This morning I woke up with a heart full of sorrow and a head full of sad, sad dreams. Dreams about the past. Longings. Things forever out of my reach. Forever missed. I remembered below poem composed by Matty Weingast based on one of the texts from Pali Canon (“The First Free Women: Poems of the Early Buddhist Nuns”).
After my morning coffee, I went to sit and stare at my thoughts and the back of my eyelids for an hour. I try to meditate more. An hour in the morning and an hour in the evening. I am working towards 3 hours per day and more. No, I am not flexing. I just want to see what will happen. I want to see what’s behind this tangled mess of useless thoughts. I don’t force myself. I actually enjoy it. And my family have no issue with their dad/husband disappearing like that during the day.
Here is the poem. This is how I meditate.
UTTAMA – GREAT WOMAN
For years I couldn’t sleep.
Most nights I’d throw off the covers
and take long runs through the dark.
When sleepless nights come
to tear you into little pieces,
rise to meet the day as a tree rises to meet the axe—
as a scalp bows to meet the blade—
as sparks from a dying fire
reach out to meet the darkness—
as all of our bones
someday fall softly down
to meet earth.
When you stand,
send your roots down between the stones.
When you walk,
walk like a skeleton walking to its grave.
When you lie down,
lie down like a blown-out candle
being put back in a drawer.
When you sit,
My sisters, sit like you are dead already.
How could this world possibly
give you what you’re looking for
when it’s so busy
Don’t move until you see it.