The Infrequent Blogger is Happy

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Like many bloggers out there, I have neglected my blog. There are times when I think, well, perhaps it would be better to just delete all of my blogs from the blogosphere. After all, does anyone really read my blog? And do I have the dedication to continue posting. I'll leave these questions open.

The other issue is, at times, well, what IF someone read this blog, and realized that they knew me. I might become embarrassed at my candidness, and occasional willingness to reveal details of the struggles I face as a woman in a foreign country, separated from family, lacking the usual support system most people take for granted.

But then I ponder, isn't that what many blogs are about? We all have our personal challenges, and some of us choose to blog about them. There might just be other people out there who could benefit from our posts, or there might even possibly be kindred souls out there who could share in our struggle in a virtual way. We may not ever meet each other, our paths might never cross. But at least we can feel the support of knowing that someone, or a multitude perhaps, are sympathetic to us. There might even be a few caring souls out there who actually wish us well. Imagine that there are people out there who DO really genuinely wish us the best. People who want us to succeed, and to lead satisfactory, fulfilling lives. These people might exist.

Let us say you are one of the few people who actually read this blog. Just pretend. Okay, I am imagining that there's someone reading this blog.

What I would like to tell you, dear reader, is this. Whoever you are, wherever you are, I wish you happiness. That is all.

When I say happiness, I mean in a very simple way. This has nothing to do with material wealth, or with meeting your dream person, or landing a fabulous job, or anything that exists outside of your own mind. It has to do with finding satisfaction right now, in the moment. Wherever you are, whatever situation you're in, try not to make any value judgements for the moment. Just say to yourself, life is happiness. I live, therefore I am happy. I am breathing now. Breath is happiness.

Happiness does not exist beyond this.

Dukkha as continual state....

Dukkha is the Sanskrit word for the afflictive state of pain we find ourselves in.

Living in the Netherlands is a form of masochism for me. What else, how else can I put it. Constantly being sort of used up. Where is my energy. I don't know. Better to accept the inevitability of it all, and thereby undermine its influence.

The only way "out," or should I say "in," is a strict regimine of meditation. Tomorrow I will begin to box myself in to the discipline that brings a clausterphobic sense of relief. How else can I put it? Whenever I loose my discipline, I can feel it welling up again, the sharpness of dukkha. When I think of doing something else, there is no choice. There's nothing left for me to do but dedicate myself to refuge in the Buddha dharma.

Waking up early, prayers, hour-long meditation. Late night, the same. Otherwise, the unbearable sharpness of the pain simply won't relent. Over and over again I say to myself, my family is not here. Friends, supporters are few and far between. Stop complaining. So many people don't have their families. Untold numbers of people have less support, and live in destitution, which I do not. I can immediately think of many Tibetan friends whose families are locked away in Tibet. They risked their lives to leave Tibet; they'd be risking them again in re-entering. No way in. No way out for the aging parents, small children. My thought, the pain of separation, the loneliness I face. This, I dedicate to those who are also separated from their families. They too have felt the sharpness of this so acutely. And yet, the beauty, the genuineness of their laughter surpasses mine.

Here's the definition of one form of dukkha I found on a website:

"And what is the stress of separation from the loved? There is the case where desirable, pleasing, attractive sights, sounds, aromas, flavors, or tactile sensations do not occur to one; or one has no connection, no contact, no relationship, no interaction with those who wish one well, who wish for one's benefit, who wish for one's comfort, who wish one security from the yoke, nor with one's mother, father, brother, sister, friends, companions, or relatives. This is called the stress of separation from the loved."