Reaching out.

I have always had a ‘thing’ for tangible items that might speak to something unspeakable inside of me. Tarot cards, runes, stones, therapeutic card exercises, random little toys, and on and on. Many of these were in card form, and in fact I’ve just spent some time with a co-worker looking at resources for children and young people. I’m not sure what it is.

I like the feel of these cards, which are often quite sturdy with a plastic coating. I like bright colours, flowing words, strong and subtle symbolism. Yet I always keep reaching towards the next thing, hoping that one day I’ll find the perfect whatever-it-is and not put it down. I’m still looking, despite being aware that none of these things will ever be the perfect size to fill this particular hole in my experience.

Religions have often played a similar role. In my time, I’ve run a semi-wide gambit: Catholic, Agnostic, Wiccan, Christian, Quaker, New Age, Humanist, Buddhist. Each spiritual quest has narrowed down what I am looking for, and my exploring is often limited within spheres of Buddhism now. I positively identify as a Buddhist, though I am not clear what type of Buddhist.

I officially belong to a form of Nichiren Buddhism called the Soka Gakkai. I find the philosophy and the people practical and powerful. Yet mindfulness is something I will need to reach out to embrace, as my type of Buddhism isn’t specifically about mindfulness – and I love it. Either way, I often devour things mentally and then have a very difficult time putting things into practice.

As a member of the SGI (Soka Gakkai International), Buddhism is based on faith, practice, and study. There is no God, as such. There is a daily practice of a morning and evening period, and while I can feel the actual tangible benefits in my life from doing it, I don’t carry on. This is true of most things that are good for me, or feel good while doing them.

And I don’t mean ‘good’ in a blase way. I mean it in a deep, connected, and true sense of the word. Good like warm homemade bread, good like walking in fields on a sunny day, good like the first time you are embraced and realise you are safe. Good.

I’m still reading Writing as a Way of Healing, during my lunch breaks when I stay indoors. I think I want to write about my breast reduction, as it keeps coming into my mind lately. Feelings of guilt are strongly attached to this for me, and I want to see what it is like to write about it. I have debated whether to do my fifteen minutes of writing here, or whether to craft and mold a story as the book suggests. I think we all know I get a more immediate release from journalling; whether it is the better option, I don’t know. I also think I could embrace both.

So tonight I want to carve out some time to write. Lately when I get home I am so tired I collapse onto the couch. I’m worried about Louis the Lump, I’m exhausted from working much longer days than I am used to, I am besottted with all the television channels that are now in my life. I’m leaving work an hour early today, so hopefully I’ll manage to find a little time and space for myself and my words this evening.

I think I like little things I can hold and look at because they are outside reminders of all the things I am trying to remember on the inside.

Tags: books, buddhist, creativity, healing, health, inspiration, meditation, outdoors, searching, sgi, spirituality, therapy, writing