Once upon a time, I suffered horribly. It was a kind of pain that held on and soon enough tightened that hold like a vise. When I spoke to my friends, they assumed my life was most enjoyable and desirable. I had it all, and in their eyes, what could possibly make me suffer? I wasn’t ill, my bones weren’t broken, and my brain wasn’t under the influence of drugs. I had a fantastic quality of living, a great career, a lovely girlfriend named Katrina, and living in the Bohemian part of town in NYC, Greenwich Village.
Big deal. To me, nothing was any good. Nothing would satisfy my desire for more, faster, better.
Nobody understood me when I spoke of my life having no purpose, a lack of meaning, an empty vessel with no essence or room for magic.
Without it, I was dying inside. Everything bored me to tears; nothing made any sense. There was no excitement or curiosity. At 22, I’d seen it all before, and life began repeating itself like a B-rated movie, but worse.
Time for therapy, right? Maybe the pills they prescribe against depression were the way to go.
Why not give them a try? What did I have to lose?
Besides, he was supposed to be one of the best psychologists in the land. And holistic.
What could possibly go wrong?
Everything.
After eight months of trying different medications, I actually got worse, if that was possible.
Much worse. Suicidal worse.
I quit before the terminal stage out of my own analysis of such a disastrous situation.
“What is wrong with me?” I confided in Katrina.
“You never truly lived,” she answered.
“You were too busy for the real in your life, and you stopped caring; you stopped loving.”
“And you let the ghosts in.”
I didn’t understand what she was talking about. I tried to argue that none of this was my fault. I tried to explain that the foundations of society are all wrong — to begin with — and nothing we do makes any sense.
I said — “There’s no love, not from people. They’re all screwed up. When it’s convenient for them and they want something from you, it’s all hunky dory; but when you deny them, you’re an ass.”
“Forget about that; it’s not about them or the way of the world; it’s about you. It’s what you choose to be.”
Then, she dropped the bomb…
“And as much as I love you, and I do love you… I have to let you go.” “You need to face the ghosts that are chasing you and ruling your life — and for that — you’ll need silence, solace.”
I was shocked at first, wondering if she was right. She sounded proper, reasonable, and logical. But then, I realized I couldn’t claim the same for myself.
Still, I didn’t care. I didn’t want her to go, but I was too proud to try to stop her. Besides, I didn’t think I could. She sounded rather definite and she wasn’t the kind to play games.
But what she said did make me think. It was the best mini-diatribe that I had ever heard.
It didn’t take long to see that she was correct on everything, except the leaving part.
No one had ever left me before. I wasn’t used to that. I was the one always leaving, for one reason or another. Usually, it was because the “thrill” had expired and became “same old, same old.”
The Greek poet Menander said in 300 BC: “Time is the healer of all necessary evils.”
It took loads of it, but I reconciled with my ghosts and confronted my ego-controlled petulance.
For the first time since I was a child, the spark of life rekindled inside me. I went to Nepal and locked myself in a Zen monastery for guidance and support. There, what I discovered would have to be a sequel to this story as it’s an event in and of itself, and I’d be digressing.
One could argue I discovered my true essence and left the skin of the vessel that wasn’t me behind. Forever.
How to pray or meditate.
Can we say that self-examination equals contemplation? Does contemplation mean introspection? When we meditate, can we invoke all those elements together?
Or if we pray, do we pray outwardly or inwardly?
Do we pray for ourselves mostly, or do we ask universally for help to do something external that needs complete attention?
Most of us don’t know ourselves very well since life itself is constantly changing. We are not the same as before, and we won’t be the same in the future.
That is the beauty of being alive. To continually strive for a better version of ourselves.
We begin to suffer unnecessarily when we think about what we don’t have but want. It’s the same when we start comparing ourselves to others or wish we could be in their situation: having a bigger house, more prosperous friends, or the latest model car, so we fall into the ego trap.
And ego has a bad reputation for not letting go. It will surely ruin your day!
But as soon as we realize such a dynamic, ego loses its grip and you regain yours.
We might stumble, even fall, but we’re growing with each and every one of them.
One can remember what it was to be young. We can recall the worst mistakes we made. But the remarkable realization is precisely that: to recognize what they were and hopefully not repeat them. At least not in the same way.
To know ourselves is the meaning and the purpose of our existence. For the most part, all our lives we’ve been searching, whether we realize it or not.
Because for most of our lives, we repeat what we’ve been told. And that’s certainly not who we are, organically speaking.
Only after we face that conundrum and resolve its dilemma, can we evolve and help ourselves and others.
Incredibly, the answer to our query is straightforward. All we need to know is already within us.
It’s our essence and divinity.
Be present.
That is all we need.
Presence will show the way, and presence will lead us to all understanding.
When watching nature, be fully there. Or when we drink our tea, be there. In all the menial tasks, our chores, our meditations, don’t stray away from the moment. Be there completely.
There’s nobody except you who knows that presence. Enjoy it at all times and live your life for the moment, in the moment.
There’s nothing else that could create such bliss.
It’s the kind of bliss that won’t abandon you; all you have to do is just…
Be There.