The kannon goddess of mercy and compassion on my path.
The "runner's high" is a real thing. I experienced it again, tonight, unexpectedly.
I was about five and a half miles in, actually approaching the end of my run, when I suddenly had this thought about how my regular job, which I often gripe about, has given me the opportunity to develop some invaluable skills in regard to people, understanding, and communication.
I seemed to see for just a split second how many of my ideas about "who I am," or who I want to be, are often so small compared to this "bigger picture," this kind of patchwork quilt of everything under the stars. The Persian rug with each individual actor adding his unique threads to the pattern, but being just a small yet integral part of the whole great happening. How we're all kind of the same. And how I already am, to those little kids I hang out with at the kindergartens here on weekdays, somebody and something special.
I then thought about the concept of "ego death," and as I felt the sensation of being--for lack of better words, I suppose--kind of "one with everything," I got goosebumps, felt some things I can't explain, and then ended up thinking:
This is why everyone uses the same clichéd language to talk about this feeling. It's the closest possible way to describe it..
......WHAT IS ACTUALLY GOING ON HERE!?!?
Then I ended up thinking about how all too often the folks talking so vehemently about things like "compassion,"
"all-unifying love," and "ego death," are often doing so in a very egoistic way, trying to lift themselves up by being the most "egoless." This state of being is even worse, in my opinion, than being an outright heathen. There is this issue, the one that some might call "spiritual pride," and then another. The other is issue of being in our own little bubble. It's a necessity, sometimes, but it also has its limits.
Many people have their profound experience, and are all-enveloped in their own little, special moment, but when another flesh and blood human comes in, not sharing those feelings and not in that moment, things fall apart. Where did all that love and compassion go? Jesus christ! I thought I told you mommy was MEH-DUH-TAYHTING! Close the door!!! I'm trying to master TEMPERANCE!
Love is always a choice, in this reality, because feelings fade, and "annoyances" abound.
Yes, the runner's high is real, and its revelations substantive. The same could be said in many, many cases for the mushroom high, the cannabis high, the heroin high, or the acid trip. Revelations do happen. Profound and universal truths are seen and felt. These lessons do stay. But, ultimately, in this reality, love is not just a feeling or a fleeting, shivery, silvery impression. As unglamorous as it may initially seem, love is a choice.
Love is a choice.
Upon returning home from my run, I said "hi" to my wife and son who were now in bed. I sat down by my son and began to stroke his shoulders and hair. The feelings of oneness, compassion, and love were still with me, and I felt such a strong affection for him. I want to make sure he is always safe and happy, and I was glad to see him. I had been thinking about him a lot while I was running.
In the midst of this beautiful moment, my wife said, somewhat sharply: Get in the shower! Hurry! I was surprised, and a little bit annoyed. Turns out she didn't want my stinky, sweaty ass messing up the bed. I couldn't really blame her. I explained I was kind of having a moment, and she said okay, and was understanding, but still wanted me to get my arm off of the pillow.
I was tempted to get angry, but I remembered what I had thought of on my run. LOVE IS A CHOICE. Besides, I did smell pretty bad. I took off my running clothes and jumped in the shower. I started thinking about how I would write this article. Upon emerging and shaving in front of the mirror, the ideas continued to form. The title. The contents. The direction. Perfect. Peace and quiet in the house now, everyone sleeping, and I can write. I began to floss my teeth. A tiny voice erupted from the other room. I heard footsteps. The annoyed feeling returned. Fuck! I was just getting into my little zone!
The curtain separating our laundry room and kitchen slowly slides back, leaving a narrow triangle of space. A tiny face appears. I stare down at my son, naked, toothbrush in mouth. I am tempted to get annoyed and snap at him to go to bed because it is so late. After all, I have an epic treatise on COMPASSION to write!!!! We stare at each other for a brief, loaded moment. I decide not to snap. Now....what does he want. I need to get to writing.
Daddy? he says, softly.
Whats up, buddy? I say.
I love you.
~KafkA
Graham Smith is a Voluntaryist activist, creator, and peaceful parent residing in Niigata City, Japan. Graham runs the "Voluntary Japan" online initiative with a presence here on Steem, as well as Facebook and Twitter. (Hit me up so I can stop talking about myself in the third person!)
