Lots of Little Troubles

Green And Wet

SANDIA CASINO, ALBUQUERQUE, NM—This month I’ve been hit with lots of little troubles:

  • A leak in a propane line under my rig. “Fixed” by applying JB Weld.
  • The propane gas switch (to switch between tanks) suddenly stopped working. “Fixed” by just using the longer hose I had “mistakenly” bought months ago which reaches the second tank without having to swap them out.
  • The heater core on my truck started leaking coolant (the smell that I mistook for a dying transmission). “Fixed” by bypassing the heater core altogether.
  • The logic card in my computer fried, displaying a test signal and rendering the laptop useless. “Fixed” by buying another computer.
  • All my photos from last month were lost. “Fixed” by saying, “Oh well” and giving you an image from my archives.

The mind tries to make your troubles much larger than they are. It shouts, “Listen to me! This is serious!” It tries to make your troubles personal.

Minds are sooo dramatic.

As morbid as this may sound, keeping your impending death constantly in mind—your physical death—and focusing on you-as-a-Soul, will greatly ease your burdens and put your troubles into a much more “civilized” perspective.

Making friends with Death sounds morbid and dark—I know—but it works wonders.

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5 thoughts on “Lots of Little Troubles

  1. “Making friends with Death sounds morbid and dark—I know—but it works wonders.”

    This really resonates for me.

    Though I’ve never feared death as much as debilitation (becoming paralyzed, losing a limb, etc), possibly at least in part from reaching the age of 60 I’ve realized I’m becoming more free from even the occasional death fears.

    (If I can figure out a way of earning even $300-500 per month average on the road in a small RV, our paths may cross someday soon; your fantastic landscape photos from the state parks in northwest New Mexico put that area tops on my list to visit.)

  2. For me, I’ve noticed that the mind is becoming more like background noise–with longer periods of nothing at all–which is SO nice. I feel my inner energy field at all times and that is how I stay so present to the moment. But when something ‘out there’ in the world strikes a conditioned response, the mind gets fast and loud.

    After more than a year of social solitude, I have recently ventured out into society again. Beloved instructed me to take a group of women through ‘The Artist’s Way’–something I have facilitated a number of times over the years. I have begun writing a book and started a blog about my journey–feel like I am just returning from the dead.( I suppose I am!) Naturally the critics are there to greet me as I emerge. It is fascinating to watch the mind in this process– with all its memories and ideas about who Frankie is–while at the very same time I can ‘feel’ my subtle body stretching out to infinity.

    You’re so right about living in two worlds. As for thinking on physical death-I know what you mean. It is a good way to stay present to what is real. But I have also come to a place where my physical body feels like a garment. The subtle body shimmers beneath it–thru it–around it… all of those things.

    If you are interested here is my blog: franceskatherine.blogspot.com.

    It’s always a pleasure to read your posts.

  3. Commiserations mon brave. ‘My’ (giggle) mind has this thing about taking petty glitsches and accidents personally. Or it might rationalise, saying it’s ‘bad karma’ coming home to roost. Truth (?) is, what Shakepeare said, these are ‘the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.’ That said, one continues to have this dream of everything running smoothly for the ‘Master’, as for Donald Shimoda in Richard Bach’s ‘Illusions.’

  4. Yes, ‘making friends with death’ is a great idea and works wonders. The ego being a very finite and defined concept cant make any sense of death and so the realisation that this body is here for only so long cuts through all the bs very quickly.

    I’ve been playing a lot of guitar lately, writing songs etc, and I often come to this spot where I find it difficult to let go and just let whatever comes out, come out. The center of this problem comes from the mind/ego not being able to understand why Im playing in the first instance, and trying to hijack the artistic process for its own purposes. And so I often get stuck in this ‘no-mans land’, of not writing from the point of view of the ego but not being able to fully let go either, almost like being stuck in some kind of an existential vacuum.

    The mind is really scared of fully letting go, because it doesnt make any sense to let go, and it is terrified of the perceived emptiness that is the consequence. The realisation of ultimate death has helped me to cut through that crap and smoke the devil out somewhat. So thanks!

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