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A Color Return

Feb 17th, 2012 by jonmichael1087

Last night I slept at Tyler’s. Before I went to bed, I looked around his room at all the messages his old friends sent him when he was in the hospital. I looked at pictures of his life back at the beginning college. I saw a picture with him and his old girlfriend and they were such an attractive couple. Then I read something he had put on his lampshade about having hope. It really moved me.

Anyway, it was weird because last night I dreamt about really adventurous places and things. It might have been sparked from all that I was thinking about Tyler and his old life before I went to bed, or it might have been because I spent the earlier part of the night with Mike and Ryan, my good buddies from college, and we recalled so many good memories of our rich college life. It got interesting during my dream because I also saw a “glimpse” into my monastic life that I’m going into next year. In case I haven’t said it here, my plan is to take a monastic path for a few years. Here in the dream, I saw my life at the monastery, and to my surprise, it looked really boring. I was in a meditation room with all the monks from Abhayagiri (not the same meditation hall as the one that’s at the actual monastery), and we were all meditating in front of a blank, empty wall. There was no Buddha statue. And I thought I was really trapped in that place, and I thought about all the stuff that I was missing in the world. Which is funny, because intellectually, I know that I really want to go to this monastery and live as a monastic. The Buddhist path really inspires me and awakens me, and I want to take it all the way. I know as I go down the path, I get really curious, active, and intrigued. The color will returns to my life, and it will open up in ways I never knew before. But why did it seem so boring in my dream? What was I comparing it to?

After I woke up, said a few words to Tyler and walked out the door. Then, as I stepped outside, this amazing sensation hit me that has not let up. There was something about the air outside that rejuvenated me, the way the world seemed to turn, that sparked so much color in my thoughts. I got in my car and rolled down the windows on the way home, and it felt so nice out, but it felt more than a nice day. There was this spirit that soaked into me that helped me see this beauty in my life. Just then, that clinging sensation came forward that wanted to grasp it, put it on a pedestal, or in a box, so I knew how to get their later, then I compared my entire life to it. When that happened, that disconnect came forward—a sort of “fall” from the high I was feeling—but I just let those thoughts go. And the color returned again, only transfused a bit. It was amazing! This feeling has not let up. I feel a taste of that freedom that I had in college, the state of mind where I was really happy. This is the first time I found it since its left me.

I don’t know what else to say about all of this. I have no idea where it’s going to take me. But i’m definitely going to see what happens as time unfolds. I think there’s a lot I can learn here.

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Unplugging

Feb 17th, 2012 by jonmichael1087

–written last week–
Last night we had a great discussion at Sandy Springs that really energized me and gave me a renewed sense of vigor. We listened to a talk by Joseph Goldstein where he talked about watching thoughts and the trail of depression that ensues when we start with a maladaptive one. He talked about his months of misery that ensued on a retreat, and he said the sole reason he was miserable for those two months was because he thought that if he *missed* what was arising in the next breath, he was gone. I put a star around the word “miss” because that hit me like a lightning bolt.

After the talk, I opened up a lively discussion when I talked about how much I related to that. Much of my life in the past 2 years has been difficult because I have suffered a very similar neurosis, and I have created absolute shit in my life from the fear of “missing” what was unfolding in my life. It started from a small incident that viciously cycled: I became so worried that I was going to miss a very intimate experience in my life, that I disconnected from the experience altogether, and then once the experience passed, I became sad that I “missed” it. Then, the fear of missing similar experiences grew stronger, and it spiraled deeper to encompass all of my life. I felt an utter disconnect from my life, and I became more and more miserable, and more and more numb, for over a year. This is the same comparative thinking that plagued Goldstein. And it all comes from that one little thought that’s so seductive. My question to the group was, even when you know you’re doing that, how do you stop that? How do you let go of the spiral thinking that you know ends in bullshit?

