Is it boring to report on a flawless day? Or to realize all days might be flawless? That it's simply a matter of mind?
This photo, "the crossing," is where my son and I meet with our dogs on a Saturday morning - he living on one side of the river, and I, on the other. Always, with this child of mine, do I have a sense of well being.
For most of my life - since I can remember - I have sought this feeling of being loved. I have mostly sought it in other people and that has been my downfall, at least with men. I have, since childhood, consistently misinterpreted male feelings towards me, mistaking friendship, lust, greed, and all manner of desires, for true love.
My romantic sense of the way things should be has always gotten in the way of being able to perceive things as they are. But, I'm here to report, a shift may be in the air.
I have been practicing meditation, which, almost imperceptibly, illuminates the fluctuating parts and pieces of my body and soul: thoughts, emotions, aches and pains, sensations of satisfaction, etc. The practice, in concert with teachings and contact with others on the path to understanding, is gradually bringing me to sanity.
Sanity, I believe, is the ability to live in the world with complete awareness and maintain an attitude of humility, joy, and wonder. That means you cannot live in fantasy, but neither do you rule out miracles.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I have had a sense of well being for two days in a row - and not because of a man. I think it is simply me - being exhausted from the highs and lows of extreme self-consciousness - gradually settling into equanimity.
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