Monday, June 21, 2004

I woke up this morning feeling as if I could cry, and my first thought for the day was that maybe I should, it would remove some of the toxins flooding my body and I would just go and wash my face off with cool water from time to time, with that lovely lavender soap that smells of the hills outside Grasse.

The second thought was concerning what I would like to do today, but it was bait and switch onto what I am able to do at this point. The truth is: not much. I am about as lively as one of those funny Ronald Searle cats, reclining on a sofa like a Grand Horizontal with a large box of bonbons within reach, awaiting her beau with a bouquet of flowers.

Everything is a test: of my patience, my faith, my determination, my mood, my ability to put up with, my capacity to follow through or follow up. I am waiting for an important letter from Europe more than three weeks now, it was probably mailed out with insufficient postage. I am waiting for a referral to an orthopedist from my surgeon (not my idea, he wants me to see one). . . for more than two months now. And so on and so on.

My cat fur is all matted, my tub is leaking, the sails are shredded off the mast, I am stuck with not a breath of wind and without a paddle. I keep peering through the haze of summer for a glimpse of the albatross that will promise me a landfall.

Something inside of me tells me this feeling of being out to sea is not mine, personally: I am just experiencing exactly what the rest of the world is experiencing. It is the feeling of being on the brink of something, similar to the strange feeling of unease one might experience during the buildup of a summer thunderstorm. From the point of view of quantum consciousness, I am just picking up on feelings and anxieties that do not concern me. I am just eavesdropping, in a way, on the misery of the whole world, and I am registering all this distress in my own body and mind.

There is nothing I can do about it to affect anything except to chant Nam Myoho Renge Kyo. This much I can do, because it does not require being able to walk or stand, and it does not require help from anybody.

So, from a small feeling of my ego, my little personal horizon of pain and limitation, I was brought to take the step which should have been my first and would have been, had I been dealing with a full deck.

That is the mercy of the Buddha.
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