One woman talked about how her life was like that with depression, and all it took was a simple trigger—like pressing a button on a jukebox—and the same song would play over and over again. She talked about how mindfulness was “unplugging” the jukebox, and stopping the spiral before it began. Mark continued upon that by stressing how important it is to notice the thought the very moment it arises. From there, letting go becomes a simple matter. Because truly no one wants to be miserable—but when we can truly see those thoughts that lead us there, they “naturally just fall off the side of the boat,” as Gil Fronsdal would say. The talk just opened up and flowed from there, and really became beautiful. I just ate up every bit of what was said. I’ve reflected on that and I’ve really benefited from it.

I’ve always known to practice residing in the breath, learning from what arises, and letting go of the bullshit talk in my head that creates endless desires that leave me endlessly unsatisfied. But this talk today really inspired me to deepen awareness in my practice, and really look closer at those thoughts that arise, and find the ones that spiral into my dissatisfaction and fear of “missing”. It’s like putting out the radar, as Goldstein put it, and it’s like a video game. Bringing this into my practice, I’ve noticed the times where the thought arises—or in a more abstract sense, that cerebral impulse that may not have a thought attached to it— and the tendencies to dive into these thoughts, and it’s so tempting to dive in, but I don’t. I just let go of all of it and settle with where I am.

The challenge lies in the fact those dialogues are very insidious, and sometimes we’re not even aware we’re doing it, which is why cultivating awareness is so crucial. We’re often unaware that we continue to make a mess of things, overanalyze things, narrate things, dramatize things, and try to solve it all—but it is precisely this thinking that forms the suffering, and the content that is the illusion. The matter is truly less about fixing it all and more about noticing that train of thought as it occurs, and letting it go. That is the real enlightening experience.  Even the act of letting go stirs up bullshit, and we want to pick it up again, because the clinging is so strong. “But this, this, and this. Maybe it’s not enough to let go? What if it comes up again? What is the answer to everything?” Those are some typical things that come up in my mind. That sense of grasping is deeply embedded within us, but letting go is a continual, continual practice. And for me, I know that it has taken months of practice to truly let go and deepen to peace, and in many ways I feel like I’m just starting. But the more I practice, the more things open up. The more peace I find, the more beauty I find, and I can breathe a little easier, smile a little better, and learn to really take in the miracle that surrounds me.

I hope to maintain this discipline and awareness in my practice, and get more intimate with the beauty and reality of my life.

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Trying to Settle

Jan 30th, 2012 by jonmichael1087

I want to find ways to settle my mind more. Lately, I’ve been all over the place, and my practice has been kind of dry recently, with only a few connections here and there. I’m challenged. How do I find a deeper peace? How do I find and cultivate a deeper appreciation for my life?

We talked about metta practice at Sandy Springs the other night during the meet-up, and it was really fascinating, especially since I rarely do metta practice. The talk we listened to, by Sharon Salzberg, was really inspiring because she left the practice open to our own voice as she guided us, and encouraged us to “play.” We practiced first towards ourselves by experimenting with words and phrases that would help cultivate love in our life, towards ourselves and others. It seemed a lot like prayer. I found myself playing with phrases in response to thoughts and feelings that would arise. When I thought about things in the future, I wished myself peace with whatever happens. When I found myself disconnecting myself from my life—and going into “tragedy mind” as I call it now—I wished myself “seamless transitions” and connection to all things. The phrase that I played with that actually resonated the most was “may you be free.” That was just delicious! Then, I imagined extending those wishes to others in my life, and it was super-intense. I could only hold my attention on it for a few moments, but it was really incredible.

I’ve only played with this practice a bit since the meetup, but it has bore great fruits. It really excites me because, extrapolating the few moments of bliss that I’ve found through it, I realize that the state that I’m reaching to attain is absolutely amazing beyond words. It’s heaven on Earth. Not long after this practice (a few nights ago), I had a dream about this state. It was an amazing dream.

