands out and about, and there’s that book that I’m trying to get through….
I hear the shower start in the basement. A sigh heavier than a thousand sighs combined pours out of me. My man-child, still living in our basement, stirs. He has a boatload of troubles and cannot, even with the help of family, seem to get this head together.
A quote I read recently online by B.D. Schiers, comes to mind: “If you want to change the world, start with the next person who comes to you in need.” I cannot seem to find any information on this person but If I met him or her I’d ask: “Um…what made you come to that stroke of wisdom…and how did it work out for you?”
Ah, it bubbles up again. The past. Feelings of helplessness and utter failure. And therein lies the source of my angst and agitation on this particular morning.
I know it is a tired cliché, but I want to throw in the towel and be done…or at least, wave the white flag in surrender. Once again, I seem to be failing miserably in getting through to my man-child.
Yet there is still a kernel of hope deep within me. Don’t all mothers feel this way?
It is a new day. Do not focus on the many miles ahead. It’s what I do today that matters most according to The Buddha.
So, as I’ve done countless days before this one….let’s try one more time, shall we?
No white flags, yet. Never give up.