Join me for my weekly practice, Through the Glass Backwards. The title of this series came from my former commute into work, when I took the light rail downtown. Even though I tend to get motion sick easily, I usually ended up facing backwards, watching as the city slipped by. Now that I work from home, these vignettes will be a 200 word glimpse of things I see and I am fortunate enough to see, but not necessarily from the light rail window.
It’s time for sitting practice. The wind has been blowing around the building all day. I hear the trees’ branches, things being knocked all around. In our back bedroom, I see and hear the plastic on the window being sucked in, blow back out.
The bell gongs. Breathing in. Breathing out. I keep being distracted by the wind, its howling. Let me in. I will destroy you. I will change everything you know. The trees become branches down on the cars or coming through a window. The churning grinding sound outside, the teeth of the wind. The room I’m in is nothing but shadows.
Breathing in. Breathing out.
I feel my heart rate rise with these thoughts. I notice the acing, notice my body and my jaw have clenched. What am I protecting myself against? It is simply the wind. What stories am I telling myself, getting caught in the spiral of fear as I do nothing but sit on my cushion and breathe?
I allow myself a moment. Close my eyes. I open them again, see the sun has come out. Hear the wind, without story. Nothing outside has changed. Only my view.
There is always movement, always change.