I sometimes wonder what karma I collected in past lives that brings me to this exact point in time. What collection of actions or is it rather inactions occurred, that accumulated, that colluded to bring together this very moment that I find myself in. I am always amazed, in fact I watch in awe some days at how my life unfolds. Almost like I am spectator to the events and activities, separated by some small element of awareness that leaves me a micro second of space to be the observer. The witness. It is kind of weird.
What I know is, that space, that milli second of blink and you will miss it stillness is what allows me to flow through life. Sometimes the flow is strong and forceful, and others it feels like I am smashed up against the rocks, but either way there always remains the subtleness of the ebb and flow of life.
The space, the stillness, the ability to witness exists, but as quickly as it appears it can be swept away never to be seen again. It is in those moments, when I am consumed by what ever is going on around me. Not the consumed in a flow kinda a way, but rather a consumed as in an overwhelmed why-the-fuck-is-this-happening-to-me kinda way. What happens to the space? Where does it go? I can muse that it is the weather, the fitful sleep I had or simply the distracted nature of my mind.
How come it is in the difficult that the space alludes me? It is in the difficult that I need the space the most. The difficult however is merely my teacher, the difficult is the gentle reminder that I am forever a student, the difficult is the smack in the face that nothing will ever be perfect. Yet somehow I still strive for the perfection in moments, I guess old habits die hard.
But what I do know, is that difficult now compared to difficult last year is different. That difficult last year to difficult to 5 year ago, different again. And if I wind the clock back 10 years, I know, there is no way I would be dealing with the difficult they way I do now. The difficult still bowls me over, it knocks me down and throws a good punch, but now, that sacred space, allows the slightest breath, and it is with that ability to inhale every so simply that I get up and keeping flowing. What else is there to do.