Thursday, March 25
This morning i am in a motel room in corona, california with my son. he is sleeping still. his body sprawling on the drab floral motel bedspread. his legs are so hairy. he is a man now, i guess. almost 18, not quite old enough to buy cigarettes.
i look at him and i think how we have been through so much together. family relationships are where the rubber really hits the road in spiritual work. if you think you are enlightened, spend a weekend with your parents. it is humbling. in that humbling is great humanity. an opportunity to be in the heart, even if it is painful sometimes.
i love my son. i have made choices that have hurt him, that had made things difficult for him. he shows me his pain and it is difficult to see. he tells me that last year he would drink every day after school to numb his pain. but i remain steadfast in my love, in trying my best each moment to be clear and present. to listen instead of talk. to witness instead of rushing to defend or fix with thoughts and words. to be here and to feel. my own parents were not able to witness me. it was too painful for them and so they would deny or blame me. it was too risky for them to see and feel those things in themselves.
it seems that after we talk about the difficult things, that's when we laugh the most. when we feel so close.
and the miracle is that this living relationship, this messy human interaction, is moving between us. in our loving, we express our emotions, not always pretty. but we fumble towards forgiveness and mutual understanding that is the closest thing to grace i know. i feel grateful to be here now.