Alchemy

That unpleasant feeling I experience upon transitioning from rest to activity? Upon even considering it? Zounds! it is simply a clenching up against ... excitement! Hallelujah, what a discovery! What freedom I can now enjoy!

I discovered this just today ... or maybe last night. I was about to get off the couch, or get out of bed, or do my exercises. A familiar sense of dread arose: to do this thing I am going to have to power through that brief but distinctly unpleasant feeling,  that clenching, that resistance, that tightening of the throat that happens when I just think about moving. I investigated the clenching, saw if I could relax into it ... then something let go. I observed myself taking a deep breath as a pleasant tingling coursed through my body. Incredible. And repeatable.

The word alchemy comes to mind: it is as though I've turned lead into gold.

Openings

Over the past 24 hours I've discovered new bodily sensations that I'd been suppressing, and I've been opening to them. Just prior to this I had three experiences that may have set the stage for this new opening:

1. Sunday morning I heard a talk by Gil Fronsdal at the Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City. Gil was my first teacher of Vipassana meditation in 2000. Gil spoke about skillfulness in daily life. He said that one can approach one's day by trying to find, in each moment, the most skillful way to be. He said that there are different styles for this practice, suitable to different personalities: playfulness, gamification, following a set of instructions, opening wide and not-doing. He found that when he began approaching life in this way, he thought it might be draining, but instead found it energizing.

2. Monday morning I had a psychotherapy session via skype with T. During the session I felt stuck in some very young feelings.

3. Tuesday morning on the train from the airport to work, I read bits of The Power of Now over the shoulder of another passenger. It spoke of the importance of being aware of the inner body.

Yesterday evening I spent a few hours with Eric. There was friction from time to time, and I weathered it all without withdrawing. Each time I was able to open to the desire and sadness beneath the anger. I was able to stay close and become closer. I had the exciting revelation: any time I am with Eric is an opportunity to connect. I don't need him to give me attention, I don't need him to be any particular way. If his attention is elsewhere, or if he is talking about something that angers me -- all is opportunity to practice being with my own reactions. I realized afresh that when I am with him (or any person) I am constantly maneuvering to keep their attention and prevent them from being angry. What a delight to stop maneuvering!

This morning upon waking I opened to various sensations and found I was energized to arise at 6:30 even though I'd had only 6.5 hours of sleep.

The cessation of dukkha before enlightenment

On the bus home this evening I read from Philip Moffitt's "Dancing With Life". I bought this book shortly after I emerged from the Forest Refuge in November 2011 and read it cover-to-cover immediately and liked it very much. I've been picking it up again lately to read during lunch. Yesterday I was quite taken with his description of cessation and the practices that one might do regarding cessation. He suggested several subtle practices, one of which was simply to notice each moment whether one was suffering or not. He used the word cessation to refer, not only to the cessation of dukkha that occurs at the moment of path attainment, nor to the final and permanent cessation of dukkha that occurs at full enlightenment -- but also to the cessation of each individual moment of dukkha. It is inspiring to think that these are all cessation, all essentially the same experience, and that we each experience cessation countless times per day. I re-read this stuff on the bus home today and immediately began practicing it. I continued to practice it during the evening's sitting with the Extra Fancy Lotus Sisters. I experienced significant freedom with this practice: dukkha seemed less scary, perhaps because I was seeing it more clearly than usual.

Practice has been so interesting and rewarding lately. As I write this I know that I ought not to cling to how interesting and rewarding it's been. I may reach a plateau where I seem to learn nothing. I am indeed clinging to the excitement of practice now; it is hard to imagine that it will plateau. Though I ought not to cling, in some sense I cannot help clinging. All I can do is observe the clinging. Maybe that will be my meditation as I fall asleep.

Fear of leaving childhood behind

For many years I have felt fear upon waking. My coping strategy for the past few years has been to sit up in bed and do noting practice or other meditation. This is very effective at allowing the uncomfortable sensations and thoughts to pass. Affirmations can also ease the discomfort. During the first few minutes of meditation or affirmation practice, strong sensations course through my body.

The thing I don't like about these strategies is that they require me to leave the coziness and warmth of lying under the covers. I've tried many a time to do these practices while lying down, but I just don't seem to have the concentration while lying down.

Today I tried again, but made a special effort to listen to the child self. As the strong sensations arise, she says, "Don't! I don't want to wake up! I want to be asleep! I'm afraid!" I look at the sensations and notice that they are not unpleasant. They remind me of anger, fear, and desire, all at the same time. I sense that what comes to the fore is desire and that I am afraid of the desire, afraid of the repercussions of acting on it. Also when I observe the desire I experience vague images of shooting out into space very fast and then being sad that I have left my childhood behind.