Another long day at Zen Hospice, training to be a volunteer, and dealing with grief and death. Tonight, taking a restorative walk on Stanford campus, I could feel the vast expanse of my heart, still raw and achy from all the grief, my own and the other people in the group. And for the first time, I became fully aware of the telltale signs, the exact sensations that signify grief for my body. The burn in the heart and stomach, the heaviness in the chest, the almost bitter taste in the mouth . . . And I realized how mistaken I had been before, whenever I had felt those same sensations, out of context, and had rushed to see them as the expression of other emotions such as anger or self-hate. Thinking mind likes to pack away experiences neatly into known categories, even at the risk of being mistaken.
I am still finding my way around the heart . . .