I can feel the anger and resentment bubbling up and interrupting me. Like a constant wind blowing in my face I feel like I am pushing back against an unmovable force. I can't hit the right keys on the keyboard, the fire won't light, the dog doesn't come when I call and one day seems to reel after the other in an never ending series of meaninglessness.
What is the point? I wonder. I can try to be the best I can be and it never lulls the wind. The world still seems full of drivers trying to go when it isn't their turn, people taking what doesn't belong to them and immeasurable suffering with far more immediacy than my pitiful feelings of loss and grief.
I try to allow this groundlessness. I try to move into the emotion and immediately my mind steps in to analyze whether the moving in is working at relieving my suffering. This only enhances it.
What's left? Practice and hopelessness. There will always be this suffering but just maybe with enough practice I will not fear it's presence. Or perhaps I will, but I will laugh at my willfulness.
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