The Disease of More

Breathing In © twyatt2018

The disease of more lives entirely outside of the now.

The disease of more is fueled by whatever it can grab to feed and keep its destructive combustion aflame, be it food, alcohol, money, time, even love at times.

We all have it in varying degrees.

Some of us have a natural aversion and properly tuned central nervous system that responds and shuts down fueling the fire before significant harms are done to others or ourselves. Others, like me, may yet have a few ounces of aversion left in some areas of life; a fragile awareness of what negative consequences lies just on the other side of continuing but lack (or ignore) the signal to stop in time.

There are hundreds, if not thousands of debates about the root cause of this disease of more, with as many questions and propositions on why one person seems to have a working fuse to halt harms while another does not. I have spent most of my life searching in Bibles and psychology and experimenting in practices and programs to try to change the disease in me. The discontent. The want. The never enough. The disease of more.

That loop of debates, read, in my head or talked about isn’t very helpful to me anymore. It has become an illusion of solution and yet another manifestation of the disease itself – this trying to understand and corral the cause and change. This plotting by prayer or self-willed idealized fasts of foods, thoughts, or behaviors fades as anything other or more-than chasing and killing an obsession with an old reed when the weight and swing of a new sword is surely needed.

What IS helpful for me today is to understand the broader problem, as played and patterned in many forms, and as simple as the disease of more. And to invite ways and support of willingness into my life that center and re-center me to the present. And to love.

Today I am finding that the Buddhist practice of mindful breathing does both. It busts the illusion of a possession or position in life being condition of peace. It removes the condition and makes room for God to meet me in perfection of the present. It is a doorway to my self and my God, where in the simple act of mindful breathing, I return to what God placed in me in the beginning as truth.

The present is perfect and perfect is Love.

“Our breathing is a physical formation. It is the door through which we go home to our self and reconcile ourselves with our self. The object of our mindfulness is our in-breath and out-breath, nothing else. We identify our in-breath as our in-breath and our out-breath as our out-breath. It is easy.”–The Path of Emancipation, Thich Nhat Hanh

“We have to trust the power of understanding, healing, and loving within us. It is our refuge. It is the Buddha. It is the Kingdom of God existing within us. If we lose our faith and confidence in it, we lose everything.”–The Path of Emancipation, Thich Nhat Hanh

Being loved, timelessly.

Lower Antelope Canyon, AZ

Our trip west, through our nation’s national parks in Utah and Arizona’s landscapes, continues to exceed my expectations! Those pesky expectations are being left, quite literally, in the dust.

On our hikes, or traveling on black ribbons of asphalt through other-world-like spaces, I’m noticing, and thinking of Mom and Dad alot. Missing them in a sweet way.

They liked traveling in our states. They would have loved to hear about our adventures. I miss not sharing this with them, and I miss their interests in us.

I am grateful this morning for this tender awareness. It gets lost, or misplaced; drowned out in the hub-bub of city and chores. I like to think that they and Trudy are watching and smiling from their place of sublime wonder and love. Lofty ideals grounded in this almost-hurt in my chest for being their daughter and sister still here.

I drift.

There are not many things we know for sure about how life and death and before or after life and death works, but this is one thing I do know.

My family loved and loves me, and wanted and wants goodness for me. Not everyone is left with such a gift when left here.  I have come to know this by listening.  That this knowing of being loved by a parent or sibling, even when there is strife and struggles, is not a given; not always the case.

But here in these wide open spaces I am found knowing my reality of being loved, timelessly.  It creeps up out of the rocks with its tender yet powerful truth. Almost overwhelms me with its reminder.

Love is eternal.

Older than these millions-of-years-old formations, deeper than the canyons that I get to see and hike, love endures.  Lasts.

I am still loved, and, so are you.