Last night, as predicted, was a bumpy night. Today, once again, I have to let my stomach rest. Its hungry but guess what? I'm so not putting anything into it for a while. And certainly not pizza.
Im not sure what got to me, the grease, the cheese, or the bread or all of the above. But rest assured, I WONT do that again.
I think I have a solution to my exercise delimma. Since it's raining again (It's been such a wet summer) and I can't get out as often as I like, I believe the kitchen is the next best place to go. It's not spacious by any means, but I do have room in there for prostrations and some sun salutations. As soon as they get the sink out of the bedroom I can do my evening workouts in there as well. As far as the yoga's concerned. I don't know yet. I may have to just start throwing people out of the house for half an hour so I can 1 have room to do it and 2, do it without all the pointing and snickering.
I don't like the way my muscles are starting to sag again. And the skin around joints is starting to sag as well. Last night I looked at my forearm and it didn't look like it belonged to me. It's time to tone up. It's amazing what a few days of sedentary activity will do to the body.
Yeah yeah I know part of it is age, but not all of it. Most of it is due to inactivity. I gotta find more active things to do around the house.
I'm finding it more difficult to find ways to practice, especially in the early morning. I overslept like I have for the last several nights, and then once I get up trying to find a place to practice is difficult. But the solution to that too could be the kitchen. Practicing between men making their morning trek to the coffee pot and microwave.
I'd say something, but the atmosphere is already tense and I don't want to set off a firestorm.
At least its impermenent. Sometimes impermanence rocks. Like taking a dump after a long miserable bout of constipation.
I love my guys but I want the peaceful reassurance of my daily routine back :D
I'm contemplating non-violence. Maybe it's because yesterday was 9-11, or maybe its' because I was thinking about Tibet, and probably remembering what my dad said about the trail of tears, and treaty upon treaty of promised peace which was broken time and again...and then my own history where I had adopted a nonviolent stance in high school and had my ass handed to me on a daily basis when it occured to people that I wouldn't fight back. Even today when I encounter someone from school, they ask, "why didn't you fight back?"
The answer was simple. I was raised to be a lady and ladies don't fight.
And I didn't fight, not until I was excused from gym class after suffering a cataclysmic migraine and I went up into the bleachers where it was quiet and dark and waited for my step mom to get off work so she could come and get me.
All I desired was to be left in peace.
Instead someone, for some unfathomable reason, chose that moment to slap the back of my head...hard...
And I responded by chunking her down the bleachers.
I regret doing that. I really do. I could have killed her. And it disrupted my stance on violence. But after being beaten up for the umpteenth time, not only by girls, but boys as well, and the principal and school counsellor doing nothing about it, my father gave me a gift. He told me to beat the shit out of the next person who harassed me.
Fortunately I didn't have to. I had a big step brother who did it for me. Once he put the boys in line, the girls followed suit. Finally, by my senior year, the violence and not only stopped but I was free to be left in peace. Which is what I wanted anyway.
And now, thirty something years later I come upon this verse in Heart of Compassion. It states:
Even if my peers or superiors
out of pride do everything they can to debase me
to respectfully consider them as my teachers
on the crown of my head
is the practice of a bodhisattva
It troubled me at first, because it arose in me several memories I would prefer to not recall. And some fear too. And hatred because, yes, despite my nonviolent stance (I still think that violence is never a good excuse) that I felt over the years. The decades of resentment fell away, and like Paul on the road to Damascus, the scales fell from my eyes and I could finally see clearly.
These people, no matter how harsh and cruel they were to me, were actually my teachers. They taught me a great deal about greed, hatred, stupiding and cruelty, and they, bless them, taught me not to ever be like that.
It sounds like a backhanded compliment, true, but it is also an honest truth. You can learn much by observing how others treat yourself as well as other people around you. And these angry, hate filled thoughts I used as excuses to over eat, feelings of helplessness and unworthiness fell away too. I am at peace at last. I can thank them now, at any rate. Thank them for making me a kinder more compassionate human being. I can thank them now for making me stronger and more self reliant. I can thank them most of all, for showing me a better path. The path tread by great beings in the past. And yes, I am grateful.
And I know too, that I'm under the blessings and protection of a power far greater than anything I have ever encountered, even when I was a Christian oh so many decades ago.
Am I still resentful? yes, somewhat. But I'm working through that. It is, after all, just another part of the adventure.
OM MANI PADME HUM