I'm
standing on the street and see my Chinese neighbor outside her house (in reality I don't have such a neighbor). There is black smoke pouring out from her kitchen. I ask her what's up and she says she was trying to make tea and it got really smokey and she wasn't sure what to do. So I offer to go inside with her and see if we can figure out the problem. She speaks to me in Chinese, or half Chinese (I can't distinguish between Mandarin and Cantonese), but I can still understand her.
Once inside, the place is dark and filthy. She has several cats and in addition to the clutter and mess of her house, there is spilled litter and kibble all over, and cat feces on the carpet. I locate the source of the smoke: she is making tea on a small hibachi barbeque, and it is smoking because there is something foreign in the coals that is burning. I carefully lift up the grill to see what's in there, and four snakes that are on fire jump out and slither rapidly through the house. In the other room I hear one of them strike and one of the cats cries out in pain. Suddenly the cat and one of the snakes are wrestling, locked in a mortal struggle. I jump up and yell, "Oh shit!" I feel the urge to flee this horrible scene, but don't because of my obligation to help my neighbor. She doesn't look alarmed that one of her cats is injured and may be dying, just sad and helpless as we watch the scene play out. I think the snake is winning because my last impression before I wake up is the cat lying on its side, breathing heavily.
M
y godmother/mother-in-law and I went to see Eckhart Tolle tonight, yes the same one of Oprah fame. We got the tickets last month before I knew he would be catapulted to stardom, which is sort of amusing. Actually everything is amusing after experiencing Eckhart Tolle. He's the fulfillment of the expression "it's so true it's funny" except it's also tragic that it's so difficult to really be here for the present moment, when that's all that ever was and will be. Everything one hopes and dreams for, to recognize us and exalt us with happiness and joy - we miss the whole thing.
Of course it's ridiculous to try to talk about it, and mad props to Eckhart for actually being able to. His complete lack of any apparent personality probably makes this so. In any case it's useless to speculate. I'm busy now breathing in and out. There are peanut M&M's on my desk. In an attempt to inject some beauty in this office where I miserably try to perform my duties, I purchased flowers yesterday at the farmer's market, and they've drunk half their water and some have opened from buds without me even seeing. But that's okay, because I'm watching now. And I'll watch and watch some more, for as long as I can until my thinking motor kicks in. There will be several more attempts for me to get this, I'm sure. But the less I think about it, the better.
M
y husband and my dog both share a wonderful quality: they are overlookers. Well, actually my dog doesn't really notice faults in the first place, but it's still an incredible feeling to walk around all flawed and damaged and imperfect, and receive pure love nonetheless.
It's something though, to notice fault and overlook it. Murshid talks about this in his writings, but it's one of those states I'm aware of and yet struggle to make real. Even though I know pointing out a flaw won't help the situation, I can't let go sometimes of the need to be right. My poor little self is somewhere in there, crying out to be acknowledged and elevated in the state of public correctness.
From the Gayan:
By accusing anyone of his fault,
you only make him firm in it.
The reason I want to get better at this is because I've experienced the love and good feeling that grows when I know I've been wrong, and yet my husband (or others I know who practice this) did not expose me and shame me. I want to return the favor. And also, in the fake it till you make it approach, I feel the less I give weight to criticisms by voicing them, the less they will bother me in the first place. This applies to self-criticism as well.
I've asked my husband how he can be so good at this, and he replied (in my own words, as I'm sure he would express this differently) that small little personal matters, the minor creaks and groans of everyday living, just aren't that big a deal to him within the larger context of one's long life. It's quite true - traffic and lines and annoyances don't really get under his skin. He's got his eye on the prize, the big prize. And that's the one I want to eye as well.
