Friday, October 20, 2006

Where I Work on a Meditation

This is a useful meditation to use when you are full of anger. We don’t care why you are angry and you need not justify it to anybody. This is just a meditation that you can do when you are angry.

Now, the first thing to do is to read a very short piece, a prayer or supplication of sorts to your Higher Power; God, Goddess or whoever that might be.

Help me to let go of the anger I’ve been feeling. Help me to, once again, reconnect and have a better understanding of me. My anger is masking something else and I don’t know what it is. Help me to understand. Help me to allow the assholes in my life to be the happy assholes they want to be. I can’t change them. Help me to understand that. Help me to stop attracting these people into my life. I swear I’ve learned enough.

I’m sorry…start over? Well, we were going to wait until you were done. Do you really want to let go of your anger? No, I don’t. It makes me happy. We think it makes you sad. You’re crying right now. This is why I’m a mean secretary. Right? Right. This hurts. Yes, I know.

I’m so afraid. I’m 51 years old. I guess I like people when they start being about 27 years old. You don’t like your managers. Well, you have a point there. I was making a pretty long shit list yesterday.

I had a dream last night that we were in terrible financial trouble. DeeDude was afraid. He’s never afraid. When he does get afraid then I know it’s deep doodoo. I was strong in the dream. I told him it would be okay even when I knew it would be hard. We’ve done this before.

I’m just constantly worried. I’m constantly in pain. I’m constantly in a horrible mood. It’s been awhile since I was just happy.

On the plus side, I’m losing weight. Slowly. But, I’m losing weight. At this rate I’ll fit into a normal sized coffin when I die.

You are in a bad mood.

You couldn’t tell?

You know what your mother would say, don’t you? No. She’d take you in her arms and tell you it was okay. She’d just hold you. No matter how old you are you will always be her daughter. And, even though she has passed she will always be your mother.

Should we work on this meditation another time? No, we can continue on with it if you like. I’m sorry. About what? What in the world do you need to be sorry about? Because I’m a shitty channel. I don’t see that you are. I can’t concentrate. Well, be quiet.

When you are in a deep and dark hole and it seems hopeless that you could ever climb out of it, it is important to remember that you can climb. Find or make the hand holds and foot steps that you need. If you cannot imagine yourself climbing out of the hole imagine that you are hewing steps that circle it bringing you ever closer to the surface with each time you go around. As you set your foot a step appears for you to put it.

Part of this is to believe or to pretend that you are where you are supposed to be and if that place is to climb out of a hole of depression, then, fighting it is harder than doing something about it. Granted, there are still issues that you will have the opportunity to address, but we would say that, for now, it is not as bad as you think.

So, imagine that you are climbing out of your hole. Imagine, if you need it, a hand rail that holds you closer to the wall as you circle around and around. Look up occasionally to see the light at the top of the hole. Imagine that as you get nearer to the surface you are hearing sounds from outside. Those are birds. Bird song such as you might hear first thing in the morning before anybody else is up. Birds in the trees outside welcoming the day and calling to each other. You hear this bird song as you come closer to the surface.

Now, you can smell the morning air. It smells different than the night smells. It is the smell of vegetation opening to the sun. It is the smell of freshness. It is the smell of new. It is the smell of a brand new day. Hope. Springs. Eternal.

As you rise above the surface of your hole you see a flat plain before you. There are no houses. There are a few trees. You are quite alone. The grass glistens in the morning light with the dew of the night clinging still. The light silvers it. You set one foot into the grass. You set your other foot there too. You walk away from the hole in the ground. There is a tree nearby and you walk toward it. In the tree is the bird you heard. The bird sings still and is not alarmed by your approach. You do not feel like an intruder. You feel, instead, as if you belong here.

At the base of the tree are some flowers. These are tiny little flowers, just poking up through the earth; crocuses, yellow ones and purple ones. You put your hand out to steady yourself on the tree. You can feel the bark of this tree under your hand. Steady. Solid.

Now, you hear a chittering. Talking. Gopher talk. Prairie dog talk. You look over your shoulder and you see a small prairie dog sitting upright looking at you. He is talking to the birds about you. He is talking to you. You don’t understand what he is saying, but you smile.

And, then you can feel the warmth of the sun as it dapples through the leaves of the tree on you.

There is no need to move. There is no need to hurry.

Thanks. Are we done yet? Do you want us to be done? I’m feeling a lot better now. It is a step.

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