The dream only lasted a few moments, and as I said, there wasn’t really any content, it was just a state of mind that I entered. The state of mind felt amazing, and it seemed like a glimpse into Nirvana, in a way that seemed tangible, relevant, real, and attainable to me. In this part of the dream, a song came to my head, “Lie in Our Graves” from Golden Gate Park, which is a really colorful, adventurous, and open song that really makes everything seem beautiful, but one that is among a list of elite songs in my life that have had such a profound effect on me that I feel I need to “archive” them, so to speak. That is, I won’t listen to them because I want to preserve them, perhaps for a later time. I fear that by listening to them, the feelings of longing for the past that would be evoked would be too intense to deal with, and that it would obscure—and actually erase— the memories that they hold because I would be replacing them with new ones as I listen to the song again. It’s really ridiculous, but that’s what I’ve done, and that’s why I haven’t listened to the entire Revolver album (my “favorite” album) since early 2010.

Anyway, whilst in the dream, I heard the song, but I wasn’t sad. In fact, I felt just the opposite: the song opened me, made me feel free, like my body was floating, and there was color around me. I didn’t have the slightest thought of the past—instead, it told me a new story. One that wasn’t over, but one that I could be a part of. It was a new adventure. It made me really excited about the future. It made me feel like I go anywhere in the world, and be apart of everything again. It was so amazing.

Unfortunately though, I had to wake up and go to work, lol. And on that note, I need to get a new job if want to get more of the freedom that I’m seeking. I want one that actually stimulates me. Not only does my current one drain my spirits, but it leaves me wiped from exhaustion throughout the entire week, even when I’m not working. The result is that I hardly have time to cultivate my practice. I want a job that is challenging, but not taxing. Stimulating, but not tiring. I want my path in my real life to carry with me to my job, not detract from it. My job has left me tired, unfocused, and reactionary. So, to help myself out, I’m taking a week off from work this next week to get back in touch with my practice, deepen my relationship with my life, and also give myself time to network to find a new job, and also to write this chapter in a book for a psychologist I met about “how we heal.” In it, I’ll be talking about how I healed from years of Adderall intoxication. Stay tuned :)

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Thinking

Jan 19th, 2012 by jonmichael1087

My mind has been all over the place in the past month. My practice has been slipping, I’m not as focused as I was when I returned from the monastery. Which is funny because I also find myself feeling happier.

I still believe that I have retained the faculties of mindfulness, the clarity and insight regarding the nature of my negative thinking, and the ability to notice those states as they arise and put them down. I think that has been the ever growing quest since I returned from Abhayagiri, and it’s one that has allowed my life to open up and help me find more happiness. But…. my sitting practice is diminishing. Not only that…. My thoughts are racing faster. They are denser. Focusing on the breath seems a lot harder. A feel lost in a sea of convoluted thoughts. Writing this even feels difficult. I don’t even think this a good blog that I’ve written.

Where do I go from here? Is this happiness genuine? Is there something missing? I am very suspicious about this state of mind that I’ve found myself in. On the one hand, I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time, and I’m at peace more now than I can ever remember, but at the same time, I feel cut off from something. Maybe this is the beginning mindful realization that will move me to something greater?

God, if I had one wish, it would be for all my loans to be paid off. I wish I could go to a monastery right now and just practice practice practice…. and investigate all of this. But I can’t! Sigh…. I have to reside myself here and find other ways to cultivate my practice. I have to keep on working, keep on investigating….

 

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A Year in Reflection

Dec 31st, 2011 by jonmichael1087

At the very beginning of this year, in early January, I was climbing one of the most magnificent mountains in the world—Emei Shan—on a magnificent winter day, with snow falling all around me. It may have otherwise been a beautiful sight to behold, yet for the whole time, I was miserable. I felt completely detached from the whole experience, disconnected to the beauty all around me, and both sad and angry about all of it. What’s worse, I had been feeling that way for almost a year. By that point, I felt like I was drowning. It was so bad, I was hardly aware of what was happening—within me or around me. I was numb; numb to think, numb to reflect, numb to look around me and see anything, because all in my life seemed cursed from the tragedies that had ensued, and it was scary to look at. But part of me was screaming on the inside, wanting so desperately to be free.

