There Is Nothing To Do.

*Warning: This is not a parenting blog.  This is a blog about where I am in my own life…especially since I have become a parent coach. I am writing it because, well, it is real for me and I think a lot of people feel this way.

 

Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder. Help someone’s soul heal.
Rumi

 

This post was originally called “Conflicted.”  I so often am.  Or I think I am.  My life calls to me to be who I am (Who else can I be?), but (and) I feel that who I am is not what the world needs.  Wants.  Should have.

I am at odds with my role.

I am not an expert.

I am not an expert in parenting, or living, or motherhood.

I sit in front of my teacher, who is not my teacher because I am not a student because I don’t practice enough…and cry.  No, it more like weep.  Tears streaming down, mucus flowing out of nose.  It is as gross as you imagine.

I sit in front of her and I cannot speak.  I feel so vulnerable and so open.  It is like looking at the sun.  I cannot maintain her gaze, I cannot maintain the love.

She tells me I am “the worst horse.”

In our scripture it is said that there are four kinds of horse – an excellent one and a not so good ones and bad horse.  The best horse will run before it sees the shadow of the whip – that is the best one.  And the second one will run just before the whip reach his skin – and that is the second one.  The third one will run when it feels pain on his body – that is the third.  The fourth one will run after the pain penetrates into his marrow of the bone – that is the worst one.  When we hear this story perhaps everyone wants to be a good horse…the best horse; even if it is impossible to be the best one, we want to be second best.  That is quite usual understanding of horse.  But actually when we sit, you will understand whether we are the best horse or the not so good ones.  Here we have some problem in understanding of zen.  Zen is not the practice to be the best horse.  If you think so, if you understand zen as a kind of practice to be a best horse you will have, if you have this kind of idea, you will have problem.  Big problem.  That is not the right understanding of zen.  Actually, if you practice right zen, whether you are best horse or worst one is not…doesn’t matter.  That is not the point.  January 26, 1966, Originally offered: January 26th, 1966 | Modified March 16th, 2010 by korin, Rev. S. Suzuki

 

I have read and reread this.  I am not sure I get it.

But, I kind of get it.

Which is very “worst horse” of me.

I gathering my bravery together to go sit again.  Ideally, I would like to not cry…as much.

We’ll see.

This is my life…gathering courage…crying…hiding….gathering courage….crying…hiding.

I am trying to grow more of the courage.  But like waves and cycles and weather and seasons…the crying and hiding come back.  And keep coming back.

I am starting to accept that this is my life.  Not good or bad.  But my life to live.  To serve others.  To offer help.  To laugh.  To hide.  To cry.  To gather courage.

And maybe that’s okay.  Maybe I don’t have to have my shit together all of the time.

I sat with my 90 year old father in law a while ago.  He is reaching the end, and he was in bed.  I offered food and water until I bullied him into orange juice.

I sat there, looking out the window and said, “I want to do something for you.”

He said, “There is nothing to do.”

Ah.  Yes.  There IS nothing to DO.

So, we talked about Obama and the Republicans and the economy.  We chatted about my girls, and then we sat in silence as he snoozed.

Hiding behind the doing…I am a master at that.

But I am learning…I am learning.