I returned to the vacuum to see if I could get it working. I couldn’t, but I think I targeted the problem. I broke a fingernail, which is really no big deal for me, but it was an odd enough little nothing to snap my attention to the chaotic play of events. I still had class notes in which to center myself, and not enough time to make that happen. My wonderful, understanding student showed up to a hut and teacher in a state of flurried chaos, neither ready nor grounded nor focused on the task at hand. I put the kettle on, cleaned up and changed, said a prayer, smudged myself and eventually settled into the space I needed to be. I think. I hope. For her sake.
Several hours later, I sit with this day and make my protest against it. I light a candle, I burn some sage, I light a stick of incense, I ring the tingshas and feel myself return to myself. For the first time all day I breathe with awareness, deep and full.
In that welcome moment of breathy stillness, I honor the conditions that led me to my disapproval of the day. For in them, somewhere, are nuggets of gold. Of this I am certain and grateful.
I just hope I don’t have to wait for the coal to compress.