Spacious Solidarity Blog: Day 60

My day starts with putting the laundry away. A pair of leggings is inside out and the lazy part of me wants to put them away like that.

Then another part of me steps in. Wait a minute. A future version of myself will want to wear those leggings, will pull them out of the drawer, and will have to turn them right side out before putting them on. Let’s do her a favour and do it now, so she doesn’t have to do it later.

I turn the leggings right side out, fold them neatly, place them in the drawer and close it.

No more than five minutes later I am getting dressed, thinking about what I’d like to wear. I’d like to wear those leggings.

I take them out of the drawer and put them on. They feel silky smooth as I pull them up one leg, and then the other. I say thank you to the past version of myself from 5 minutes ago who was thoughtful enough to turn them right side out for me.

This is how I get myself to do things when I feel lazy. And it works most of the time. It also often involves my partner.

They’ll be grateful I’ve put the dishes away when they come to do the next lot of washing up (or I’ll be grateful, depends on who gets to the sink of piled up dishes first, and is feeling generous).

They’ll appreciate I’ve hung my towel up on a hook so they can drape theirs over the heater, which I know they prefer. They’ll be grateful that I’ve made the bed when they go to get on their next Zoom work call in the bedroom.

It really is the little things.

I do a bit of work and then it’s time for my morning Zoom session with the retreat I’m leading this week. It’s the most challenging part of the retreat, turning towards afflictive mental states and pinning them down long enough to take a good look and see them for what they truly are.

Greed, hatred, delusion, pride and jealousy are like spells to be broken. Usually and without awareness we fall under their enchantment and act them out. Taken over by them we step right into their stories, wearing karmic grooves of the habits that bind us to suffer deeper and deeper.

But with awareness and love liberation becomes possible. In a clear, steady mind the root of a these metal states can emerge, we can feel into the contraction in the body, the raw energy that’s always present before identification or suppression, and allow the sensations there to move and change in their own way, in their own time.

All this is possible but we have to believe it is possible and we have to trust in the power of awareness. Can we trust that awareness is enough?

In the afternoon I do a bit of writing until it’s time for my last run of meditation reviews. Another lot of tender sharing. A lot is surfacing for folks, which means the retreat is biting. Confusion, anxiety, distraction, overwhelm.

Yet it’s all being witnessed in the space of awareness and there is curiosity there. It’s moving, the level of awareness with which folks are sharing their experience and their process. I have confidence in people’s capacity to navigate through it.

After reviews it’s leftover Spanish tortilla and roasted veg for dinner and then our daily constitutional.

We head back to Hackney Downs. On the way I notice a bush we pass on this almost daily pilgrimage has started to flower, bright pink and petite. I’ve become so interested in the phases of flowering things this spring, I almost habitually take a snap. I have to stop myself from moving on too quickly to actually look at and appreciate the new growth.

It’s been pretty cold all week, but this evening, with the sun shining and the air a comfortable temperature, it feels the whole neighbourhood’s come out to enjoy the park.

As we cross the orchard into the football field in the southwest corner of the park I see something dark in the grass. As we get closer I notice that it’s a glove. Not a blue latex one, but a fancy black one, with leapard print on the back.

Someone will really be missing that glove, I think. I contemplate picking it up but end up leaving it there because of coronavirus and also because it’s only one glove, of no use without its pair.

As we round the corner between our favourite spot and the next field, we notice that some of the roses are starting to bloom. There are two big, round beds of roses, one ringed with lavender, where the roses probably have a week or two before they open. The other coming to life, with big pink blossoms on full display.

We continue walking until we reach the second football field. There an unusual sight during lockdown is unfolding; a highly organized football match of Black youth and young adult men.

One whole team is wearing yellow pinnies and they’ve got colourful disks marking the boundaries of the game. But most striking is the size of their goal nets, which are literally no bigger than a conventional oven.

We stop to watch them play for a while which is as exciting as any football match in my mind. I tell my partner it feels like a whole lot of waiting for something to happen.

They don’t hesitate to tell me that American football is no better. When I tell them I don’t watch American football, they astutely remind me that my favourite sport is baseball. Touché!

When we get home I get on the phone with a friend. After I tell her everything I’ve been up to the last couple of weeks she says that I am the only person she knows who has actually become more busy during lockdown.

She says it while laughing, saying only you could turn lockdown into an opportunity to do more.

It’s true and it’s also great. Somehow I’ve managed to transition from six months of cancer diagnosis, surgery and radiotherapy into a lockdown during a global pandemic to a state of thriving.

Somehow I’m doing exactly what I wanted to do, writing and teaching, without having willed any of it to happen. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, following my sources of inspiration, listening deeply to the currents within, and letting things unfold.

After talking with my friend I spend the rest of the evening writing until it’s time for bed. As my head hits the pillow I notice that I’m tired but it’s the good kind of tired.

Life is good, even while I continue to hold the grief for my trip to the USA, which I was supposed to leave for next Thursday.. Even while there is so much uncertainty about what the future holds. Even when I don’t know when I’ll see my family again or where next month’s income will come from.

Life is good, even while there is extreme suffering, which I can also be aware of and hold close in my heart. I can be grateful for my conditions, commit to using my privilege for the benefit of all being, and enjoy the process.

Life is inherently good.