My powerbook walked back into my life after coughing up some cash, with a new hard disc and a folder named recovery divided by the two passes the computer guy did on the messed up hard drive. Reminds me of my body just after the strokes. How come crime specials always recover all the data? Because life is not like fiction. It is funny that even with this remedy, it still involves some work to figure it all out salvage what is left and merge and then purge. With increased wisdom you will know there will always be something needing to be fixed, whether it is your house, car, computer or partner. That happiness is not derived from having all your wants lined up.
That is why I came home after a long day with volunteer projects with the computer that needs to be weeded and backed up, and sat down to meditate. Knowing that if I start the process without a clear mental state, I will quite possibly make more of a mess or at the very least, get all wound up. This is not the procrastinators’ approach to life, but instead using some wise scraps that seem to follow me as walk down this path.
I spent my Saturday learning the 32 parts of body meditation. A overview in one day, of what and how your are supposed to understand that you are not your body by chanting and visualizing those 32 parts, building concentration, and perhaps healing where you store your feelings. A day was way too short, they often do it for a minimum of 10 days to as long a 8 months in Burma. I thought that this method might work very well over a longer time period, but I have pretty much figured out the idea I am not my body, from being in a coma with nurse talking like I was not “there.” That combined with my whole experience in hospital now has left me so that when ever I look in the mirror, I don’t see me but a body, because I know very concretely I am much more than whatever barks back. A mirror cannot possibly contain everything I am now. I look back every time now and laugh.
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