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Lockdown Journal

Day 323

28/10/2021

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​17 February 2021 Day 323 in the time of coronavirus and this time level 3 doesn’t seem as hard as the same level last August, when the skies were leaden and temperatures cold. At the supermarket today I noted the lighter atmosphere, people were wearing masks, some of them quite beautiful.  Shoppers were moving peacefully round the aisles. There was a sense of ‘we know the drill now.’ As I packed my groceries for myself  I reflected on how far we have come since our first lockdown last March - April when people were shell-shocked and extremely anxious. But I don't want to get ahead of myself. We don't yet know whether this community transmission of the UK strain has been contained yet.
 
I spent more money than usual today. I bought stone fruit, some to eat raw and six white flesh peaches to simmer in squeezed tangelo juice with a cinnamon pod. I lavished money on ingredients for a batch of unbaked muesli— not just almonds but walnuts and pecans, along with pumpkin and sunflower seeds and some jumbo size raisins and coconut strips.
 
I am not long home from retreat, a time of stepping out of everyday life and sinking into seclusion and silence in a Franciscan Priory on the edge of Monte Cecilia Park in Auckland. This year I had resisted the call until the very last minute. I couldn’t see how to take five days off at the precise moment when the work schedule revs up. And yet as the Buddhist scholar teacher said, ‘now, in the midst of busyness, is the very best time to go on retreat.’
 
Always I find getting there stressful and this year was no different. As I drove over the silver bridge, I realised I’d not switched off the appliances, at the wall. It had never occurred to me to pay attention to this until a Maori scriptwriter told me once, in conversation before her interview, about a fire that began in a switch left on at the wall. The consequence of a fire at the tower alarmed me. It wouldn’t just be my home going up in smoke, there are 59 other apartments to consider. Only last Saturday I had experienced my first fire alarm and observed residents trooping out and assembling in the forecourt. I’d watched the fire truck arrive and thought about the cost of a callout for a false alarm, $800.
 
These thought tracks, which have their very own personal flavour and tone are the object of study on retreat. In the time of the Buddha’s life they were referred to as ‘the chittering of the monkey mind.’ The focus of meditation is on coming into full embodiment in the present through attending to the breath and the sense of the body, weighted on the cushion, moment by moment. When thoughts arise, as they will inevitably for it is the nature of the mind to wander and to think, meditators are encouraged to notice and attend to them kindly and mindfully. In the car I sat with the discomfort and decided not to bother my neighbour, who has my key, but to sit with the feeling and allow it to be. The odds were, that all would be well, and the iconic tower would still be standing on my return.
 
On this retreat I encountered all the wanderings of my unsteady mind and was often relieved to hear the teacher striking the Tibetan brass bowl to bring the session to a close. But slowly I was acquiring a level of discipline, learning to catch the thoughts and study them. There were flashes of insight and a deepening sense of equanimity helping me still the mind.  Occasionaly I experienced what it feels like when the mind is quiet.
 
The photo featured here was taken on retreat. The goldfish pond was situated at the rear of the brick building. Leaf fall and twigs had caught in the wire mesh put there to protect the fish. Its wooden supports were old and encrusted with lichen in places. Each day I was drawn here to study the view of the pond, the effect of light and shadow on water, of orange fish and lilies in flower, glimpsed through the mesh. The wire grid seemed to illustrate what I was discovering on retreat about the quality of my own mind with all its deceptions and contortions and something of the struggle to find tranquillity in order to reach the state of nirvana, when peace and beauty and wisdom align.

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Copyright © 2017 Deborah Shepard
  • Home
  • Books
    • The Writing Life >
      • Reviews & Interviews
    • Giving Yourself to Life
    • Her Life's Work
    • Translucence
    • Between The Lives
    • Reframing Women
    • Tributes
    • Personal Writings >
      • Lockdown Journal
      • Travel Journal
      • Elegy for a friend
      • Christchurch - Post Quakes
      • On a residency
      • Deborah’s Love Letter to the Women’s Bookshop
      • Deborah's Q & A With Unity Books
  • Writing Memoir
    • Defining Memoir
    • The Participatory Model
    • Tips on Writing and Posting a Story
    • The Value of a Writing Class
    • From writing course to book publication
    • Your Writing Space
    • Writing on a Theme >
      • Window
      • Surviving a Crisis
    • Reviews of Memoir
  • Writers' stories
    • Covid-19 Stories
    • Writing Guidelines
  • Events
  • About
    • Testimonials
    • Media
  • What People Say
  • Contact