Shelter from the Storm

Image credit: Photo by max_thinks_sees on Flickr Licensed under Creative Commons

Mark and I were at a beach one day, years ago. It was autumn and the wind was blowing the chill salt air around us. I felt invigorated and happy, the way I always do when I can hear and smell the ocean, and as we walked inside, I was smiling. The warmth of the lobby we were standing in crept through us, and Mark sighed and said, "Whew! I don't think I could ever live this close to the water."

"Why not?" I asked, with a touch of disappointment. Living at the very edge of the world, where land and ocean meet, has always been my dream, and that doesn't work well if your life partner dreads the idea.

"It gets so windy. And the wind is exhausting. I don't realize how hard my body has been working until I'm not in it anymore. Now that we're out of the wind, it's such a relief."

And I knew exactly that feeling -- the struggle just to maintain myself in an environment that was hostile to my particular makeup: the noisy party that I could feel my body relax upon leaving, the bustling city that slipped away on the train ride out, the feeling of guardedness I dropped when I got home from work. It can be such a relief not to have to fight anymore.

Twice this week, I was reminded of Mark struggling against the wind and how he felt stepping inside the warm shelter of that lobby.

An old friend from high school found me -- the real life me -- in a different corner of the Internet. He was always a good and kind person, and he was reaching out to say hi and see what was going on in my life. And as he did, I saw myself through his eyes, the way he knew me and has seen me: a good and kind person in my own right. It was such a relief. I'm building a serenity around myself and a love for myself, regardless of how others perceive me, but it is still, most days, a struggle. It's still work. I'm still fighting the wind of school administrators who think I'm difficult or neighbors who want me to sweep the walk more often or employers who need me to meet a deadline. And in this simple hello from someone who has known me and liked me, I found a moment of quiet and calm and acceptance.

Also this week, while I've been sick in bed, I've been reading a book on Buddhism and the Twelve Steps by Kevin Griffin. As I read his thoughts -- on compassion, on God, on this journey -- I found that same relief. I wasn't fighting the wind of my Christian upbringing, of an external vision of God, of a society that feels compassion is equivalent to weakness or pity or is only for the deserving or the "good." I found my struggles reflected and my spiritual path understood, as I so often do in Buddhism. And I felt like I had stepped into shelter from the storm.

I appreciate that I'm learning to live in the wind, but how I also relish those moments when I'm standing in a warm lobby, free from the struggle for a time.