Every branch and twig is covered in white frost. Piles of snow and great chunks of dirty ice line roads and walkways. Parking lots are ringed with mountains of the grimy stuff. We had a reprieve from sub-zero weather— a warm spell of dripping icicles and the rather startling sound of snow sliding off the roof. Our old spruce tree is home to a city of birds, now chattering with some kind of euphoric, energetic release. Two crusty old robins who survived the frigid cold spell, rest nearby, with feathers still puffed to the max.
Last night our meditation group discussed our propensity to turn way from what is, not wanting what is right here now, always wanting something better or other than what is. How do we look away? How do we avoid being with our experience? The discussion wandered into ideas like repression, denial, rumination and the necessity to peel the onion, to dig into endless layers of awareness for years and even lifetimes. Sounds like an endless slog of analysis keeping therapeutic communities in business for countless lifetimes. People in the group shared their various struggles and frustrations which generally can be translated as weariness of cold gray days, navigating slippery streets, while digesting news of horrific suffering all over the world. Then a voice burst out, "I just want to have fun!" And the room filled with laughter. It was me. What I meant was– I don't want to peel my life like an onion with its attendant tears. I don't want to analyze my every thought and mood. I just want to live my life. To work hard. And play hard. To do the best I can. That's all. To be angry when I'm angry. To be happy when I'm happy. Simple and clean and clear. That's what I aspire to. I don't want to be a Buddha.