This past week – I’ve had a lot of inner hostility and- have repeatedly looked ahead to imagined outcomes of would-be scenarios between my husband and I. These imagined scenarios would typically end in a quarrel and – like in a dream – I would be swept up and become upset. One could surely describe this behavior as-madness.
In the backdrop – I’ve had four consecutive days without a sitting practice. Nothing to point to- in particular – as far as the reason-just happens sometimes. Usually resulting in the impetus to recommit with vigor and determination later on.
The inner tension began around the time I was introduced to an app called yuka – where one scans the barcode of either a food or cosmetic product and-are given a rating as to how beneficial – or not – it is for you. Though – I noticed the app does not consider whether a food has been genetically modified , if it’s organic and – its source. At first, I thought- I don’t need this app to tell me what’s good or bad – but, soon-I was scanning anything I had with a barcode.
From oat milk and diaper creams to deodorant. Soon I had vowed to stop drinking oat milk altogether – found a deodorant made by hand and shampoo made from goats milk and egg. But – then – source is where my obsessive nature became entangled.
I ran out of honey and -assumed -that the grocery store wouldn’t have anything local. Just the plastic honeybears from China or similarly bottled – plastic and labeled “organic”. (Not entirely sure how something like honey can be deemed organic- unless they enclosed an entire football stadium of wildflowers or clover).
I thought-surely, there are local farms that still supply honey – even in late winter – potentially eggs as well. A quick search yielded a farm located just 25 minutes from home but -the hours stated on their website were Saturday 10-2.
With a young child – we have routines in place-making use of every available window-like, hair washing takes places on Saturday mornings.
This conflicted with the farms hours so -I would have to wash my hair on Friday morning instead. That friday my husband had a different kind of engagement other than his usual work -that proved more flexible but – before Id even asked if he may delay it by an hour or so -in order to wash my hair – I became combative with an imagined scenario where he said no. More madness. That morning I was consumed with angry rebukes until I saw him that morning – and, he simply asked – what would you like to do this morning ?
On Saturday morning we were out of eggs and my husband was now eager to drive out to this farm with me but – as per usual , he took a little longer to get ready than my son and I. And again – the combative inner dialogue began – how he still has autonomy and can take his time – while I perpetually scramble and rush. All the while, I hadn’t realized the time -and the farm wasn’t due to open for another 40 minutes and it was only a 25 minute drive.
I relaxed.
Finally, we were en route – and my son began to complain. He’s been undergoing a developmental “leap”-as their commonly known – where he’s generally dissatisfied with a tendency to voice his complaints -about it all .
On the way – for a moment – I thought it funny that I hadn’t called beforehand as I have a tendency to be meticulous with most things. Midway – snow began to fall and George’s mood worsened , he was emanating long pained squeals as he fought with the straps of his car seat.
We assured him we were almost there.
When we finally arrived to the stated address there were no signs denoting a farm of any kind – just a long drive way. My husband – a little aggravated and probably – mostly, hungry-stopped at the edge of the drive and said “this is someones house !” I double checked the address and urged him to drive on and sure enough – we found a squat little home and no signs of a a farm.
So – I finally made that call while – my husband muttered angrily to himself like “this is just some weirdos house “ – and “it’s winter time – Ofcourse there’s no honey .”And – sure enough – they informed me that no – there wouldn’t be honey till end of summer.
That’s when awareness cracked through and I began to laugh. And- continued to do so all the way home. The whole situtatuon – the days leading up to it – it all suddenly seemed so silly. Over prescribing – with so much added weight. All that tension and anger had been building up to that moment – where I could suddenly see clearly again. We move and manipulate to suite our fleeting desires.
In the last couple days I was introduced to a manuscript entitled “I am that” by Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj and I was immediately drawn to it. Something he says sums up my-our, futile efforts”….nothing can happen unless the entire universe makes it happen…”
I’d been undergoing another shift in my being – a slightly different way of seeing. At times I’m able to see its form – a wave that will climax at its peak-followed by a trough -but, without any inner stillness or calm- I , instead -struggled and grasped my way through. As we drove home I resigned myself to showing my son photos on the phone-an object of perpetual fascination for him. At some point he extended his finger and did a quick swipe that created the picture below .
All the moments of the past week – possessing an order beyond my seeing. the lack of a sitting practice , the compulsive scanning of labels, the preoccupation with honey and my unfounded hostility towards my partner- all had their hand in birthing a shift. Maybe Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj is right – absolutely nothing – will happen without the universes full cooperation.
