To soften the well-worn path of suffering until there is no path at all— only the even ground, open and free, waiting for our first true step.
I sometimes find myself with an incomprehensible grief. It’s like a deep breach inside my chest that, if I reach all the way into, I turn myself inside out.
And when I try to figure out why it’s here, I find both a thousand reasons–and none at all.
Because when I take stock of my life, I realize all is well and good enough: I have a reasonable head count on all my loved ones, I woke up today with a forgiving body, and I am able to pay rent.
When I consider what matters most, I can’t find fault. And when I look for faults, I find nothing but problems to solve.
This grief seems to fall into the familiar category of "things that need fixing." My usual solution is to meditate with greater sincerity, consume more wisdom, and endlessly analyze why I’m not fully healed—until, inevitably, I reach the zenith of my search and book a remote cabin, convincing myself that escape is the answer.
How do you solve your feelings?
We often look to time for our betterment—believing a different mind state, a healthier body, or kinder feelings await us in some distant, perfected future. This creates an immediate separation, placing "better" always just out of reach. At best, this carrot-on-a-stick thinking reinforces our sense of lack; at worst, it becomes the very life we live.
Once we split what is, from what could be, we deny this moment its own kind of fullness, its own kind of quiet beauty, and deny that here could hold the remedy we are actually in need of most.
