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Sunday, October 22, 2006
Letting Go
I can't believe that we are already to the number 2794. That's how many U.S. soldiers have been killed in Iraq. Eighty-one have died already this month. I can't believe that Americans and Iraqis are dying every day like this. For what???
I have been fasting for 36 hours each time the number reaches another 100. I find myself resisting the idea of fasting again. I don't want to. It's such a small thing to do - nothing compared to fighting in war. It won't stop the war. But taking a day to suffer a little, and allowing that discomfort to remind me of the violence being done - well, that was my intention when I made this commitment months ago. It's just that my attachment to the comfort of a full belly is really coming up for me now
***
Standing with Women in Black yesterday, I witnessed one of those inevitable childhood experiences of life. A restaurant sits directly across the street from where we stand. Evidently a kid got a helium balloon there, because I saw a turquoise balloon take off from the parking lot. I imagined the kid feeling all disappointed that his/her balloon was flying into the sky. If this kid was like a lot of kids, he/she probably asked that his/her parents do something to get the balloon back. I experienced the sadness of having a loved, beautiful balloon flying to a place where no one can get it. The knowledge that there was no going back.
All it takes is one small break in awareness, and we let go of the balloon - NOTHING CAN FIX IT! Done.
I watched the balloon going up and up until I could no longer see it. I wondered how high they go. Do they get to a point where the change in atmosphere pops them and then they fall back to earth? Someone reading this may know the answer. I have never seen a balloon go past the window of a plane I was in. I have never been standing outside when, splat!, a dead balloon fell on my head.
Anyway, as I stood, I pondered impermanence. I thought of all of the lessons we get in impermanence as we grow up. Balloons flying away; the death of pets and loved ones, losing things... Losses can make us hold on tighter or lose trust in the safety of the world. Or they can help us appreciate whatever is before us while it's there and teach us that real freedom (not the kind that is defined by the people around us right now) is not found in holding on.
Okay, I heard myself.
Preparing to let go of my desire for a full belly, I am grateful for the food that I will eat today, and I start to release the tight hold on that balloon.
.
I have been fasting for 36 hours each time the number reaches another 100. I find myself resisting the idea of fasting again. I don't want to. It's such a small thing to do - nothing compared to fighting in war. It won't stop the war. But taking a day to suffer a little, and allowing that discomfort to remind me of the violence being done - well, that was my intention when I made this commitment months ago. It's just that my attachment to the comfort of a full belly is really coming up for me now
***
Standing with Women in Black yesterday, I witnessed one of those inevitable childhood experiences of life. A restaurant sits directly across the street from where we stand. Evidently a kid got a helium balloon there, because I saw a turquoise balloon take off from the parking lot. I imagined the kid feeling all disappointed that his/her balloon was flying into the sky. If this kid was like a lot of kids, he/she probably asked that his/her parents do something to get the balloon back. I experienced the sadness of having a loved, beautiful balloon flying to a place where no one can get it. The knowledge that there was no going back.
All it takes is one small break in awareness, and we let go of the balloon - NOTHING CAN FIX IT! Done.
I watched the balloon going up and up until I could no longer see it. I wondered how high they go. Do they get to a point where the change in atmosphere pops them and then they fall back to earth? Someone reading this may know the answer. I have never seen a balloon go past the window of a plane I was in. I have never been standing outside when, splat!, a dead balloon fell on my head.
Anyway, as I stood, I pondered impermanence. I thought of all of the lessons we get in impermanence as we grow up. Balloons flying away; the death of pets and loved ones, losing things... Losses can make us hold on tighter or lose trust in the safety of the world. Or they can help us appreciate whatever is before us while it's there and teach us that real freedom (not the kind that is defined by the people around us right now) is not found in holding on.
Okay, I heard myself.
Preparing to let go of my desire for a full belly, I am grateful for the food that I will eat today, and I start to release the tight hold on that balloon.
.
posted by Carol at 10:30 AM
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