The Core of Life
Let’s remember why we’re here at retreat: for the amazing opportunity to really look into the core of our existence, the core of life itself that is so easy to overlook. It’s not easy to pay attention to it, because it’s not noisy and it’s not clamoring for attention like all other aspects of the human mind. Adyashanti
Day 20
With Linda gone, I'm sure that my fear of abandonment will show itself. I've been haunted by this fear ever since my mother died when I was twelve. The frightened child in me believes that if someone is not physically present, they might just as well be dead. That was my experience as a boy when I was told to “get over it” after my mother disappeared off the face of the earth. No one in the family ever spoke of her again; photos were hidden away; any sign of her was eradicated. In my twenties, this fear left me suicidal when I went to live alone in Paris, leaving behind friends and family. Unable to make friends and not knowing the language, I spiraled into depression. Since then I‘ve been afraid that if I was left alone again, the depression would come back to devour me.
Now I have the chance to sit with my aloneness. Since I'm on retreat, I don't want to take any easy outs - calling a friend or distracting myself on the computer. I sit quietly on the lanai, watching the thoughts float up to the surface. How interesting, there's the thought, "Where is Linda now? I'm on my own. No one even knows I'm here. Maybe I should call someone . . ." Much to my surprise, the thoughts come up and drift away; they no longer have any charge. Inside of experiencing emptiness, I'm experiencing fullness. What was once an “empty hole” needing to be constantly filled is now whole and complete. It is my own Self . . . the gift of retreat.
Day 20
With Linda gone, I'm sure that my fear of abandonment will show itself. I've been haunted by this fear ever since my mother died when I was twelve. The frightened child in me believes that if someone is not physically present, they might just as well be dead. That was my experience as a boy when I was told to “get over it” after my mother disappeared off the face of the earth. No one in the family ever spoke of her again; photos were hidden away; any sign of her was eradicated. In my twenties, this fear left me suicidal when I went to live alone in Paris, leaving behind friends and family. Unable to make friends and not knowing the language, I spiraled into depression. Since then I‘ve been afraid that if I was left alone again, the depression would come back to devour me.
Now I have the chance to sit with my aloneness. Since I'm on retreat, I don't want to take any easy outs - calling a friend or distracting myself on the computer. I sit quietly on the lanai, watching the thoughts float up to the surface. How interesting, there's the thought, "Where is Linda now? I'm on my own. No one even knows I'm here. Maybe I should call someone . . ." Much to my surprise, the thoughts come up and drift away; they no longer have any charge. Inside of experiencing emptiness, I'm experiencing fullness. What was once an “empty hole” needing to be constantly filled is now whole and complete. It is my own Self . . . the gift of retreat.
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