Author Archives: jillsalahub

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About jillsalahub

Writer & Contemplative Practice Guide holding space for people cultivating a foundation of a stable mind, embodied compassion and wisdom. CYT 500

Day of Rest

I am struggling with my need for space. There are two distinct kinds that I am hungry for–actual physical space, clean and uncluttered, and space in my schedule, room in my way of doing things and being in the world. I feel like I did the best I could to clear out all of the things that no longer serve me, to do as Rumi suggests and “ignore those that make you feel fearful and sad, that degrade you back towards disease and death.” One thing that helped me to do so was Derek Sivers and his suggestion of how to decide how to spend your time, how to decide when to say yes and when to say no.

And yet there’s still too much stuff, too much going on, too much smashing myself to bits, not enough rest or play or joy, not enough white space.

White space: Deliberate negative space, empty and yet surrounded and shaped so that it acquires a sense of volume or form, enclosed empty space which makes an essential contribution to the composition, the portion and place left unmarked, empty and unused and unoccupied, intentionally left vacant, the space between or around subjects, the blank space in the margins and at the edges, the unscheduled and unclaimed places on your calendar, separation, void, the area left open, the gap.

I long to clear space, to watch the magic unfold. And yet, I have old, sticky habits that are hard to break. And as hard as I’m working to keep my heart open, sometimes I still chose instead to be numb, to find comfort in disconnection and distraction. I fill my day up with doing, and at the end I feel tired and terrible about not having done what I should, not having done enough.

In her latest post, Happy Birthday to Me, Sunni Chapman suggests, “It’s the looking that hides the finding.” Maybe the trying and the doing aren’t the way to get anywhere after all, maybe there’s no need to change or become. Maybe it’s time to trust the wisdom of surrender, of letting go, of rest, of enough. As Sunni says,

No one has ever been lost, or incomplete. There is only this one seamless, gorgeous, chaotic, mad-wonderful, vivid as all-hell ALIVENESS, appearing as everything, everywhere, at all times. An infinitely full and incomprehensible mystery, that’s constantly shrouded in a super-chatty mind.

And jokester that life is… it’s not til’ the search is dropped,
that IT is finally found. Staring you in the face the whole time,

totally absurd and totally wonderful.

Book Writing Saturday

This past week I felt whelmed, a curious mixture of overwhelmed by everything there is to accomplish but underwhelmed with excitement about actually doing it. I had very little energy or motivation. I felt tired, confused, scattered and sad. Dexter was the tiniest bit worse. My hair is falling out again, as it does when I let stress creep in. The weather has turned cold and sloppy. It doesn’t help that I am coming down with a case of the crud.

And yet, that’s not the whole story. There were a hundred other moments that were amazing, beautiful, and full of kindness, (one being Mary Anne Radmacher calling me “fiercely gentle Jill”). So many that all the stuff that wasn’t so great didn’t even end up mattering, (well, except for that part about Dexter).

Tulku Thondup describes mindfulness as “the giving of oneself to the moment.” And as so many other wise beings have said, if you are in the moment, there is no problem, everything is workable. Geneen Roth said,

A gentle question to ask yourself: am I alright now, in this very second? And if you are, say that. “In this moment, I am alright. I am fine.” It allows you to cut through the stories and the anxiety and fear. Stop everything and take in the alrightness of just this moment. There will always be problems, so many problems, but if you stay grounded in your own presence, in your own alrightness, you can deal with them from a clear space.

This morning, Dexter and I took a long walk together while Eric and Sam where hiking at Lory State Park. Dexter’s left eye has been runny this past week, and I sometimes wonder which way his tumor is growing. Will his face start to swell, or is it pushing towards his brain? What are those last days, that final moment going to look like? But usually, I don’t waste my time with such speculation. I walk with him, play with him, pet him, love him, and even as we are good-bying, I surrender to the space of us still together.