Are you one of those kinds of people in which an idea sticks in the back of your mind, quietly, like a shadow, biding its time, until it whomps you upside the ego with a big ol' reality stick?
In an earlier post, where I was asked to describe myself and I did, mahala
noted, "I love that, asked to describe yourself, you wrote about the way your mind works." And I thought, yeah, that's about right, I'm a cerebral person, I already know I think too much and do too little. It was a good insight.
The comment stuck in my head, hiding in the bushes, waiting for me to graze, ready to pounce. And, at 4 AM, it did.
OK, it didn't pounce, it just stood up and whacked me on the ear. "Isn't it odd that your greatest pain comes to the place where you spend most of your time?"
Then it whacked me on the other ear (merciless thoughts!). "What have you been missing?"
Because here it was, 4 AM, and I'd been awake for an hour, tossing and turning and trying to think my way back to sleep. I'd tried relaxation techniques and breathing techniques and they hadn't worked. And, I had a respectable headache.
"What have you been missing?"
I let the other senses in. I could hear Karen breathing. I could feel the warmth of the blankets, the flannel on my arms and bare feet. I could smell Karen's breath next to me. There was an odd metallic taste in my mouth. I could see odd patterns before my eyes. There was an electric hum from something in the room. There was a silence from outside. Karen turned over in her sleep, and twitched a few times. (I didn't know she did that!) The water heater came on; there was the rush of the furnace; there was the tock! of the furnace after it shut off and cooled. My breath was cool in my nose, throat, into my lungs. There was pain in my head, and in my legs. When I exhaled there was a slight sound of the air against the pillow. A faint glow from the clock lit the room. Kane came into the bedroom, his toenails tic-tic-tic on the hardwood floor, I could hear him look at us on the bed, and then he laid down with a grunt.
Imagine, all this going on in the middle of the night!
So much for the senses, and this close to winter, when bugs and critters outside are hibernating. What a symphony the summer night must be!
I seem to recall reading somewhere that in Buddhist psychology there are six senses, the five we normally think of and thoughts. What a treat it was to give the other five a chance to chime in for a change.
Music in my head: Slow Time Kid
, Chuck Pyle