It was while climbing this mountain that I had an important reflection inspired by the monk that I had passed on the mountain the day before. I realized that what I had been doing for the past months in China was not working, and thus, I needed a radical shift in consciousness and perception if I wanted to be free. “Okay,” I thought, “I could be like that monk. I’ll go to a monastery, and renunciate everything, go bare-bones, and develop the radiance I saw in him.” I thought it was an absurd idea, but only slightly less absurd than the shit that I was going through, and for that, it seemed great. It was a fleeting idea idea at the time, but one that I ultimately returned to over the course of successive experiences throughout the year.

It’s now the end of this year, and I taken a very similar course to what I’m sure that monk did. I have become an  enthusiast of the Dhamma—the Buddha’s teachings—seeing it as a vehicle to meet my greatest aspiration: the cessation of my suffering and dissatisfaction and the beginnings of a life of true freedom and happiness. I realize that I can’t get back to my old life, but one thing I have learned on the Dhamma is that happiness is not a time of life; it is a state of mind. With this goal of mental reformation in my life, I am now meditating everyday. I am reading, experimenting with ideas, reflecting, and applying all that I learn to my direct, immediate experience. I’m practicing the art of peace by learning how to put down that which is unwholesome, and I’m practicing the art of happiness by embracing that which is beautiful, wholesome, and radiant. This state of mind, this knowing, and this practice, is a complete juxtapositin of how I was thinking as I climbed Emei Shan, which was reactionary, avoidant, and fatalistic. As I look back, I can appreciate every step and every effort I took along the way to get where I am now.

When I came back from China, having not gotten the kind of liberation that I was seeking, I knew someone had to help me from myself, so I went to a therapist. So many of them did not understand my path at all; I went to three different therapists before I found Rita. She was special because she did not tell me how I needed to fix my life, or what I was doing “wrong.” Instead, she brought me to the immediacy of experience, time and time again. This is essentially what happens in meditation. Through that, I uncovered the truth and origins of the impulses that came to my mind that disconnected me to everything. I learned how to understand them, how to frame them, and ultimately, how to work with them. Those negative thoughts and mindsets that arise aren’t problems, I learned, but opportunities that, when dealt with wholesomely, can lead to a happier, more fulfilled life. They are our bodies way of moving us to something greater, and Rita simply taught me to not run from them. My work with Rita was amazing, and although I no longer see her anymore, I felt her direction helped guide me on the path to liberation by getting me to search within—which, in my heart, was leading me to the Dhamma.

My renewed interest in meditation was sparked when I found an amazing book: “Mindfulness in Plain English” by Bhante Gunaratana. The first ten pages struck me light a lightning bolt, and suddenly, I saw everything I was doing wrong. I was incredibly inspired, so I sought more. I dove straight into this Buddhist world and way of thinking by networking to meditators in the community and all over the world—asking, seeking, finding. I took part in a 10-day silent retreat, an incredible experience that allowed me to dive head-on, hands-on to the practice of meditation. I spent two weeks in the Abhayagiri Monastery and had an absolutely life-changing experience, talking to monks, gaining wisdom, making friends, sharing insights—all of which helped my practice become relevant and tangible. I joined a meditation group that meets every Wednesday, and have not missed a sit since I joined in June, forming friendships and a deep Sangha to share my insights. I took part in several half day retreats with one of the laymen from the group, as well as other half day retreats with old students from the 10-day retreat. All of these outlets refined my practice incredibly. Whereas a year ago—and for serveral years up to that—I thought that meditation was simply a good idea, and I never really knew how to do it, now, I meditate for an hour twice a day, and each time, my sit is a journey as I develop my craft in mindfulness and non-clinging more and more. And it’s funny to say this now, but I’m grateful for the tragedies that ensued that led me here because they became the fuel for my practice that has opened my life tremendously.

Although there have been times in my life where I’ve been happier, there has truly never been as reformational a year for me as 2011. It was one of building, of reconstructing my mind and life to move toward happiness, color, beauty, and peace. Although I haven’t gotten definitively where I want to—and I know I have sooo much more work to do in my practice—I have developed my practice and gained tremendous wisdom that will guide me as I move more and more towards this peace. I will maintain this practice of insight and investigation to find the ways out of my dissatisfaction and open to a life a bliss, continuing to meditate every morning and every night. And as far as I’ve come, I truly believe I’ve only scratched the surface of my practice. The state of consciousness that I know I’m capable of is powerful, yet incredibly peaceful, compassionate, and blissful. Here’s to a wonderful year ahead!

