Is there such thing?
The concept both appeals to me and makes me squirm. If there is a right way to live--if the question has been asked and answered; if there exist documentation of tests and surveys and proofs that make it plain for all to know; if a guide or manual has been produced as a reference for the diligent aspirant--then, it would seem, that peace on earth is possible.
if all of the above is true
why aren't we all committed to living the right way? Is the guide book only available to a select few? Is it hard to find? Hard to understand? Full of typos?
Do the particulars of "right living" vary from person to person, situation to situation, historical period to historical period?
I watched (and shared) this video on FaceBook the other day. It demonstrates, in my opinion, one possible illustration of what it looks like to "live right." Since watching it the first time, I have asked myself over and over, what stands between me and choosing to do what Mr. Krishnan did? With a clear sense of right living, what gets in my way and prevents me from acting on what I know?
This is a deep and lengthy contemplation.
In this moment, I can see that worry about what happens after making the decision is a complicating factor: two weeks and 7 hours after stepping into a radical departure from my usual life....what then? After the making decision, if I should find myself with a broken bone or facing an armed bandit or standing in freezing rain in a town where no one knows my name....what then? Might I regret my decision and long to return to the relative comfort of my "wrong living"?
04 February 2011
It's always been one of the most uncomfortable feelings for me.
Reaching, extending, reaching....repeated attempts to make contact
no response. no argument. no overt rejection.
Things just don't work out for us to connect. Over and over again.
and the niggling thought-feeling begins to snake its way through my guts and flutter against the back of my neck...
"I'm pushing. S/He doesn't want to spend time with me."
It's not a stabbing pain like a broken heart; it's more like a nagging discomfort, like hunger.
In this wee hour of the morning, I am insomniac, trying to suss out an equation or maxim of some kind--to relieve the current discomfort and point a way forward. Something like the "If you haven't worn it in X months, get rid of it" advice of clutter consultants.
What is "X" in the realm of relationship? Is it the same quantity for all kinds of relationships?
If you've made the last X overtures, it's time to let go.
Or if it feels wrong to call again, it is.
Maybe there's no graceful or painless way to say goodbye.
Can't there be a bit of warning? Or some way to acknowledge that we are nearing the end?
It makes me crazy that nothing looked different the last time we were together--the embraces and laughter and talking-with-eyes all unchanged, just they way it's always been for five, ten, 15 years...yet, we walk away from the encounter and you never again call or return my call. From seeming intimacy and camaraderie to utter indifference---just like that.
I don't understand.
It's not the way I do it.
Would it be helpful to make coffee right now?
posted at 6:38 AM