My brain is a whirling dervish. Mostly I am in it. It is interesting, flashy, sexy even. Exhausting. I would like to step off that ride for a minute please.
I have been meditating, a little. I like to have definitions for words. My brain, you know, wants them. It is relentless.
Meditation: the process of me being with my busy brain. If there is a part that is only with my brain then that part is not my brain, my mind. Let’s cross over to mind instead of brain. And the meditator is the part of me that is with my mind but is not my mind. I am both these things at once, like a particle and wave, like light. (this is a miracle or science or both…uh oh, here we go again)
The meditating part of me can love the mind but not be the mind. The meditator is engaged in compassion.
Compassion: the act of being with another’s passion. It is not a feeling, but feelings follow it closely. Compassion is the decision to remain when everyone else has lost hope and gone home, but it does not require hope on my part, only that I remain. It is simply the being with when the dervish of the mind or the cyclone of the heart are in full force and overwhelming. I am in compassion when I sit with you while you hurt, not saying anything, just staying. I am in compassion when I let my son or my wife get to the end of their rope and mine and I stay. I am in compassion when I meditate and hang in there with my busy brain, loving it, smiling, and waiting.