Four Points of Reflection

Time spent in idle chit chat

I am seeing a pattern of idle chit chat at work... I vent with a co-worker about shared frustrations in our department. I chat with my boss about early childhood education options for her newborn. I answer my cell phone when an ex-boyfriend calls. Another five minutes of small talk. This morning, one of my college buddies called to tell me about her camping trip. After getting the details, I update her on where things stand for my daughter and her father. We talk about other people's relationships. We talk about the dangers of rushing into marriage and other hazards related to love. This evening I chat with another girlfriend. She calls with news about one of the men in her life. Neither one of us know what to do with the news, so we chat about other things.

Particular resistance(s) to my practice

My alarm goes off at 5:00 am. I really need to get up at five, but this morning it is difficult. I sleep in a bit and get out of bed at 6:20. It usually takes about forty minutes to finish my morning practice, but I decide to do it anyway. I have a perpetual late pattern, so I decide that if I'm going to be late this morning, I might as well get my practice in.

Everything felt rushed. I started out doing bows instead of prostrations because my thighs are still in pain... overworked. I bow fifty times then switch to prostrations. I get through thirty-five, then I switch back to bows. I end on my knees, though. I'm happy because I didn't think I would be able to do a single full prostration this morning. I manage to prostrate despite the discomfort. I don't feel like I'm killing myself, quite the contrary. I need to get back into the habit of exercise. Acknowledging fully the spiritual nature of prostrations, the deeper meaning, my body doesn't let me forget that there is a physical nature too... I am working muscles that are under worked. I am getting my cardiovascular system pumped. I remind myself to be grateful instead of my usual typical response... being hard on myself, hating my current physical condition.

I sit. It is already 6:40 when I begin. I think about how behind schedule I am this morning. I didn't wake up my daughter yet. I still have to shower and get dressed. I'm late, I'm late, I'm late. I start the timer and ring the bell three times. Again, fifteen minutes into sitting, I'm restless. I want to get up. Everything is falling asleep. I'm late. I peek at the timer. There are still over five minutes to go. I keep sitting. A few minutes later my bedroom door opens. I lose my seat completely. My daughter comes in. "Why aren't you getting dressed," she asks. I realize my time is up. I was jolted out of my meditative space when the door opened. I bow to Buddha and rise to start my day.

What troubled me most today

I feel incomplete. An ex-boyfriend called this afternoon while I was working. I avoid personal calls when I'm sitting at my desk, so I don't say much. I listen. He has been thinking about me. He invites me to call him later. I say that I will.

Our relationship ended abruptly last year. We had been dating for several months. He had so many wonderful qualities. He was family-oriented. He really cared about my daughter and wanted to include her in our activities. He found fun things for us to do together. He was the first man I ever allowed to get that close to my daughter, the first man I was openly in relationship with in her presence. She loved it. She loved him. I did too.

Things fall apart. Months pass before I learn of his past problems with drugs and alcohol. A few personal setbacks later, I realize he has no coping skills. He can't go through life sober. He disappears. I know he is in rehab, at least I hope that is where he is. Months pass and I am single again. I try to get used to it, but my heart is broken. Then he calls to explain.

All of my fantasies about a life with this man are beyond shattered. This, I acknowledge, is a deal breaker for me. I have to protect my daughter from this. I have to move on.

That was a year ago. We have spoken to each other every three to four months or so, but hadn't seen each other at all until last week. A flood of emotions hit me when I saw him. I realize that there are still strong feelings there on both sides, but I remain hesitant, vigilant. I can't go back there.

But I'm conflicted. I remember the good times. I want to believe that the substances are no longer an issue. I know I'm fantasizing when I indulge those kinds of thoughts. I think that we should learn to be friends. I want to support him in his sobriety. I know if he is ever to kick his habit, he will need the support of good friends... preferably new friends that are not associated with drugs or alcohol in any way. Then I wonder about whether or not friendship is even feasible right now. There is too much stuff flying through the air. There is too much as yet unsaid.

What made me happy today

Before I could run out of the house this morning, my daughter jumped up from the breakfast table and gave me a giant hug and kiss. It made my day,