Second Thoughts

Lately the Year to Live practice has felt like a burden. I have been struggling with so much resistance--to sitting, in particular. Especially the "Life Review" part of the practice.

The Life Review is just what it sounds like--you sit, calm your mind, and allow events from your past to arise and pass away. You try to let go of all the bad stuff, express gratitude where appropriate, and ask for forgiveness if needed.

In the book, Levine says to stay away from the heavy stuff, the negative experiences, when you begin the practice. And this is where I get stuck. Most of my life has been crazy, especially up to about age 21-22 when I got into martial arts and started meditating a bit.

I was very different then. Violent, for one thing. Against myself, in the form of drug and alcohol abuse. Against others, both physically and emotionally. At one point in my life my favorite thing to do was get into a good brawl. I would get drunk and just go looking for fights. How I didn't get shot or stabbed is beyond me.

I had so much rage and hate boiling up inside of me that it was all I could do to keep myself under control. Sometimes that effort alone was exhausting.

So there's lots of bad stuff there. Lots of painful memories, going all the way back to when I was a really little kid. I don't have that many happy childhood memories. I mean, I have them, but they are far outnumbered by ones dominated by feelings of fear, regret, and anger.

I remember more good things now. But to get to the good things I've had to go through the pages of my old books, reading all the old stories of pride, abandonement, rage, and fear. And as I read them, reliving them vividly. Feeling the waves of emotion that only a 6 year old can feel--utterly consuming, overwhelmingly intense. Letting them pass through me, finally, and trying to come to some sort of resolution. Trying to forgive and let go.

So I guess it should be obvious why I've been resisting practice. It's hard. It's tiring. I don't feel like too many people understand what it's like. I think most of my friends and loved ones find the Year to Live practice interesting; some of them even find it amirable. But it seems like it's one of those things you need to do in order to really understand.

It's intense. When I am fully in it, fully aware of Death on my left shoulder, everything in life is so precious--even the painful parts. In some cases, especially the painful parts--because it's through those experiences that we can gain the most wisdom. And those "bad" experiences have their own beauty; they're real, they're raw, and they're totally human. They are life, in all it's ugly glory.

And that's not to say that I don't think there aren't benefits to the more pleasant experiences I've had. I've had feelings of compassion, forgiveness, and gratitude so intense during a sit that I can feel them--feel them arise from the thoughts, crest as they move through my heart, and then settle deep in my lower belly. Sometimes they start from the other direction--running up through the lower chakras through the top of my head.

But I try not to cling to either of them. And yet, I find myself clinging to the negative, the painful, the things that create suffering. I suspect that's a sign of some unfinished business, some old (and new) loose ends that need to be tied up.

and there are lot of them. I made a list of all the people I feel like I need to make amends to, or that I have some unfinished business with. It's long. In some cases--ok, in ALL of the cases--apologizing and asking for forgiveness is going to take a lot. My ego definately does NOT want to come along for the ride. There are lots of thoughts about "Ah, let it go, it's not a big deal, they probably are OK with it..."

And maybe the people I need to talk with are "Ok with it". But I don't think I am. I have some attachments to those past events. And I committed myself to this practice. I have 7 months and 3 weeks to let go of all of them.

What's really funny is that I get kind of upset when I think of January 2, 2010. Intellectually I know it's not my real death (well, hopefully not) but it still creates a little wave of fear and grief. If I dwell on it, those feelings get very intense. And at the same time--I am totally aware that it's only a mental construct. But...I can't see past 1/2/2010. It's just a blank, an endless black void.

I like it that way. I've always believed that the best way to use an opporunity is to burn your bridges behind you. Not in the sense that we usually use that term--but in the sense of taking away the "outs" we like to leave for ourselves...just in case. Not having a vision of life beyond the next 7 months and 3 weeks forces me to "be here now". There's nothing else, no second chances, no mulligans.

And the truth is, that's our life. All of us, every single person reading this, will die. Sooner or later--and I hope that for all of you it's later. But as far as I know there aren't any do-overs. Once this moment is gone...it's gone. And we can very easily go through our whole life like that. Half-asleep and stumbling through the wilderness, grasping and clinging to anything that we think will show us the path out of the woods.

Wow, depressing. Yeesh. See what I mean?

But in all seriousness...I'd like to challenge everyone who reads this (and there's a surprising number of you--very good for my ego) to spend one day, just one day, living like it was your last. Your last chance to have that conversation with your mom. Your last chance to call up the lover you hurt so many years ago and say "I'm sorry". Your last chance to go to the park with your kids--and really be there with them, not on the phone or chatting with other parents.

Go for it.