the Cave

Just finished sitting.

Something different happened.

How to describe it?

When thoughts arise, according to Pema Chodron's advice, I look at them for a second, label them "thinking" and go back to my breathing. Lovely.

You miss so much beauty when you are hallucinating on your own dramas.

So, today, I'm sitting in the peace room--which Nick has taken over as his pad this summer. So now there is a Wii and a television set, as well as his 600 page sci fi novel that he's been working on since 2nd grade. At the last minute, right before we were due to fly off to his dad's, our state supreme court called Nick to interview for an internship he had applied for in February. Talk about timing. He got it. So he's with me all summer. He cut his hair and trundles off to the capitol every day. He's doing a lot of xeroxing and making minimum wage. It's his first job. "Mom," he says, "Do you realize that by the end of the summer I will have earned one THOUSAND dollars?"

I didn't have the heart to tell him about social security.

Anyways, the basement has sort of evolved into his pad. We're leading this sort of parallel existence. No living with Jay, as I usually do. I miss that, but the time with my son's pretty precious. And he'll be off in adulthood soon enough. Sniff.

So today, I'm sitting, and breathing, and all the sudden it felt like the top of my head had come off. You know those images showing a big light coming out of someone's skull? That's what it felt like. I felt suddenly that nothing I understood about the self was accurate. I felt that my skull was a cave of horrors, ego demons, and that all the sudden the rock rolled away and I was free. I felt this stab of sorrow, that we're all so locked in, and that it isn't really true--that we're all just part of something immensely bigger. I felt the world all around, above behind below front--then I thought--Wow--this is fantastic--and started getting caught up thinking about my romantic dramas.

Whenever I have a transcendental experience like that in sitting, my ego seems to reassert itself in really crappy ways that day--it's like it wages a war--"remember me? remember me?" and the biggest weapon it uses against me is my sense of self-righteousness. The "it's not fair!" response--"I'm not getting my due" I happen to be particularly vulnerable to this trap because of the domestic abuse I suffered through in my twenties. I swore I would never let that happen again--so I'm hyper vigilant. But it still happens. I'm terrified of getting screwed--and as a result I get screwed all the time.

So the minute I got off the cushion, I get this urge to check Jay's email. But that makes my day about Jay, and his lying is his business--it's his cave of horrors, not mine. He's not being straightforward about something--I can feel it. I don't think it's anything horrendous--but it's probably something I wouldn't agree with or like. Some bit of guilt. If I do anything, it will somehow be blamed on me--so I'm just letting him stew in his own juices. My duty is to be as happy as I can. I'm sure I'll find out everything I need to know. Checking up on him is demeaning, I've decided. He told me he was going to his parents Sunday night, but as I was riding home on my bicycle on the empty Sunday summer streets from work, he passed me in his car. Then, yesterday morning, he called.

"How are your folks?" I asked, knowing full well he hadn't gone.

"I didn't go...I just didn't feel well. I didn't call you because I knew you'd feel torn about leaving Nick by himself and coming out...so I didn't want to put you in that position."

What a load of crap. Oh well. Not my problem. I imagine with that big weeping sore on his penis he didn't get much action. He'll figure it out.

When someone is having a relationship with you--only it seems as if the "you" they've made is a complete fiction--the only cure is to step away, I think.

Sometimes, I am very, very lonely.

That's my 1/2 hour.