“No revolution in outer things is possible without prior revolution in one's inner way of being. Whatever change you aspire to … must be preceded by a change in heart.” (yet another I Ching translation)
"I'm starting a revolution" I say, while pacing the dining room.
Tesia is sitting at her desk, illustrating."Oh great! I've been waiting for this." She turns and smiles at me. "Will it be televised?"
As the oppressive New England February was coming to it's end, I was ready to put an end to the internal oppressor. I made up my mind to find my way back to to being me. The fear that had crept in and taken stronghold had to go. I would usurp. I just had to figure out how.
Little acts of civil disobedience had already taken place. I started this blog. I drove past the liquor store countless times without buying a jug of whiskey, and opted to return to the casual one or two beers here-and-there. I was meditating, taking yoga classes, going for long walks, and even though a cold stole my voice for most of the month, I was still working on songs and playing guitar. My virtual farm, an endless source of time-waisting, was left unharvested and withered.
Then one night, February 27th, to be precise, these and other little sparks lit a small fire. I felt warm, and damnit I was going to stay warm.
"No. I don't think it'll be televised, but I'm sure it'll be all over facebook." I smirk at Tesia. I am still wandering the dining room looking for something. "I've learned to be a little more guarded while feeling vulnerable. I'm feeling vulnerable, and I will not let the TV crews in."
I continue to look about, but my pace is slower than usual. More focused. My eyes do not dart, but steadily move from one surface to another.
"I've lost my phone again. But right now, instead of hating myself for losing my phone for a second time this evening, I am instead going to begin with this revolution. I am not going to go through the typical patterns of being mean to myself while pacing around ineffectively 'looking' for my phone. I'm just going to be calm. I'm just going to breath and say 'yes, i've lost my phone again, and it's okay. it's here somewhere.' Because, in actuality, losing my phone does not make me a fucking idiot, and thinking what a fucking idiot I am certainly wont help me find my phone. Being right here, right now, will."
Within just a few seconds my phone is in my hand.
"I like this." Tesia says. She's helped me look for more than a few missing objects. She's also been right here with me, a sister, through a very different and challenging time of my life.
"I like it too"
---
The next morning I wake up with the same cold I've had for weeks. The back of my nose is painfully clogged, my throat hurts, my head is pounding with sinus pressure and my body is rejecting the idea of waking, and also rejecting the idea of falling back to sleep.
Whatever dreams I had that night are chased out of my head by a stampede of soldiers, or thoughts, rather, designed to keep me "safe". "Why didn't I take more vitamins?" "I should have bought a humidifier." "I killed my own immune system, if I could just learn to freaking SLEEP." "Am I going to be able to work tomorrow?" "I'm so sad that I missed my Grandma and cousins' birthday party." "I miss so many things because I'm sick." "I'm so unreliable" and on and on. An army of thoughts, marching in, relentless.
I take a deep breath. In. Out. I remember that there is a revolution beginning.
It's Sunday morning. I can hear Tesia making tea. I keep breathing. I am here.
One of my dearest friends, Nathan, leads a Buddhist Sangha from time to time. I remember him referencing a mystical man, Mooji, during one of these Sangha's. He teaches that your thoughts are like migrant workers. They are not self-employed. You can choose to pick them up and give them work, or just notice that they are there and pass on by.
Breathe In. Breathe Out. And...here I am.
If you buy a piece of land, and decide to build a house, the context of the land, in your mind, transforms from just land to "where the house will be." The trees, grass, shubs, dirt, rocks, and little life forms turn into "plot." They are "not-yet-the-house-and-yard."
One morning, not too long ago, I woke up and said, "What a mess I've made," and BAM, just like that, simple objects and happenings transformed to mess. I said "I'm going to simplify" and then everything occurred as incredible tangled and complicated. This is an old pattern. It's just now the slightly updated version, fit for 2010.
If you dig down deep inna that soul of yours and find sutten you'd forgotten to cook up and now it's all rotten, take that shit out and compost it.
Breathe In. Breathe Out.
I love how songs will just come to mind like little gifts, sometimes they're my own, sometimes they're someone else's. A lyric line comes to mind, and it's just perfect.
"You know they never really owned you. You just carried them around with you. Then one day you put them down and found your hands were free."
I stretch. I sigh. I drink the water at my bedside table. I slowly get up and walk calmly to the dining room, where Tesia is already up and dressed and creating at her desk.
"Spring has sprung early. There are new beginnings all over the place, Tesia."
She smiles. "Is it part of the revolution?"
Tesia has been having her own revolution. She is my house mate, my sister, my partner in crime. We are the resistance, which comes in no resistance. We are sharpening our "Love Warrior" swords. We are out to make a difference in this world, and we know that begins right in our very own selves. Let the cynics scowl. Let the fearful talk and whisper. Let the soldiers stand there, their weapons useless against our indifference.
Freedom does not actually exist in the act of putting everything down and walking away. It exists simply in knowing that one truly could. When all the weights and ties are seen for exactly what they are- imaginary- the incredible space that is created leaves so much room for love. There's no need to run or revolt. This is me. That's the world.
This is the revolution. It's happening now, while nothing is happening.
"Oh, this is absolutely the revolution, T. We should have banner."
"Yes. We should totally make a banner," Tesia laughs.
One of my dearest friends, Nathan, leads a Buddhist Sangha from time to time. I remember him referencing a mystical man, Mooji, during one of these Sangha's. He teaches that your thoughts are like migrant workers. They are not self-employed. You can choose to pick them up and give them work, or just notice that they are there and pass on by.
Breathe In. Breathe Out. And...here I am.
If you buy a piece of land, and decide to build a house, the context of the land, in your mind, transforms from just land to "where the house will be." The trees, grass, shubs, dirt, rocks, and little life forms turn into "plot." They are "not-yet-the-house-and-yard."
One morning, not too long ago, I woke up and said, "What a mess I've made," and BAM, just like that, simple objects and happenings transformed to mess. I said "I'm going to simplify" and then everything occurred as incredible tangled and complicated. This is an old pattern. It's just now the slightly updated version, fit for 2010.
If you dig down deep inna that soul of yours and find sutten you'd forgotten to cook up and now it's all rotten, take that shit out and compost it.
Breathe In. Breathe Out.
I love how songs will just come to mind like little gifts, sometimes they're my own, sometimes they're someone else's. A lyric line comes to mind, and it's just perfect.
"You know they never really owned you. You just carried them around with you. Then one day you put them down and found your hands were free."
I stretch. I sigh. I drink the water at my bedside table. I slowly get up and walk calmly to the dining room, where Tesia is already up and dressed and creating at her desk.
"Spring has sprung early. There are new beginnings all over the place, Tesia."
She smiles. "Is it part of the revolution?"
Tesia has been having her own revolution. She is my house mate, my sister, my partner in crime. We are the resistance, which comes in no resistance. We are sharpening our "Love Warrior" swords. We are out to make a difference in this world, and we know that begins right in our very own selves. Let the cynics scowl. Let the fearful talk and whisper. Let the soldiers stand there, their weapons useless against our indifference.
Freedom does not actually exist in the act of putting everything down and walking away. It exists simply in knowing that one truly could. When all the weights and ties are seen for exactly what they are- imaginary- the incredible space that is created leaves so much room for love. There's no need to run or revolt. This is me. That's the world.
This is the revolution. It's happening now, while nothing is happening.
"Oh, this is absolutely the revolution, T. We should have banner."
"Yes. We should totally make a banner," Tesia laughs.
*Yes, I quoted Ani, and yes, we know the banner is not grammatically correct in any language
I love this!
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