Since 2008 I have been writing about my work on my own perceptions. Mindfulness practice, being aware of what I think I am seeing and interceding to release the habitual ritual of reinstalling the same reality over and over, has taken me years of work.
I think in metaphors so at Christmas time I think of “reality” like a gingerbread dough that is rolled out flat on our counter. In an unseen split second, I push the cookie cutter into the dough and create the shape that I wield. My reality is a tree, or a snowman, or a snowflake. And then after I have cut away everything that is not what I realize as my truth I end up with the same shape again and again.
Life did not create the pattern of trees, or anxiety, or fear, or scacity. I did when I insisted the shape into the arising moment. Time is the element that I work within. This now I will be exactly as I have always been. This now I will carefully rearrange my situation exactly as it was in the past. And so I make an impression and push down hard. I cut away all that is what I do not believe. It is a process.
And when I yearn for more snowflakes and fewer trees I will give the casality to scarcity. Reality, the universe, the Greek Chorus of the massive shape of all is one called “them” made it happen.
The gifts that mindfulness practice have given me are multiple and unforseen. The challenge of watching my thoughts did not come about because I was seeking something. It was the result of my gift of creating tension, blame, loneliness, poverty, failed relationships.
When I was growing up there was a show called “Beat the Clock,” and I have come to understand that I have lived my life with the loud ticking of inevitable failure clicking in my ears. Hurry, grab it, make a list, do twenty-five things, prove yourself, measure yourself against everyone around you. Tick tick tick tick.
What I think I have come to understand is that I am the one who keeps recreating the perception that there is not enough: I am not enough; there is not enough money; there is not enough flow; there is not enough that I can possibly do in one life time so that others will see me as I want to be seen.
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Each day, each hour, each breath is everything. With mindfulness practice, I can sit calmly and not respond to the need to frenetically push the cookie cutter into the fabric of life to make something of it. Sometimes I just need to sit and see that the flat slab of what I think is reality is a misperception.
The distant view.
We are each in a frenetic race with our own minds. I am coming to see that existence is not about pushing as hard as we can to try to fill the hole inside. Constantly chasing a sense of being one of the anointed ones leaves us simply deepening our own sense of apprehended undeserving.
Running changes nothing.
The irony is that the harder I ran the more stuck in place I became.
Maybe there is no need for cookie cutters; or knowing; or pushing; or competition. Maybe there is just learning. Now that makes me feel really Christmasy.