 

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Breaking Through the Illusions

Dec 1st, 2011 by jonmichael1087

It’s been over a week since I’ve been out of the monastery, and I can still feel the effects on my life. I truly believe that I came out a different person than I walked in. A richer, fuller, more present being.

I enjoy sitting so much more now, and even when I don’t want to, I do it anyway because I know what I’m working for. Not to mention, my ability to sit and maintain my practice is a million times easier. It seems the sit is so much more rich, too! It seems every time I sit now, there is so much that arises to work with and explore, so much illusion to break through. Many things are so interesting to focus on and observe. I see a thought that comes to my head, and instead of believing it and following it, I just watch it. “Do I really need this?” I ask myself. In response to the maladaptive thoughts, I just invent new ones to let go of them and come back to this moment. The result is that I’m beginning to build a new life for myself, one where I believe that this life—not any other imaginative one, whether it be a different path I had taken, or the false illusion of returning to another one—is the beautiful one, the noble one, the right one, and the only place I need to be. Other things that are interesting to uncover are anxieties with people and outcomes. I let that go and return to the breath by assuring myself that everything will come to it’s place in time. And for the thoughts and feelings that are difficult and I’m not sure how to deal with, I stay with the breath as best I can, learn to just see the thoughts as they are, and if I don’t know how to quite put it down, know that through disciplined practice, peace will come in time.

Staying at the breath, I keep a vigilance to whatever arises, and there are these moments where everything—within me and without me—is fascinating. There is this feeling of liberation, a sense of knowing, to all things, and this deep serenity that lies underneath that is peaceful and blissful. Extrapolating this practice over the rest of my life, I know that through continued practice, everything I ever wished for in my spirit can come true. And, although I will surely experience loss in my life, I know that I never have a reason to be unhappy. Ever.

I’m going to do this everyday now, an hour sit at morning and night. No excuses. There is no where else to go.

In other news, I had my last visit with my therapist today. I came to her 6 months ago because I didn’t know how to get of the intense suffering I was experiencing. But now I have found the way for myself: the Dhamma. I have my practice, I know what to do, and I have references to turn to if I need it.  For the first time in a long time, I have hope.

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Coming Back

Nov 22nd, 2011 by jonmichael1087

I’ve been back from Abhayagiri for one day from my retreat and it’s beyond words. My life has utterly changed. My outlook, my plans, my attitude, all have changed. My feeling. My experience. Things look different. Things look clearer. Music is more vivid. Everything, every moment, has a story. I feel like I can feel the world turning. I’m enjoying myself with people more. A lot of things seem so silly. Why do we suffer? Why do we hold on to things, and let the things that are important get away from us? How are silly are the thoughts that lead me away from the beauty of this moment! From the reality of this life! And the infinite potential to find peace and share true compassion with everyone, share joy, share smiles. Seeing the bullshit for what it is—what it is that makes us suffer, unable to connect—just seems so silly. I can see it so clearly now. I learned so much about the Dhamma and it lets me interpret the world differently. I let go of things, I feel at peace. And it only can continue. The moment is so infinite, the world is so open and beautiful when we free ourselves from concepts that constrict it, constrict ourselves. Everything begins to glow, has vibrance, depth.

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Diwali

Nov 3rd, 2011 by jonmichael1087

(written last Wednesday)

Today is a holiday in India and Southeast Asia called Diwali. It celebrates the triumph of good over evil. People in their communities celebrate their sangha (spiritual communities) and light candles to cast evil spirits away. And it’s quite fitting, Rita told me today after our visit, since I reached a big landmark in my work with her today.

