Quarantined with Love

Every day I wake up, I light three white candles. I then spark some holy Tibetan incense, wrap myself in a traditional prayer shawl, grab my mala and ground down. I take a cleansing breath slowly shut my eyes and think. Thoughts rush to me like a moth to an autumn fire pit. I do my best to just sit in my present moment, and when I have trouble, I go back to something that I heard some years ago, “Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.” When I first heard this I hadn’t the faintest clue who could have possibly said these wise words. Upon a mix of intense searching, and lazy intuitive reading at the bookstore I worked at, I read these words again, and cane to know who H.H. the 14th Dalai Lama was, what he stood for, and his mission for all beings in this life. It’s an understatement to say his thought process amazes me. My mind was overwhelmed by the simplicity of hiss rationale. I had found a sort of mentorship that helped me slow down, and pacify the innerworkings off my mind. Nevertheless, I still get caught up, unable to get passed myself. Mixed up in drama, stress, or something I needed to let go. In those moments, I think of him... laughing. This picture embodies his authenticity, an authentic nature that helps me to smile, breathe and not take it all too seriously.

With that being said, I have had my fair share of suffering. Which for a long time was my go to excuse for everything that went wrong on my life. I was raised in a religious family, that I learned the remedial amount of information needed to know that I was to do as I was told, pray every day and apply this dogma to my world... in order to not be punished or dammed to a place no one wanted to end up. This became more and more confusing as I got older, and within the confines of how the worlds’ media cycles allow us to perceive the truth, I became what I liked to call a realist. The truth hurt me, and recently within the four walls I am stuck in here lately, have revisited that hurt, that worry, and someone that I look to, that is as flawed, honest, real, and equally compassionate is the author of a book called “Buddist Bootcamp” Timber Hawkeye. I typically read his tweets everyday, his twitter profile chills in my favorites, so when I need to remember that we all have eccentricities, weak moments, bad attitudes.... those are the beautiful things that make us who we are, and better us on the path. Just the other day I was home-coaching my twelve year old little. She is terribly stressed about her ability to succeed with the lack of attention and interaction she has with her teachers, friends and even enemies at “real” school. In the midst off tears and hugs I thought back to a Twitter Post that Timber posted not to long before this hysterical conversation with her took place. I told her, “Stop expecting perfection from others, it’s not like you can offer it in return” . I continued to tell her that this is a work in progress for all of us ... together. She cannot expect all of her classmates to be on time for google classroom, not can they expect her took get every answer right, or read a book as fast as they can read a book.

I definitely have faith that happiness, joy and prosperity is real. I am not sure what the world, our unbelievable home is spelling out to us in these desperate moments. I have more than one person close to me that is sick, I am personally so immune-compromised I cannot leave my home or even think about being around some of the closest people to me. I see the desperation all around, on the news, in social media, and word of mouth.

I had a good friend tell me the other day, that I was One of tge few people she would speak to because she knows she will either smile or laugh when she gets to talk to me, and with all the disparity in her family and life she is choosing to abstain from the negative. When I head that, a small smile pulled up the corners of my mouth. I thought, huh maybe all these “silly affirmations” and “small prayers” and become wholesome and co͏me to fruition. Then I sit and take the time to listen to the “Live Awake” podcast. A favorite of mine since 2015, I have been listening to Sarah Bondin. Her voice sounds like homemade vanilla ice cream should taste, and she effortlessly imparts a blanket of kindness over my weary mind. The meditation supplies the suggestion that I should never stop feeding my love.

So I sit back down tonight, as I do every morning. I connect with the space that sits just inbetween my mind and heart. I wrap myself up in the love that I am quarantined with, ground down and plant as many seeds of gratitude U possibly can, till my eyes close and I fall asleep.