There's an old saw in pagan circles about not praying for patience -- because you'll wait a long time to learn that lesson.
Well, I think I must have prayed to learn how to take time for myself, because I've been pretty much immersed in a life that requires me to actually, actively take time for myself -- I'm not getting it by default. And it's not going so well.
One of the necessities of spiritual practice is time alone. It's not a glorification of the hermitage -- after all, as one of my paper teachers wrote, there's nothing like marriage and rubbing up against another personality every day for the rest of your life to show you exactly how your ego is working and thus what you need to work on. But in order to see how your ego is working, in order to observe yourself and how you are, in order to focus attention on the Divine, a little solitude is helpful.
In other times and places, taking time for myself has been a chore, something I needed to do like I need to take vitamins and brush my teeth -- unpleasant, sometimes uncomfortable, and not very appealing when there were options like watching the same old television series on DVD again or repeatedly hitting refresh in Google Reader to see if anyone had updated their blogs. I have thrown myself against the need to take time for myself in determination, in fear, in righteousness, in anger. I have manhandled myself, written lists, talked to myself sternly, made promises.
Somewhere in the last few months, at a point I can't find, something changed. Maybe it was the retreat I went to in June, maybe it was reading the latest Enneagram book, maybe it was just everything finally coalescing, but right now I'm craving time alone to meditate, to read my spiritual books, to journal. Sure, I'm currently resisting morning pages, and sure, candle gazing is requiring serious force of will, but I'm craving solitude the way I crave sunlight in February -- as though I just might curl up and die without it. I'm grouchy when I don't get it, I'm resentful and mean.
And so finally, my desire and my motivation are going the same direction, and finally I'm being able to at least look forward to it. My skills at setting aside time, however, are, frankly, for shit.
The things that get in the way amaze me. There are days when I'm so hung up on housework that I can't take time to meditate until the kitchen is clean. There are days when I come home tired and restless, and somehow that translates into watching television instead of meditating. There are times when I desperately, cravenly want solitude, so I read a book instead of meditating.
Of course, there are complications right now. Ms. P has sprained her ankle, so instead of taking the train in to work, at least part of which was by myself and so a kind of solitude, I'm driving us both to work and spending that time swearing at other drivers. We've had visitors. My thyroid meds seemed off for a little while, and so my energy was everywhere but here. I'm busy processing some things that have come up about my family, and so I'm feeling aversive to journaling.
The combination of deep desire and "everything getting in the way" is leading to a kind of towering frustration, a prickly grouchiness that is really (and for good reason) upsetting my darling wife.
But the truth is that there will always be complications. There will always be housework and television and visitors and friends who want to see us and emotional things to process and the exhaustion that comes from a good and productive day at work. All of those things will always be there, and then some.
Making the shift to truly, honestly prioritizing spiritual work ahead of everything except perhaps my marriage and my work, well, that's proving very difficult, deep desire and the best of intentions aside. My habits run deep and strong. Spiritual work is scary and threatening, even as I want nothing but. This culture is not set up to privilege the life of the spirit, and I want things to talk to my colleagues about.
I am struggling to be gentle with myself. As our spiritual director said to Ms. P, if I could do something differently right now, I would be. So I'm continuing to stretch into solitude, to push myself to the place where it hurts, gently, so I don't injure my stiff muscles.
But man am I tired of this struggle. I want it to be easy. I want to float into solitude as though it is my birthright, and I want to float out again serene and able to deal with the world without being ruffled in the least. I want the schedules of my life to mesh and never conflict, and I want spirituality to be everywhere, everywhen. I want infinite time, and I want to need less sleep. I want spiritual community so I feel less like Ms. P and I are alone in this struggle.
Do you think the Dalai Lama ever has tantrums like this?