A Mind For Peace
No Worries, No Blurries
“Blurries” isn’t a real word, apparently. But guess what, I’m choosing to stay calm and keep writing this article.
Worrying is a thing. Though.
I recently moved to a new town, got a new job, live in a new neighborhood, am meeting new people, trying new things, all of the above/etc. I love it here. There’s a lot of potential. My heart is open for all of it.
Worrying is a thing. Though.
Last Friday I stressed out for no reason. Someone at work casually mentioned that I’m still considered an outsider and they haven’t chosen to bring me into the group yet.
My response was that I’m used to being left out. This part doesn’t deter me from continuing to strive to do the work I came onboard to do, I responded.
I remain strong, as my usual, cooperative self chooses this be so.
I play along. I make fun. I passively agree.
Worrying is a thing. Though.
As much as we practice remaining calm and carrying on with our highest intentions for peace, collaboration, kindness, and compassionate interactions, life comes to us/at us from all angles, in all energetic shapes and imprint sizes. Greedy coworkers, family members and/or other relatives and friends [not to mention a plethora of outside influencers yanking for our attention] may still continue to hook our energy in service of their need to be [insert common day need here].
Side effects include: stress, blurred ideas about how to cope with their energy, forgetfulness about our own well-being, inattention to the present moment of miraculous possibilities; death to fun.
Okay. Slowing it down here…
This post isn’t about the people I work with. (You don’t know them. They don’t know you.) This post is about the standardized structures of “cooperation” we all commune in.
What are these standardized structures?
That’s my point. I think old structures are slowly chiseling away. It is up to us to define and create our own (high) standards for our daily encounters and interactions. And teach these to each other.
I also met the neighbors.
Faith and spirituality came up, so I shared about my spiritual practice. The simplest way I have found to describe it is: Buddhist-Christian.
One of them kindly nodded and said, “so you’re open minded.”
This gave me a knee-jerk reaction. I used to be very open minded. My open mindedness got me into a lot of sticky situations with friends, family, coworkers, and even strangers on the street asking me to walk to an ATM with them and pull out a few $20 bills to help them through an emergency. (Which I did. 20 years ago. In San Francisco.)
I wouldn’t use that term to describe myself anymore.
I would say I’m not open minded. Rather, I’m open hearted.
The mind lies to us.
The heart tells us what it really feels. What it senses. What it knows. The mind invents stories. The mind cycles ideas. The mind runs scenarios. The mind reenacts old hurts... sometimes hurting the heart, repeatedly, with its incessant need for attention. The mind opens doors to misinformation and confuses itself when it doesn’t have a viable methodology for discernment.
The mind worries. The mind blurries.
The heart is our methodology for discernment.
Thus, I have learned to keep my mind on a leash. I used to allow it to wander in all directions. My heart has taught me discernment. I have now become very strict with what I allow my mind to think and how to think.
This has become my standardized structure for interacting with others: Quickly identifying and diffusing bad ideas seeking to lead me astray from my heart, astray from the joy, love, hope, blessing, and community my heart strives to co-create.
The mind is indeed a vigorous beast.
My simple practice is this: I keep my mind on a leash, and train it to mind the peace.
