Monkey mind monkey mind mind mine

Gravelly breath, red faced and sweating, thinking of dinner, thinking of muscles and bones and blood, then angry sentences slashing through my head, leading my gaze to darkness.

Back, focus on the floor, focus on throaty breath and stretching my hands my eyes my everything towards the ceiling sky. Incense fills the room, a soothing voice lures me back to the ground.
My wrists hurt and I am happy to feel my body.

Then it starts again.

My monkey mind whirring with rebuttals and justifications and explanations and accusations. My eyes wander and my neck tightens. Anger and frustration.
Inhale.
Exhale.
My legs stretch out behind me and I lower myself to the sticky mat and my mind is quiet for a moment, long enough to realize it is quiet and before it starts chattering again I begin my mantra.
Compassion.
Exhale.
Compassion.
Inhale.
Why can't you understand me? It starts...
Exhale.
Compassion.
I am reaching my arms overhead and breathe and know that the year of lessons continues. My chattering monkey mind continues to run. To frustrate. To dig in deep.
But this time I am prepared.
My hands come together in front of my freckled sweaty chest.
Inhale.
Compassion.
Exhale.
Compassion.

When I was in India eleven years ago and was angry and frustrated with the constant harassment, I read a book by the Dalai Lama. Instead of getting angry at your enemies, he said to fill your heart with love and compassion for them.
It worked.
Until I found myself jettisoning my body out of a rickshaw to rip the fucking throat out of passing jerk who picked the wrong day to grab and catcall. I was not thinking of love and forgiveness as I dove for his head.
Lucky for him, my rickshaw driver was laughing so hard he swerved away.
I didn't reach the guy.


So this whole compassion thing is a challenge for me, but I do believe it works if you cultivate it and at this point, there is too much hatred in the world to feel good about manifesting more.

Inhale.
Compassion.
Exhale.