maybe just a post to release some worldly words, can't force these things if they don't come, can you.
It feels a little odd lying in my starched crisp clean bed sheets in zambia, sweating and restless, not due to the heat or the buzzing mosquitoes, but rather due to my carried-along-cold, which has come to full fruition upon arrival. Was it the lengthy air travel, the air-conditioning, or my hopes on it not overmastering me were simply wishful thinking.
I have been overmastered. Last night saw me lying in my bed, with my thick red nepali shawl that ilan sent me wrapped tight around my pulsating neck. coughing non-stop, getting frustrated and irritated, knowing that only makes the coughing worse, feeling alone, feeling sorry for myself, and many more unenlightened sentiments of which i know better than to indulge in.
i can't wait to get out and into the bustle of meetings, conversations, dialogues, plans - one day locked up in the hotel room is enough, it leads me to no good, questioning the worth of what i do, questioning my deflections from pursuing higher goals, questioning, questioning.
I will return now to the book I am reading - The Life of Mahatma Ghana, by Louis Fischer, and retreat from my worldly aches and pains.
I will also try to keep a dream journal - i can sense that a lot is happening in the nightly hours and spheres, and i am losing it all to the break of day. integrating practice into daily life, even if ailing and weak. no excuses. no self-deception.
I will it to happen.