As a swimmer, who cherishes the activity for its meditative solitude, I relate to the incident described. I find myself judging the lane blocker as an inconsiderate woman. There was room in the lane for both and not only did she not stay on one side, but she hit the swimmer. The story teller may have accessed the meditative calm to absorb that angry and invasive presence and convert it into compassion, yet the story lingered to eventually need release in this writing. In her situation, I would want to give myself permission to allow my story to be released gently back in the moment. I would want the gumption and presence to calmly say "Ouch! that hurt. You are a strong woman." I would like to leave the pool with "Enjoy your exercise class" shoutout to her. But even as I write this I know that the presence, gumption and calm are immediately lost when I am hurt. Unhooking from judgment and fear is not going to save me from getting hurt. Nothing is. Simply accepting my truth that sometimes I hurt and being able to own and bear that kindly, is what I wish for.
On Jul 22, 2014 Jyoti wrote :
As a swimmer, who cherishes the activity for its meditative solitude, I relate to the incident described. I find myself judging the lane blocker as an inconsiderate woman. There was room in the lane for both and not only did she not stay on one side, but she hit the swimmer. The story teller may have accessed the meditative calm to absorb that angry and invasive presence and convert it into compassion, yet the story lingered to eventually need release in this writing. In her situation, I would want to give myself permission to allow my story to be released gently back in the moment. I would want the gumption and presence to calmly say "Ouch! that hurt. You are a strong woman." I would like to leave the pool with "Enjoy your exercise class" shoutout to her. But even as I write this I know that the presence, gumption and calm are immediately lost when I am hurt. Unhooking from judgment and fear is not going to save me from getting hurt. Nothing is. Simply accepting my truth that sometimes I hurt and being able to own and bear that kindly, is what I wish for.