We had our final mediation meeting today. I agreed to his terms. My head was swimming. I felt listless and overwhelmed. I did not check out. I just never checked in, fully. I was taken by how a marriage could dissolve into a stack of papers called a Stipulation Judgment filled with numbers, roman numerals, and legalese. This paperwork is what our 4.5 years together had turned into, and I was shocked. It’s all down to money. Money. Money. Money.
I felt sick afterwards.
Last night in meditation I sent loving kindness to my Ex. I honestly and authentically wished him all the love in the world. I imagined him in love with someone else, beaming with delight as he introduced her to me. I pictured him happy and well.
Then I sent my thoughts to the terrorists. I was filled with immeasurable pain. To hate that much that killing innocent people seems the only answer must be a painful way to live. I have no answers. This situation is too fucked up for words, and the feelings it brings up in me are almost too great to bear. For the victims and the perpetrators. I feel powerless. I can’t do anything about this fucked up world except send love and light to the darkest places in it.
The difference between suffering and pain. Suffering is the refusal to accept what is. Pain is when you accept it. And you let it wash over you. I am in pain. But I am not suffering.
My life is not hard.
Living in Syria is hard.
Being homeless is hard.
Hating so much you want to kill, is hard.
My life is easy.
I think I want to move to Portland.