From time to time, this mind still throws a hissy-fit at an imagined future, and plays the “this could happen” game. I see through the game and yet it still plays out, bringing anxiety to the body. It’s so mysterious why this mind only explores nightmare futures, instead of ecstatic ones; it’s a deeply engrained rut. But I no longer bother with wondering why. I don’t believe in why any more–I’m curious without wanting an answer.
Do I wish this would stop? Sure. But wishing doesn’t make it so, and wishing is oh, so useless an enterprise. So I spend a fair amount of time–when this arises, as it did today–noticing the body sensations. Coming right here, right now. Here is cheerful.
Pattern unraveling has its own wisdom.
© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
photo credit: somewhere I made note of the photographer, and I can’t find it. As soon as I do, I’ll post it here. They deserve the credit!