When last I posted, I felt so serene, so hopeful that perhaps I truly was on a spiritual path.
Now, I am anxious, distracted, and frequently in doubt.
Perhaps it is spring, which has sprung with a vengeance where I live, with record temperatures expected all week. Daoism and Traditional Chinese Medicine hold that changes of season can be challenging, and that spring is a time of rising energies, new growth and new endeavors. Perhaps somewhere in the reptilian core of my brain, a voice is saying, “It’s spring, it’s time to procreate!”—while the entire rest of my brain is screeching “You’re 76! No babies for you!” That would certainly throw a person off.
I am continuing all my practices, and sometimes they are wonderful. In particular, I have been learning a Chen-style form called 13 Energies, which was presented as a taiji form but to my mind is simply exquisite qigong. I start doing it and immediately feel the most marvelous flows of energy, particularly grounding energy, which was in such short supply in my taiji and qigong for so long.
But seated meditation…. My mind is busy, busy, busy, sometimes productively, more often obsessively, and a number of times lately I have stopped short of when I intended, thrown off my shawl and said to myself, “That’s it, I’m done.”
Qigong is still settling, but I find myself more often turning to the humble craft of knitting, which I have taken up again. I used to knit complicated patterns, but now I do simple stitches and scarfs. I just want to knit and purl and handle beautiful yarn.
And I have so many questions, so much despair for myself and the world.
There was a major schism in a taiji/qigong school I greatly admired. I don’t know what happened, but I find myself thinking, “If they couldn’t get along, given all the taiji and qigong and meditation they have done, what hope is there for the rest of us.” I know this is probably faulty thinking, and really I don’t feel driven to practice qigong and meditation solely because I want to become a kinder and happier person, but, well, I really would like to become a kinder and happier person.
I have even entertained thoughts that perhaps we mess with our bioenergetic fields at our own peril and delude ourselves as to the value of the results.
And are my fancy-schmancy energy practices any better than my father’s keeping of ledgers of his every financial transaction? My sister recently found and sent me some of those old ledgers. The oldest encompasses his college years. He wrote down every penny he spent, such as what he paid for malted milk or going to the movies on dates with various girls.
He continued to keep income/expense ledgers throughout his life. He had a leather-topped desk in the corner of the dining room in the house I remember best, and he would sit there, working on his ledgers and paying bills. At the time, I thought of it as “his thing,” as I believe my mother did, fuss-budgety but harmless.
Now I think that perhaps his desk was his shrine, and that for him, precise accounting of his financial situation didn’t just provide a feeling of being in control but also was calming and mind-focusing in the same way that doing crossword puzzles, playing computer solitaire, journaling, and knitting are for me—all of which things may lead in the same general direction as more overtly spiritual practices like meditation and qigong. Well, no, maybe I take that back. Qigong definitely does have a different effect on my state of being than balancing my checkbook, although the latter is quite satisfying when the bank and I agree.
Meanwhile, of course, all this personal angst gets ramped up whenever I read the paper. Stories about climate change, the relentless march of technology and the latest Tweets from the White House make me worry that the world is headed for some sort of apocalypse and that my grandchildren are doomed.
Ah, yes…. It’s spring. My mind is fertile, and it’s running amok.
At least tulips are beautiful, and I love the soft, sweet green of unfolding leaves….