It’s hard to say what happened in the her office today, but I was bursting with life and optimism about everything. I think this came a result of two things: 1. the power of her practice as a therapist, and 2. the insights I made in the past week since I had last seen her. Last week I talked about dealing with fears and my inability to connect to parts of my life, and she gave me an assignment to address it with it over the weekend. But my direction completely changed when I had an interesting experience this sunday while listening to a song. The song is one I hadn’t heard in over a year—”I’m Only Sleeping” by the Beatles—and a very important one that I feel demands an explanation before I describe the experience.

I’ve always thought of this song as the song that has influenced me the most of any song. Not really my “favorite” but just very influential. I fell in love with it—and the entire Revolver album—within days of listening to it. The song is about being lazy and basking in the beauty of the world around you without getting caught up in the mindless insanity of running around trying to fix everything. Staying safe in your purest dreams and flooding peacefully in the abstract. I think the feeling of that song has resonated with me more deeply than any other song. I can even recall specific days when I first listened to the song, back in Athens in early 2010, where I would lay on my bed, look at the window, and bask in the intoxicating feeling that that song gave me. I felt so alive and happy where I was with my life. But then that time ended when I moved out of Athens. A series of crises unfolded at the same time, and the result is that I’ve felt beyond sad—empty, numb—ever since. Since that time, I’ve avoided listening to that song, because, I guess, I feared that it would imbue me within a sense of sadness and a longing to return to that happy time, and I wouldn’t know how to take it. But, this weekend, I listened to it anyway…. for the first time in over a year.

It sounded like a completely different song. It seemed so much simpler this time around, but it was still interesting to investigate. I heard different layers of the song. Different tracks in the recording stuck out more than others. Visions and images of those happy days in Athens would come up to my mind, and although there was a little bit of somber there, it was slight; in its place, I felt a simple fondness for that time. I felt and heard Ringo’s part more than ever. George’s backwards guitar solo sounded different, and intoxicated me in a different way. These were all just mere, ephemeral thoughts and feelings that would arise and pass as I continued to discover and experience more of the song. The key is this: the experience of listening to it was different than anything I’ve ever had before listening to it. A completely different experience with the same song.

This direct experience gave birth to an incredible insight—one critical lesson the nature of impermanence—and I guess over time, as I pondered the experience, it’s grown and eventually burst into the enthusiasm I had at Rita’s office. The thing is, I think a lot of what brought me to Rita in the first place is because I’ve been hung up on past experiences. I can’t get over a happy time of my life that I haven’t moved past. And even more, I’ve been dwelling on where my life could have been if tragedy x, y, and z never happened. This is why I’ve been feeling so numb, why I can’t enjoy music, can’t enjoy art, can’t feel connected, and can’t feel happy. I always compare my current life to a hypothetical one, and I damm myself in comparison. But listening to that song this weekend—the song that is the heart of a life that I’ve longed to return to—and having an experience unlike what it was at the time, I’ve realized that those dreams of a different life are fiction; they don’t exist anymore. The beauty I formerly experienced with it is something, fundamentally, I can never return to—it was, in all of those moments, just what it was, and that was on a different time, on a different year, under a different weather, in a different life. So if the experience of the moment is subject to infinite possibility—and we can never return to another one— how foolish would it be to hold on to it? Why spend my existence foolishly pining over a past experience, when I could be having an experience that’s infinitely beyond anything—infinitely more blissful—than I could ever imagine?

Seeing this, I realize that there is an art to the moment, a freedom, to be something, anything you want it to be—be it connected, blissful, free. Going further, there is a whole world of consciousness waiting for me beyond this state of my existence. To be free. To be happy. To think and feel anything I’ve ever wanted to in my mind and life. Indeed, happiness is not a time of life, it is a state of mind. I can be free, intoxicated in art, one with everything, blissful, just like I was listening to that song back in Athens. Only it must be in a new way, under a different sun, in a different world. And I think what led to that happy time of life in Athens was not that things didn’t go wrong, but that I was making peace with things as they arose, and letting things go. That’s how I was happy then, and that’s how I can be happy again. It is possible. It is reachable. I can walk in bliss. I can be free. Truly free. So that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna be happy again.

