Klesha

These past few weeks, more than few, six, seven, eight maybe nine…. Wait has it been weeks, months, years? How far back does this go? Can I trace it back to the beginning? What is the beginning, where to even begin? When has it not felt hard? When has life not felt hard?

I know this past bit has felt hard. Challenging. Tough. Rough. Uncomfortable. Icky. I am tired. I am drained. I have little energy. I am experiencing bouts of nausea and pain. Shallow breaths and tears. Sleepless nights and restless energy. Wanting to find myself in some sort of clearing, some resemblance of a break from this enigma of the mind. The mind that keeps telling me that I am not doing enough and that if I had, I wouldn’t be here. That me being here is proof that I am not doing enough and if I had done enough, then I would not be experiencing this.  I can add pretty much anything to the if, if you stopped eating ice cream, if you stopped drinking diet coke, if you sat for mediation, if you didn’t stop your practice, if you started another sadhana, if you never left your job, if you hadn’t spoke up, if you had continued to suck it up…

Ah, what I am seeing now is this pattern. It is not only if, it is if you. if you stopped eating ice cream, if you stopped drinking diet coke, if you sat for mediation, if you didn’t stop your practice, if you started another sadhana, if you never left your job, if you hadn’t spoke up, if you had continued to suck it up…

Which leads to, why can’t you just go with the flow, why can’t you see something through to the end, why can’t you keep a commitment- to yourself and to others.

And there, with those words I get a jolt because I know this is not true. Who is this talking to me. Who is this pointing a finger at. Who is saying this- YOU, YOU, YOU? What is the saying, whenever you point a finger at someone, three fingers are pointing back at you….I know that I have made a commitment to myself and I have held commitments to myself and to others. (the blue jay calls as I type, they are in agreement). At times, I hold commitments to myself in ways that end up hurting, harming and hindering myself.

This, as with everything else I have learned in life, I have learned through experience, first hand experience. Experience that comes with a lot of feelings and emotions.  Experience that comes with memory and imprints, traces left of the path I have taken, the choices I have made. Like visual markings on a tree, these actions leave traces on the screen of my mind. Flashes pop up out of nowhere reminding me. Reminding me that I have stepped, that I have acted, that I have endured, that I have succeeded. Showing me that I have felt hurt, that I have been confused, that I have been lost, unsure. And at the same time, other images pop in, trying to get control of the screen- images of me smiling and laughing, images of me elated, moments of silence and grace, of stillness and peace.

And these are more examples, mere examples of the enigma, the tug of the mind. Good, bad. Right, wrong. In line, out of line. Accepted, rejected. Clear, confused. The tug used to feel like a game of back and forth. A pulling, rather a yanking from one side to the other. Now the battle is taking place between my heart and my mind. This back and forth, rather than side to side is now up and down. My neck and throat are in between, tired, exhausted and in pain.

I am still getting done the stuff that needs to get done. I have not checked out all of the way, although there are times in which I have made SOS calls to friends because moments have felt very questionable. Moments in which the gravity of my despair and despondency feel they are doing anything they can to bring me down into the depth and the weight of it all is literally crushing, crippling and debilitating. These moments come and then they go. They come in with strength and force, a force so strong it feels as if I am trying to move in molasses. Everything feels like work. Then moments of grace come, the clouds part (literally and figuratively), I see the light and am energized. Ready for more.

It is not that I am standing on guard waiting for doom and gloom. I know this because there was a time when that was the case. There were times when I was on watch, vigilant watch out to catch any movement, any action, any word or phrase that would send a sharp blow to my fragile state. These moments seem to come out of nowhere, like storm brewing without warning or a flash flood and instantly I am swept away. I have lost my footing, the ground underneath. My rooting and my foundation are shaken and I question what I am tethered to, if anything at all.

I know that I am not alone. I know that I am supported. I know that I am held. I know that I am loved. And I also know that when I am in these moments, when I am swirled up it feels like some force larger than me has taken over, I am really lost. I am in a cloud of confusion and doubt, uncertainty and instability. And it does not feel good.

So today, this morning when the sun was rising, I could see how her ray, her warmth and light warmed the patch of grass with her gaze. A tiny sliver in between a vast yard of frozen moisture was melting. This was, and is a welcomed way to wake and begin my day. Trusting and knowing the light always comes.  The light always comes.

I set forth on my list of things to accomplish. One of them was to peel away the wrappers of the crayons. I will be with children tomorrow in a city park and maybe, just maybe an invitation will present itself to make some marks or rubbings, some traces of nature. I have no idea what will happen tomorrow as we enter the space and I would like to have some tools on hand to extend an opportunity should it arise.

Sitting on the front porch, under the loving gaze of light and warmth from the sun, I began peeling away the wrappers. Some pieces came off with ease. Some paper came off whole, intact, as a simple unwrapping. Other pieces were ripped and came off in tiny pieces. Some wrappers had more than one layer. Some pieces of paper remained stuck to the crayon and then some had this residue, this sticky clear residue that remained once the layer was removed.

And, like I have been doing when moments like this come, I cackled. Full on cackled. Yes, yes. Yes, of course. This sticky residue, this layer that wants to remain, that is tricky to get off. This is the klesha, the klesha. I have heard of my teacher talk about this, this sticky stuff that remains, this sticky stuff that “is more sticky than gum in the hair,” as he would share. This residue, this residual stuff that wants to remain, even when we have peeled back all of the layers, exposed all of the stuff.  I can hear another teacher’s words, “just when we think we have gotten it all, there is a little bit more. There is always more.”

When I am doing readings, I liken klesha to the rim of grime and grease, the ring that remains in the sink once you drain it after doing dishes. Or some might recall the pink line in the tub from The Cat and the Hat.  Sometimes, you wash the sink or basin and watch it all go down the drain. Standing back, with a satisfied grin I think, clean, sparkly, spotless. Only to find one tiny mark and you turn on the sink again and it begins to fill and up from the drain the residue emerges. The stuff that you think you dealt with, took care of, scoured with soap and cleaner is there and it is the grim, this residue that is smiling back at you with a satisfied grin- you think you can get rid of me. Not so fast. I do not go without putting up a fight. It is not that easy.

This is the klesha. This klesha is the sticky residue of karma, the stuff that remains, that is hard to remove. The stuff that seeps up from the drain, the stuff that goes down the drain and leaves a ring. And in my case, the fine layer that is not paper, but not wax, it is the glue that holds them, that binds them to one another.

Oh, yes. This bondage. This attachment. This sticky stuff that holds and binds. That adheres and clings. That remains and stays. The stuff that does not want to go.

Yep, here is it. For me to see. For me to laugh at. It finally made itself known.

This force. This strength. This resistance. This fight. This battle.

It is klesha.  And now that it is known, now that I can see it. I can work with it.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

A simple gift that arises from a seemingly mundane task has me seeing and knowing.

And smiling from ear to ear.

For it is actually the glue of love that is here, this force of love that is saying:

Let’s go.

S

*Written on this day of Budh, when Budh and Shani Dev are conjunct. Yep, this is the love that is always here, loving me.