I dropped my iphone on the pavement today as I was fiddling around with my music. It was already shattered from the last time I fiddled over pavement, and now it’s unavoidable: I have to get it fixed.
After shrieking damn it and startling a few passers by, I had to release a hardy laugh. Oh well. Ooooooh well.
My heart maybe got a little twice-busted, too. And like my phone, I knew I had to finally fix it. I had to look out for what’s best for me; cut my losses and pony up to choose for my own well-being.
Yesterday, I had a gin-n-tonic induced chat with a friend about the point of life. He was telling me about his depression and how he sometimes hates on life, and it made me think of my meditation practice:
I regularly meditate and occasionally have euphoric sessions. Because my practice is still young, I tend to crave those moments. I want to reach that blissful state again and again, but sometimes it’s just not in the cards. I struggle through the entire, grueling hour. Still, I meditate because it helps me to be present with my entire life – through the most mundane and painful moments, but also through moments of love.
Like meditation, life can feel sucky. It’s a reality. Sometimes life just isn’t a big deal. It’s about doing laundry. Sometimes it’s painful – letting go and not running away from the pain that comes from the release.
I’ve been wandering the city on this beautiful spring day, watching children play and people chat over coffee on the terrace. I’ll take some comfort in being amongst them, because they remind me: whether busted phone or heart, life goes on.