Curioser and Curioser

I love the meditation suggestion to be curious and interested, even friendly, toward our emotional states, this in contrast to being reactive and judgmental when we experience difficult emotion.

Perhaps this is because at this relatively late stage of my life I am getting clearer about what it actually means to be a friend and to be befriended.

I think in the past despite my almost constant dramatic narrative, I really did not communicate much.  Pontificate.  Dismiss things out of hand.  Try to figure out how I can win.  Yeah it’s amazing I had any friends at all. 

Possibly I was just so darned genuine and authentic as I pontificated, that a friend would naturally see that that was the real me.  And I guess it was.

However, there is nothing like cancer, marital discord, loss of a parent – in other words, there is nothing like life to pummel you to the floor and just make you sit there for awhile, making yourself and other people miserable….until you just give up and do the darn meditation and yoga, and turn inward and experience your self.  

And to learn to be friendly while you do it. 

Curiosity implies that you are aware that there is more to know and learn, and interest means you are open to what it is.  Friendliness is non-threatening and encouraging, a witness rather than a director.  The whole process requires humility and vulnerability, qualities that terrified me as I pontificated, see above.  

You progress down the path toward an open heart, a heart that is present for you and for your world. You can’t have an open heart and true compassion if you are terrified and defensive all the time. 

Memo to self: an open heart is what it’s all about.  See this lovely poem from Rumi......

MOOC

Taking a MOOC (massive open on-line course) about William Wordsworth, ending up being fascinated by his sister Dorothy and her journals. 

Dorothy:

Thursday 15th. It was a threatening misty morning—but mild. We set off after dinner from Eusemere. Mrs Clarkson went a short way with us but turned back. The wind was furious and we thought we must have returned. We first rested in the large Boat-house, then under a furze Bush opposite Mr Clarkson's. Saw the plough going in the field. The wind seized our breath the Lake was rough. There was a Boat by itself floating in the middle of the Bay below Water Millock. We rested again in the Water Millock Lane. The hawthorns are black and green, the birches here and there greenish but there is yet more of purple to be seen on the Twigs. We got over into a field to avoid some cows—people working, a few primroses by the roadside, woodsorrel flower, the anemone, scentless violets, strawberries, and that starry yellow flower which Mrs C. calls pile wort. When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow park we saw a few daffodils close to the water side. We fancied that the lake had floated the seeds ashore and that the little colony had so sprung up. But as we went along there were more and yet more and at last under the boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them along the shore, about the breadth of a country turnpike road. I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about and about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness and the rest tossed and reeled and danced and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the lake, they looked so gay ever glancing ever changing. This wind blew directly over the lake to them. There was here and there a little knot and a few stragglers a few yards higher up but they were so few as not to disturb the simplicity and unity and life of that one busy highway. We rested again and again. The Bays were stormy, and we heard the waves at different distances and in the middle of the water like the sea. Rain came on—we were wet when we reached Luffs but we called in. Luckily all was chearless and gloomy so we faced the storm—we must have been wet if we had waited—put on dry clothes at Dobson's. I was very kindly treated by a young woman, the Landlady looked sour but it is her way. She gave us a goodish supper. Excellent ham and potatoes. We paid 7/ when we came away. William was sitting by a bright fire when I came downstairs. He soon made his way to the Library piled up in a corner of the window. He brought out a volume of Enfield's Speaker, another miscellany, and an odd volume of Congreve's plays. We had a glass of warm rum and water. We enjoyed ourselves and wished for Mary. It rained and blew when we went to bed. N.B. Deer in Gowbarrow park like skeletons.

Me:

Journal entry October 6
Woke late (5:30) but able to be driving out of the city by 6:30. Stopped for gas (more expensive in Wisconsin), got coffee and croissant. Tried but failed to get much Pandora via aux cable. Frustrating. Spent the six and a half hours on the road scanning radio and stopping for good songs. "Come On Eileen" being a particularly good road song for some reason. Stopped only once more for a rest stop and a stretch. One episode of road rage when a large truck rode my bumper at 70 mph. Fortunately he exited before it could escalate. Weather was perfect and a little morning mist was nice. Came upon Madison and thought about Iowa City and got confused. What town/state am I in? Nodded toward Milwaukee and Morrie and my childhood. Once in Illinois realized I would need a lot more cash for tolls. Found hotel with no trouble and in my small, plain, but quite adequate room by 1:30 pm. 

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