Vedanta’s 2 Symptoms of Enlightenment: Calmness and Coincidences

I’ve never woken up before the sunrise on a regular basis during the summer, and I was surprised to find out that even the sun struggles to wipe the sleep and stars out of it’s eyes. The moody clouds slip away as the caffeine starts to thud in our veins with it’s normal rhythm, the thump-thump of my heartbeat marking pace for the sweet serenade of the mourning doves

Mourning doves are truly the only real “morning people.”

I am not.  In fact, I wanted to be nothing like those birds.  I will mourn nothing this summer, I told myself, because I am going to grow and make money and learn to become a real adult. What I didn’t realize is that becoming an adult is ultimately a process of mourning.  The early 20s are so hard because you are mourning the loss of your childhood innocence, the loss of your dependence on your family, the loss of the happiness that used to tinge your rose-colored glasses.  Becoming an adult is actually a very sad thing – now you know why children think adults never smile.

I promised myself that I would learn to like myself even if I didn’t like the circumstances in which I found myself.  I would try and figure out how to live at peace when all of my choices left me mangled inside and wondering how my life was supposed to be a masterpiece when the broken pieces kept slipping through my fingers.

That’s the thing about life. It’s a mosaic.  All the shattered glass, all the accidents that cause the vase to fall off the table, all the scratches and the grooves, the mismatching colors and tiles that don’t fit together quite right – that’s what my life is made of. It’s a glorious mess that sometimes cuts my fingers if I try to manipulate it too much.

I’m grateful for it.  I wasn’t always that way, but I’m learning.

I’m learning to let go.  My plan for my life is nothing compared to the plan that God has for me.  Sometimes it’s nice to remember that He hold the world and therefore, he can handle this moment in my life.

I’m learning to be grateful.  I’m learning to appreciate the little things, like brown sugar in my oatmeal (it’s gross without it – like eating flavorless vomit) and coffee that doesn’t come from a packet.  And I may spending 3 hours commuting to-and-from work, but at least I have a lot of time to listen to the radio.

I’m learning to find peace. Did you know you can pray with your eyes open?  And you don’t have to say the words out loud?  AND you can pray for things that happen in the moment, or will happen in a few minutes or months or years?  Seems like a common sense thing, but I’m just starting to figure it out.

It’s quite enlightening.  I’m peeling back the layers to find a more refined person in my skin than I thought existed.  She’s calmer than I am.  She remembers to breathe when she’s walking down the hallway. I even think she has less muscle knots than I do…

I’m not in school right now, but it’s amazing how much I’m learning.

 

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The story of man runs in a dreary circle.

It was 2013 and I was sweating nervously thinking about the amount of perspiration that I would shed during the many hours that I would invest to play soccer at my college – as if the schoolwork enough wasn’t intimidating enough.

It was 2014 and I was moaning at the thought of going to nanny for 4 boys all summer and not getting paid nearly enough to run around and chase “noise with dirt on it” for eight hours.

It was 2015 and I could feel the half-eaten oatmeal churning in my stomach thinking about returning to my internship at SBMF and having just another one of many crappy days as I extracted protein from stool samples.

It’s 2016 and now I’m dreading driving my hour commute tomorrow to arrive at my official first job where I begin to learn how to detest corporate America and the healthcare regulations.

Year after year after year and I realize that history repeats itself every summer. Somehow, all I want to do is take a breath and be satisfied with where I am in life. Maybe that’s why the 20s are so hard.

Truly no matter how close you are currently to where you want to be for the rest of your life, and no matter how your fingers itch for the next step, and no matter how little space remains between this time and the next – satisfaction and happiness are dangerously illusive.

You’d think I would’ve learned by now.

But I haven’t.

In fact, I’m stuck in the same place I was before, wondering how I’m going to get through this summer just like the others.

I’m thankful for/to:
1) have a job in the first place
2) to be able to live at home with wonderful people that I don’t get to see nearly as much as I wish I could during the rest of the year
3) to have a best friend who can encourage me and wipe the tears away and remain close despite the miles between us.

I’m trying something that I didn’t do before. The goal is to wake up early, appreciate my time, actually eat breakfast, pray for peace and rest for my weary soul, and remember the things that I should be, and am, grateful for. If history repeats itself and I haven’t found a way that works in the past, maybe I should try something new.

Switch my mindset.

Alter my own reality.

Find a new identity.

But maybe, if history truly repeats itself, then maybe I’m not becoming a new person at all. Maybe I’m finding the person that I was before, who resurfaces whenever I need her to.