I’ve had a post brewing for a few days but it’s felt scattered and unformed, and then I realized: perfect. How appropriate.
I’m in Maine with my parents and my son, and I’m thinking about how everything, always, is a duality of good/bad, right/wrong, confusing/clear, difficult/easy.
This is one of the most beautiful, peaceful places I know, yet I miss the bustle of Berkeley.
I craved the peacefulness of this place for weeks, but now I’m here, I can’t relax.
Being close to my parents makes me realize how much I miss them, but it also makes me realize how difficult it is to be with one’s parents.
Lex is adorable, but he is also, as a friend recently remarked, “fucking four”–loud, rude, inconsiderate.
Lex is perfectly normal, yet I worry that my relatives think maybe he’s an asshole.
I told myself a break from making a baby and a break from writing would be okay, good, but since I’ve been here I’m anxious about all the hours I’m not writing or making a baby.
I have been wanting to make space for these feelings of dissatisfaction, while at the same time, I feel guilty when I remember how lucky I am to have this nice life.
Lately I have been reflecting on how my meditation practice this year has gotten me out of some sticky situations, mostly because, when I’m being mindful, I’m kinder to myself about what I perceive as failures and setbacks. I remember to be gentle, to have lovingkindness and temperance.
Lately I have also been reflecting on how challenging this year might have been if I hadn’t been meditating–and already, it feels like it’s been quite challenging. If anything, the negative voices in my head have increased. The stress about my writing has felt more overt, more divisive, more painful. The pain about being–say it–infertile–has been palpable. Meditation has helped me to deal with these feelings more, sure, but the feelings are still there, and I wonder if, along the road, when you start to practice sometimes things get worse before they get better.
On this issue in particular, I really want clarity.