The game

Play the game for the sake of the game. But what is the game? Life. Each moment is a moment of the game and it is not whether you win or lose, for in the end we all meet a similar end to this life as we know it. It is the moment.

How easy it is from an armchair to espouse such knowledge. And yet, all I notice in this moment is the quiet and I want to try to hide from it. I busy myself with projects, listen to audio books, watch movies and sometimes I even attempt to write. Why indeed do I not choose to go for a walk? Or perhaps to vacuum? Why not paint the chair or do something else of value? Because none of those actions are any more skillful - except having a clean house and healthy body. It is not the action the counts, but whether we are acting with a full heart. Og Mandino in "The World's Greatest Salesman" I believe considers this as the message in the first scroll, "I will greet this day with love in my heart."

Usually it is the big dramas that give us expression. The joy in new life, the sorrow in death. Arguments brings opportunity to love others who support our importance. Yet in every moment there is always another possibility. Sitting in boredom in a chair, there is the opportunity to open one's heart on a page and spread words with love.

As Rod Stryker says, it is not until the pain of our awareness in any moment becomes so great that we choose to move away from it, that we are stimulated into action, (or something to that effect). But it then becomes a choice whether I run in fear toward the next task or embrace it with love.

More of what you do want.

Text - "2 Spot"
Reply - "See u there."

I headed out from the CWA conference, trying to navigate the best route to The Spot Bouldering gym in Boulder, Colorado. I have a little intrepidation, but I am feeling more confident after not falling en route the day before at Momentum. Besides, it's my friend Mike. After all the tumbles my life has taken, I am quite certain he will not be a harsh judge and will only want my own success.

I arrive, no Mike. I chat with the woman at the counter. Eventually deciding something must be up. I read the text again. Oh, maybe he meant 2pm. I decide to climb anyway. I wander aimlessly, making up my own routes and ignoring the tape. Not quite ready yet to see just what I can and cannot still do. I get caught up watching these guys trying to send projects in a couple of tries. I can see what they need to do, but I say nothing. I could do that when I was a known climber, now I am just some chick in her 40's climbing at The Spot. Eventually I try the same grade. I can do it first try.... "not bad," I think.

Eventually I head back to the conference and know I will return for 2pm.

Round 2: Climbing with Mike is like ordering a great meal where we will share the plates. We stand around selecting the choice things from the menu. I can already feel the earlier session in my forearms. The pump coming fast. My head still isn't into topping out on these 14 foot walls. Baby steps. Eventually I am laughing at my own lack of power to press through a mantel on a huge sloper and reach out high and left for a perhaps not-so-bad hold. I am gassed. The hands will not sustain the intention I have for them. Time to head back to the conference.

Man... I have got to do that more often.

Being my own lover

This week seemed particularly challenging. I seemed to be on the wrong side with a number of people and that always challenges me. I want to be seen. I want to be acknowledged. I want to be loved. I don't think I am any different than those I seem to disagree or disappoint.

This morning as I practiced, I realized, what I needed was compassion for myself. If I could not give it to me, why would anyone else think to. I was a doing machine this week, doing all the things I was responsible to do. Go to work, dot the i's and cross the t's. I was not allowing myself to be a being who was moving through grief from a personal loss. Today as I luxuriate in the freedom of not doing, there is space to realize I need to offer myself compassion, and it doesn't help coming from anyone else. I am the only one who can truly know how I feel and what it means to me and how to continue to move forward without my friend. And really, I am the only one I can trust to not leave me. Eventually everyone else will or I will leave them.

I can offer myself kindness, love and nourishment from the place of a full cup, I then can offer it to others, even if it won't help them as much as any love and compassion they offer themselves. After all, we are all just small blades of grass struggling to survive in rocky terrain.

This is the foundation of freedom. This is seed of fulfillment. This is fully being.

This moment

I am struggling this morning. I did not want to get up. I did not want to get on my cushion. I continually ran the tape of Tour's last breaths, holding him in my arms and the sadness.

I want things to be different. I chose instead to journal. My heart is full of a variety of emotions... grief, frustration and a little resentment, and even relief. There is a constant stream of 'what's next' going on in the background creating a hum of anxiousness. A desire to write something important. A desire to have a more meaningful life. A desire to not live in so much solitude. A desire for distraction.

Then it occurs to me. I am sitting in outcome thinking. Of course! That is why I do not want to meditate.

I am thinking about how can I get all the things in my life that I think will make it be a good life rather than sitting in this moment realizing it is a good life. And so I am suffering.

That is excellent. I am so glad I saw that.