Whirlpools of Pain

I was talking with someone today who was really upset and wondering about how to continue feeling this way.  As I waited for the computer to turn on to write this I grabbed the guitar and thought, "I wished they played the guitar, it can be so meditative and soothing."  And then I remembered that the whole reason I started playing the ukulele, and then the guitar, was feeling crappy and this Rumi poem came to mind,

"Today

 like every other day

we wake up empty and frightened

don't open the door to the study

and begin reading

take down a musical instrument

let the beauty we love

be what we do

there are 100's of ways to kneel 

and kiss the ground."

Rumi

And I thought of the beauty that has been born, over many years from that feeling of emptiness. 

And I thought about how I started writing gratitudes, eight years ago, because I was so fed up with the lack of gratefulness in my life.

So painful feelings can sprout great beauty.

But they can also become whirlpools of pain.  Which way will it go?  When will the current be enough to change things?  When will there be sufficient rain to modify the flow of water?  And what do we do when we see another stuck within?  Most likely a bucket or a hose would not be enough.  Is there another way to disrupt the current?

Sometimes just being able to sit with them at the edge of the water is all one can offer.

Sometimes it's enough.

***

I sat and meditated for 10 minutes today.   A couple days ago I forgot for the first time in three months and I actually really missed it.  It is finally a nourishing practice for me.  Even though my mind goes bonkers, to reduce stimuli and rest in that space.  The clarity that comes with fighting the stillness, but resting in it nonetheless.  Yesterday I did a meditation on a tree (watching fall colors turn once a week - another assignment from my writing and meditation class).  So today was the first time I closed my eyes and sat in a couple days and I really needed it.

I also had a family member send me an email asking for the poem I called her with on the phone a couple weeks ago.  I couldn't recall which poem I shared, but when I asked she told me enough that I could find it to send.

I've been doing some stretches before I get out of bed the last week or so.  It's actually a really nice way to wake up.  I mean it helps to wake me up, but it also offers the luxury of staying in bed a bit longer.