5:05 p.m. - Tuesday, Jun. 01, 2010
Prometheus Bound
"A calm sea does not make a skilled sailor."
Thank you, fortune cookie.
I'm terrified of not being good enough. Perpetually. What if I can't learn this music by July? What if I can't run this race on Saturday? What if I don't get any students? What if I work in this place forever? What if I'm entering the dark side of the circle?
I hear the voice of Joni singing to me from the speakers. I feel the rainy breeze streaming in through the window. I see the drops of water hitting the puddles and the maroon leaves of the tree blowing in the wind. I'm here now. Neither good nor bad. Just here.
There's something noble about dharma. Getting up everyday to face the same problems, the same mundane existance, the same questions . . .the strength to it again and again. A lifetime of holding my breath has strengthened my endurance. Resilience. Prometheus chained to his rock . . .his liver ripped from his body over and over again . . .day after day . . .
Given the choice . . .knowing the consequences . . .I would still give them my fire.
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