Silence

In my quest to discover my dormant spirituality, Anthony de Mello's book Sadhana was recommended to me. I requested it from the library last week and it has been sitting on my nightstand, underneath all the other books I brought home after the LSAT. I picked it up last night, taking advantage of a wiped out baby and a clean apartment. I've attempted various forms of meditation -- guided and alone, guided in a group and regular old empty-the-mind contemplation on my own -- and it's never quite stuck. I think my biggest issue is not letting go and trying so hard to make the inner silence happen, which just invites the cacophony of thoughts to take over. And, like everyone else in my generation, I struggle with a short attention span. When I relax and just let my mind go, I immediately think of like nine other things I could/should be doing, focusing in on one until I can't resist it, give up on meditating and go do the other thing.

I'm not saying this book or the particular path I am on right now is what has changed things for me in terms of being able to listen to myself, but it feels right in this moment. I worked through the first exercise last night, which was just practicing being silent and listening to what your mind does when it's allowed to wander, but not reel. The book suggests writing down what you feel and think while doing the exercises, which I have never thought to do before, and I think writing down my experience really helped crystallize my quiet thoughts. Things have been a little challenging as a family lately and L and I haven't had much time to spend together, awake and talking. Being silent for just ten minutes last night gave me a little reprieve to feel vulnerable and admit to myself that I need a little relief, comfort, someone or something to catch me, even for just a little while. Life in San Francisco is becoming totally overwhelming and both of us feel that it's not really worth the strife and the stress to be here anymore. Gentrification is pushing us, a middle-class working family, out of the city because we frankly can't afford to do much outside of making sure our basic needs are met. The current tech bubble is turning the city in a land of so many haves, people who don't blink at hyper-inflated rental prices and are blind to the effects of gentrification. We both loved this city so much, and while the effects of gentrification are certainly not the root of our troubles, it has changed and doesn't feel like home anymore. The stress of everyday living in a place where we don't feel happy is exhausting.

This post went off on a really weird tangent, so I'll just end it with this observation:  Even when things are shitty and you are exhausted from just being alive, it is wise to take some time and space to listen to yourself.