Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Rushing towards Brilliance: A Tale of Being Ordinary

   Yes, I am rushing again. Well, not quite yet, but I'm trying to. You see, I'm holding myself back. I'm trying to be spacious as I write, but my mind is thinking "I've got 25 minutes to write something brilliant!"
   And then I thought, do I really have to be brilliant and clever ever time I write to you, Oh dear Reader? Can I not be just be myself in this moment, not particularly brilliant and clever, just me in an ordinary moment of drinking tea?
  Would it be okay, Oh dear Reader, if I didn't have anything wise to say, no wit or rhyme to pass the time? (Okay, I just couldn't help that one, it just rolled off my tongue, down my fingertips and onto the page.)
  Would you still read if I didn't have a story to tell, oh dear Reader? If I just sat here and wrote and showed you a moment of my mind?
  You see, I've been thinking about my desire to do things well, not just well, but perfectly. I do like to strive for perfection, and yet I know, as I know you know, the follies of such a pursuit. So today, I thought it might be nice to honor imperfection with less than perfect writing. Not bad writing, mind you, that's too much of a leap, just writing that's okay, that's good enough for today. Maybe not publishable, at this point, but okay enough to share with you.
  Oh dear Reader, what do you think? Is it okay for me to write in this way, to let you in on one of the deepest human secrets, that we are all just doing the best that we can right now, with the resources that we have? Know that I am giving you the best of me in this moment and that is all I can ask of you.
  The sun is shining through the orange silk curtains, giving the living room a sunset glow. The white fuzzy dog is sleeping on a frayed stripped mat, just inches away from the streams of sunlight. And I am writing on a red sofa, drinking a Chai latte. I smile at the sleeping dog and the sun that creeps towards him.
  Oh, here my mind goes again – "Only ten more minutes to write something brilliant. Come on, hurry up! Hurry up and be brilliant!" I take a deep breath and smile, seeing my thought like a cloud – there, but not there, surrounded by the vibrant, singing space of the sky.
   I sigh. What a relief. It's just a thought. I don't have to believe it, or have to do anything with it. I don't have to be brilliant at all. For what is brilliance but a golden line I have drawn high in the sky, a line I'm always trying to jump over and safely land on the other side. The golden line, like the cloud, is there, but not there at all. It is as solid as I make it to be and the more transparent it is, the more I see its true nature – a concept of my mind, nothing more.
   Another breath, another smile. My mind says "Three more minutes to be brilliant! Oh, you must hurry." My smile grows into a grin, for I know this part of myself very well. And today, I don't fight with it, I see it and then it drifts away. But can I do the same tomorrow? Ahh, that is just another thought, another cloud to see through. The clouds drift away with every breath, as awareness dissolves the thick cloak of ignorance, the veil that keeps me from seeing that "I" am not at all what I think I am, but so much more.
 Another breath, another smile. Ahh, it is done. It is good enough. Not brilliant, not perfect, but infused with presence and gentleness. Not rushed or hurried, as my mind would have it, but spacious and clear.
Another breath, another smile, another thought. And on it goes…

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, Angela Dawn MacKay 

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