Don't Hold Back
I've been thinking a lot about difficulty. More accurately, I've been experiencing and feeling my way through a series of difficulties that my rat race mind is ill-equipped to handle. While this is nothing new (I've known for a long time that the mind's ability to come up with solutions is useful only in the final stages of a lesson), it is still tempting to let my thoughts run through familiar mazes. I'll spare you the details, but when I finally arrive battered, exhausted and without a penny to my name at the same place I began, I finally start to let go.
I picture myself as a Kyudo archer practicing "Standing Zen." The goal is to breathe, be present, acknowledge and release anything that comes up. So many people, so much pain, so much anger, resentment and blame. I breathe, nock an arrow, raise and draw the bow.
In "Standing Zen," shooting the arrow is not a test of skill, but a way to focus on an inward target - something you are intent on knowing and remembering about yourself. Free from past and future, balanced and focused in the present, you shoot from your heart towards the center of yourself.
With every breath I allow who and what I am to pour into that arrow. I infuse it with gratitude and wonder, satisfaction and delight. I cure the wood of the shaft with love of earth - the songs of cicadas and whales and wolves; the light of fireflies flaunting their passion and the cooing of doves nestling into sleep. I stroke the feathers, smoothing the barbs into place so their flight will be effortless and true. Finall