Freedom tastes of reality...

There are so many temptations in this world that would have us believe 'if only.'  For instance, 'if only so and so were not my boss, then I would be happy, and free of stress.'  Or, if only I won the lottery, I would be free of worries.'  Or, 'if only I lost 15 pounds, I would feel beautiful, healthy, and be happy.'

In the Judeo-Christian tradition, there are two commandments that warn us not to covet our neighbor's house, or wife.  Theft clearly is verboten in all cultures, but the idea that even to want something not belonging to you, can be problematic, suggests a sophistication that I think is wise to explore.  Why shouldn't I want my neighbor's mansion?  I just dropped Miller off at an end of eighth grade pool party at a very lavish house, it's large yard surrounded by a rock masonry wall.  Why shouldn't I want a house like that?  (Besides the obvious - the ongoing maintenance, etc.)  Let us investigate:

I imagine that many spiritual traditions have some form of these commandments.  In the Buddhist tradition, instead of an explicit stricture, one is invited to watch just what arises when the mind wishes to grasp something or someone deemed good, or positive, or to push away the 'bad'.  When the mind sees clearly, what might emerge first is simply awareness of grasping, or aversion.  And then perhaps, for example, a tightening of the muscles in the shoulders, or viscera.  A quickened breath perhaps.  Maybe the thought forms, 'I sure would like to have a pool in my backyard.'  Or, 'how could she say that to me?'  Does a bodily sensation also arise?  That old furling of the brow, narrowing of the eyes?  What does my breath feel like now?

Does freedom mean none of these thoughts or sensations or emotions occur?  I am as yet a beginner at this - after ten years of meditation practice - but it seems to me that freedom can encompass so much more than just absence.

Sometimes freedom means being able to cry at the loss of a dear one's life.  Or even to sob violently, barking like a coyote, when 'our song' comes on the radio.  Sometimes freedom means noticing the urge to grasp at some exquisite and unreachable pleasure, and then being able to come back to the splendors - or the sorrows - of this very moment.  This unique moment that we so often put in a box called 'the usual,' or 'ennui.'  Maybe I wish I had a manservant to help me dress for my day, bring me a cup of tea.  But instead I can feel the texture of my pants as I step into them, go into the kitchen and watch the honey swirl into the steaming cup.  Freedom isn't just letting go of 'covetousness' so much as allowing our attention to alight on what is right here and now.

Or, getting much closer to my home, sometimes I will tire of this affliction called MS, that progressively slows my gait, impairs my balance, makes my vision flicker like an old TV set.  It is difficult, but there are moments when I can simply notice these phenomena, just notice them.  Or notice a feeling rise up of disdain for this condition.  And then notice my self-judgement: 'why can't I just be with what is? why must I ask why?'  Each new layer of thought, sensation, emotion is yet another opportunity to wake up and see things as they are.  Heavy, difficult...light, simple - what's it like just now?

Who am I to ask who I am?  Is it not enough just to be?