For much of my life, when things were difficult, I wanted them to go away.
I wanted the problem solved. I got into the execution and solution mode, but I wanted things to be done and away asap.
I would often focus on what wasn’t working and wait for life to become easier or certain things to actually happen before allowing letting myself to be living.
And something else happened too. I never lived. (truly)
I became remarkably good at overlooking the good moments.
Not because they weren’t there, but because I took them for granted, diminished their existence or simply ignore them.
Also, the difficult things were loud, and the good things were often quiet.
A little spark in the dark, and I would barely notice it.
But over the last few months something has slowly shifted.
I realised that some things simply cannot be fixed or wished away.
There is illness in my family, complicated family dynamics, work and life uncertainty, occasional stress at work.
There are things I would rather be different.
And yet…
There is also a friendly smile from a handsome stranger at the gym.
Or a walk along the extraordinary Galician coast.
And a tender moment with my partner.
And an amazing kickboxing session that leaves me exhausted and happy. (I am so good at kicking that bloody bag!)
A brief connection with someone in a local shop (even though I moved here a year ago, I was afraid to speak local language for months)
The smell of coffee at 6:30 when I get up and sit for my morning coffee & reading session.
A swim in a cold ocean, a laugh or a conversation with a great human.
None of these things makes the difficult things disappear.
And the difficult things don’t make these moments less real.
They coexist.
For a long time, I think I imagined life as a list of things, problems I needed to fix before I could properly enjoy it.
Now I’m learning something different.
Maybe this is it.
Not the life after the problems are solved.
Not the version of life in which everyone I love is healthy, work is uncomplicated, and I finally know what comes next.
This.
All of it.
Life, in all its colours.
I partly, at least, blame (haha) my Buddhist journey. I am not a buddhist, but over the last years I have been reading and embracing its wisdom. And there is particularly one Japanese master whose teaching helped me shift this tectonic plate of my mindset. His name is Dōgen.
He writes about the moon reflected in a dewdrop.
The whole moon, the whole sky, reflected in a single drop of water.
I keep coming back to this image. I keep thinking about this image and teaching every time there is development at home, or the news becomes heavy, or another problem appears on the list.
I tell myself. This is it. All of it.
Life with its lighter and darker colours.
The smile of a handsome guy AND the dying family member.
Things we enjoy and things we fear.
The impermanent and the precious.
All reflected together.
Do not get my wrong. I am not saint!
I’m still learning.
I still get lost in worry.
I still wish some things were different.
But increasingly, when a small spark appears, I try not to miss it.
I stop.
I notice.
I let it be there.
And I see the whole picture. The full reflection of the moon.
The whole moon in a dewdrop.
The Whole Moon in a Dewdrop
For much of my life, when things were difficult, I wanted them to go away.
I wanted the problem solved. I would get into execution and solution mode, wanting things to be done and gone as soon as possible.
I would often focus on what wasn’t working and wait for life to become easier, or for certain things to happen, before allowing myself to actually live.
And something else happened too.
I never lived. Truly.
I became remarkably good at overlooking the good moments.
Not because they weren’t there, but because I took them for granted, diminished their existence, or simply ignored them.
The difficult things were loud.
The good things were often quiet.
A little spark in the dark, and I would barely notice it.
But over the last few months, something has slowly shifted.
I realised that some things simply cannot be fixed or wished away.
There is illness in my family.
Complicated family dynamics.
Work and life uncertainty.
Occasional stress at work.
There are things I would rather be different.
And yet…
There is also a friendly smile from a handsome stranger at the gym.
A walk along the extraordinary Galician coast.
A tender moment with my partner.
An amazing kickboxing session that leaves me exhausted and happy.
(I am so good at kicking that bloody bag!)
A brief connection with someone in a local shop. Even though I moved here a year ago, I was afraid to speak the local language for months.
The smell of coffee at 6:30 when I get up and sit down for my morning coffee and reading session.
A swim in a cold ocean.
A laugh.
A conversation with a great human.
None of these things makes the difficult things disappear.
And the difficult things don’t make these moments less real.
They coexist.
For a long time, I think I imagined life as a list of problems I needed to fix before I could properly enjoy it.
Now I’m learning something different.
Maybe this is it.
Not the life after the problems are solved.
Not the version of life in which everyone I love is healthy, work is uncomplicated, and I finally know what comes next.
This.
All of it.
Life, in all its colours.
I partly, at least, blame (haha) my Buddhist journey.
I am not a Buddhist, but over the last few years I have been reading and embracing its wisdom. And there is one particular Japanese master whose teaching helped shift this tectonic plate in my mindset.
His name is Dōgen.
He writes about the moon reflected in a dewdrop.
The whole moon.
The whole sky.
Reflected in a single drop of water.
I keep coming back to this image.
I think about it every time there is another development at home, the news becomes heavy, or another problem appears on the list.
I tell myself:
This is it. All of it.
Life with its lighter and darker colours.
The smile of a handsome guy AND the dying family member.
Things we enjoy and things we fear.
The impermanent and the precious.
All reflected together.
Do not get me wrong.
I am not a saint!
I’m still learning.
I still get lost in worry.
I still wish some things were different.
But increasingly, when a small spark appears, I try not to miss it.
I stop.
I notice.
I let it be there.
And I try to see the whole picture.
The full reflection of the moon.
The whole moon in a dewdrop.
Much love,
R.
