Over the last few weeks, things at home and at work have settled into what can only be called a “comfortable rhythm.” If I’ve taken so long to report it, it’s because the ups and downs of the last two years have made me singularly suspicious of any stretch of time marked by the, well, unremarkable.
This particular stretch though has stretched on for quite a bit. I know I’m getting comfortable again—but not enough to relax the psychic vigilance that’s developed as a response to all the uncertainty of the last several months.
On the one hand, I’m happy about the vigilance. It speaks of a certain interiorization of the basic (but oh so discombobulating) fact that everything that exists is impermanent. On the other hand, it’s also obviously a method of protecting myself, and while there’s nothing wrong with emotional self-defense per se, it is—in yogic language—an unnecessary expenditure of effort based on ignorance.
A more commendable approach would be to practice gratitude instead.
So this is me being grateful.
We do the best we can.