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I used to believe that there is inherent good in everyone.
I used to believe that my tears could heal the wounds of the world around me.
I used to believe that there is only right and wrong.
I used to believe in hero's and happy endings.
I used to believe in third and forth chances.
I used to believe that I was what other people said I was.
I used to believe that when forced to react there is no choice, this no fault.
I used to believe that if I tried hard enough I could get things right.
I used to believe that the past dictates the future.
I used to believe that my dreams would come true.
That was once upon a time, when there was that simple line between right and wrong. Stealing was wrong. Telling the truth was right and good. Hurting others was wrong. Helping others was very good.
Now, many years , tears and scars later, things are not so simple. No longer does stealing to feed your two children seem wrong, nor does helping others bring you compliments and comfort. Murder is only murder if proven beyond a doubt, prison and "correctional training" are nice and peachy. The disappearance of a child is but a whisper on the bottom of the news paper. Doing the right thing doesn't always guarantee reward or respect.
So many shades of gray, so very slippery.
We practice the "art of peace", do we not? Yet there is that trembling line that separates victim from aggressor. Things become blurred, the lines fading and obscuring, roles reversing and the old quest
For the first time in many months I watched the sun rise, quietly listening on to the sleepy noises of the night. In my transition into yoga, I learned to dip my hands into the stillness inside. The calm that resonates in that spiritual pool has eluded me for three years now. Instead of breaking into my usual routine , I sat out on the balcony , wrapped in my blanket and simply listened and absorbed everything around me.
.I think sometimes, we as individuals, and especially as Aikidoka, forget about focus.
You see, I was amazed when I first came to Grand Junction… I was in a place where there were no skyscrapers to overshadow me, no smog clouds to burn my lungs. As time has gone by, being on my own has taken its toll. Stress and illness have brought my spirits down and depression has waited for me to drop back into its vicious cycle. Now, as more issues arise, I found my self to be verging a breakdown. I spent the last many nights restless, upset not knowing why.
Yet I awoke this morning, two hours before my alarm clock was set and crept away from the warm safety of my bed. Looking out the window and past the cars in the parking lot, I saw the first lines of dawn begin to crawl across the Mesa's . I had stared so long at the things around me that I forgot why exactly I was here. Watching the Mesa's warm with morning light, I realized how small and insignificant I am in comparison to those natural landscapes. Cool, comforting calm settled over me.