Jetlag is getting best of me, dulling mind and tiring body. There is not much to do but be with diminished capacities, and appreciating what I know to be transient nature of discomfort. I tend to take the mind's ability to think clearly, so much for granted. Today, as I lay in hotel bed, wanting to sleep, but unable to, trying to read some more of Ayya Khema, and having to give up, setting out to meditate, only to find uncooperating mind, I realize what is most dear to me. Mind.
And I think of my mother, whose mind has been playing tricks on her, for five years now. And I can only surmise what it must be like to have one's mind not to be counted on, any longer. Jetlag is providing me with gift of deepened empathy for her invisible pain. I realize the importance of not setting her up for failure when I talk with her. Not asking questions she does not have answers for. Instead asking the simple ones that make her feel in control still. Or complimenting her on what makes her proud, like her good physical health, and her youthful looks.
I dedicate this post to the millions of people in the world who, like my mother, are suffering from diseases of the mind. May they find peace, and relative happiness in the midst of their suffering.