In my upcoming entries I will talk about my roadmap to getting there; my path to enlightenment that I’ve mapped out after realizing that happiness in tangible. It takes work, it takes discipline, and it takes, for my path, weeks/months/years immersed in a meditative lifestyle—an adventure that I’ve just begun to save up money for. The mind must be trained to be happy, I believe. Otherwise, I’d be happy already from thinking this. The first stop is this new experience waiting for me next week: I’m going to live in the Abhayagiri monastery—a Buddhist monastery in Redwood California—for two weeks starting NEXT SATURDAY. I’m so excited!

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24

Oct 19th, 2011 by jonmichael1087

I used to fear growing up. I used to be saddened the fact that everything I once loved in my past was getting further and further away from me. I used to fear that aging would mean I would have less excitement in my life, things would have less novelty, and that I would grow old and boring.

I feel that’s starting to change, thankfully. This year has really brought a lot of peace in my life, and I’ve realized it’s because I’ve simply grown up. I’ve accepted things I can’t change. I’ve stopped obsessing what people think about me, and just started genuinely asking how they’re doing. I think this is the virtue of getting old and growing up. I become wiser, more comfortable with myself, more comfortable with others. I’ve learned to find what makes me happy, and go for that, and just to let go of anything else along the way and make peace with it. My romanticization of the past comes up at times, but it’s just a thought that goes no where. I can learn to let it go, and take from it what I need. Yeah, there was a lot of fun that I miss, but there was a lot of pain I went through, too. And growing up has helped me move past it. Looking forward, I can only see more peace and, I think, more contentment.

I’ve discussed this with many friends—CQ, Lauren, Nick—and they seem to be of the same opinion. Growing up with them has been great, and I’m glad to know that we’re all becoming happier and more at peace. It’s because we’re growing up. And that’s not a bad thing. Not at all.

Two days ago, I turned 24 years old. I celebrated my birthday with my twin brother, Tim. We had a great day! We went to 5 seasons brewery and a pumpkin carving contest at his work place. I carved a little kitty on my pumpkin! I also spent time with my family and went out to eat, then had yogurt with them too. It was a great day.

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Feeling Happy Again

Oct 3rd, 2011 by jonmichael1087

Not unlike anyone else, bad things have happened in my life. But I have a way of damning myself because of them. I have an insidious way of making my life into a tragedy.

(typical self-dialogue for me):

If only I had lived in Athens longer with my good friends. If only my heart wasn’t broken. If only had never met her in the first place. Things would have been better. If I only enjoyed my college life better, instead of staying in my room and bitching all the time. Fuck, if only this customer wasn’t a bitch!! Who cares if your beer comes about 60 seconds too late. If only I had gotten more sleep last night. If only I hadn’t made a fool of myself in front of that girl anyway.

It’s really an absurd tragedy that I make my life out to be. Even writing them out now, these “truths” look stupid. But they are real. And I believe them, and I damn myself. And then, because I don’t know how to deal with the heavier ones, I shut down. I become unhappy. And I can go for days—even weeks or months—feeling so unhappy that I eventually become terribly, terribly numb. I live in a fog. And then after a while, I become so numb that forget why I became unhappy in the first place.

But the moments and times that are most great is when I can catch this dialogue as it arises and accept these events—these “tragedies.” I just tell myself it was okay that it happened. They weren’t things that ruined my life, they were just things that were simply apart of my life. Neither bad nor good. Just there, just existing. Whenever I think that, life begins to become beautiful again. And I feel at peace. Then I look around me at all I have for me—the sun, the sky, the beautiful Earth around me, the absolutely amazing people in my life—and I feel happy.

I want to be able to cultivate this discipline and maintain it for the rest of my life. As I’ve said before, knowing this on the intellectual level is not enough; I think it is definitely a practice that requires meditation and practice on the experiential level—to see the dialogues first, then accept the content with equanimity.

“The nature of the mind is such that if certain mental qualities are developed on a sound basis, they not only remain, but they also increase. In fact, once properly developed, the mind’s good qualities eventually increase indefinitely. Therefore spiritual practice brings us long-term happiness and inner strength.” – The Dalai Lama

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