In early February I hit the four-year mark of having moved to Australia, and in a few weeks it will be exactly one year since life for me had hit rock-bottom before it started to turn around. Oddly, not much has changed since then: I still feel incredibly lonely here, and my job is just a means of trying to make enough money to pay bills.
While I continue to live my life according to mortgages, credit card debt, car payments, insurance and grocery budgets no amount of zafu-sitting is going to make these chosen responsibilities any easier to handle. Long term: as it stands now, this is the life that is in store for me unless I liberate myself from it. Meditation is part of it, but with a family it cannot be only about me; collectively, we all need to choose an alternative.
A year ago, I thought I’d found a degree of liberation with meditation (and, later, finding employment); now, the practice of non-attachment as a path to awakening is becoming harder; for months is was about sitting in the “right” position, or focusing on my breath, not letting monkey-mind distract me.
Lately, though, my practice – while regular – is just shit, as I sit on a zafu staring at a wall just before dawn contemplating ways to become more of what I never wanted: a middle-aged, middle-class semi-affluent nobody with a little patch of backyard that’s owned by a bank.
Tomorrow, I sit.