I am the Sky

I recently reread the book, When Things Fall Apart, by Pema Chodron.  A family member had become utterly impossible for me to understand.  The ins and outs of being addicted to catfishing were just beyond my wide and generous patience point.  But the book wasn't helpful.  In fact, I hated it.  For me Chodron's just too negative going on and on about the continuous and unavoidable suffering that's the very grounding of human nature. Buddhists such as her center their lives and philosophies around suffering. And what does she know about my mentally ill mother, lame dog and financial woes.  She's tucked away safe in loose maroon robes with a nearly-shaved head, cloistered in an Abbey in the wilds of Nova Scotia.  I just can't relate. Chodron, aka Diedra Bloomfield-Brown, goes on to describe in the later chapters how I could live as a monk and embrace my suffering to be set free, like her.  Not a fan.  Besides, I love my hair.  Will not be buzz cutting those Lucy-from-Snoopy curly locks any time soon.  Although I hear those baggy maroon robes calling my name.  However, I am drawn to her metaphor about the sky in reference to turbulent, confusing times.  "You are the sky.  Everything else is just the weather."  I thought about this the other day when I became aware of convoluted family dynamics from far and near that were not what they seemed.  "Don't put me in the middle."  "Well, you called me."  That mind-twisting stuff makes my head explode.  Chodron's words drift  through my mind on this morning after a night with little sleep.  Stay centered and calm while the wild wind blows and the rain pounds on my soul.  The steady sky, I remind myself, that's me.