Toughing it out

I found as I meditated over toughing it out that that last word was the one on which to focus.  Out.  The class was tough, in the same way a 10 year term at Sing Sing is.  And I wasn't getting "it".  An examination of the instructors and students turned up lifeless forms, bodies without a spark.  Mind death struck me as an all-around bad idea.  It's one thing to do a mental fasting to cleanse the brain's pipes; it's another to turn one's soul over to a semi-cultish organization devoid of any evident care.  What's the point of life being a rock with legs?  What's living without emotion?  Who would call that enlightenment?  Isn't it the opposite: turning out the lights?  On your deathbed will you remember that great meditation you once had?  Or will you remember that night at Starbucks when you lost yourself in the eyes of the woman you love, legs intertwined?  Placidity in the face of adversity has its benefits, but not terminal placidity.  It seemed to me that life was too much of a burden for our instructor.  He just didn't know how to enjoy it and wanted to escape it with a measure of dignity.

Out was the right thing.  But out is frowned upon by vipassana, so it was a tough decision.  Once you're out, you're out, for good, forever, unlike the mafia.  They want you to commit to in before you're in.  Meditation revealed to me that no matter out's stigma, it was the right thing.  So out I went, simply, directly, wordlessly.  It felt good inside and out.

And the timing couldn't have been better.  Minutes after I powered up my phone I got a text from Shatra.  She said that we've finally secured new quarters in International Falls and that I've been away too long.  I confess that I miss the borderlands and my own students.  The time away has fueled my spirit to make the new yoga studio and classes better than ever.  If I'm a little hyper, a bit too excitable when you see me next, forgive me.

-D