The Struggle Within

I just finished Deepak Chopra’s Buddha. It is a fictional work detailing the life of Siddhartha, Gautama, and then the Buddha. Having seen Deepak speak in London last year, I have never invested myself in one of his books. There was something that didn’t hit home for me in his teaching. But Buddha is just what I needed to read. The story, in the moments I read it, was a clear message of the discipline and acceptance required to empty our minds sufficiently to really see the world.

Do you ever find that your thoughts just get in the way and control your way of being? I spend so much energy attempting to quiet my thoughts (mostly unsuccessfully). My thoughts can bring inspiration and excitement, but many of my thoughts originate from a deluded or misguided place. I can settle into a sense of who I am, then a voice will start in my head telling me stories of what I am and what I’m not. They are just made up stories that need to be released. The daily work is being constantly able to release them without attaching to them. The ratio is uneven; I go through months of attachment then find a day of release.

I think a lot of people don’t “get” Buddhism, yoga, or meditation. I don’t always attach to the names of these concepts when I think about who I am, but the principles seem embedded in my life anyways. Doesn’t everyone struggle for some sense of control over their wandering mind? Over their purpose? Or is the wandering mind imperceptible to some?

Sometimes when I get really comfortable with someone, I’ll ask… isn’t it just really weird? To be a human, in this place? Where are we and what are we really? I find living to be a really strange experience the majority of the time, except when I forget about how weird it is. Are we just in a big life playground? What’s going on really?

Inside me I do have a calm, unchanging place. I’ve always had it.
Where does that fit into the spectrum of life?


1 thought on “The Struggle Within”

  1. I have to agree with you, I often don’t understand life, and find the whole fact that I’m alive making no sense. I guess it’s one big playground or one big theater, I just don’t know what role I’m playing.

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