HUSH

I hate this bad energy inside me.
the one that makes me call my family and enlist the litany of complaints about all sorts of things.
about louts, idiots and people whose thoughtlessness proves harmful.

I hate the blockade which won't let me release the joy at summertime, yoga and my parents' return.
I hate the impulse that makes me cry when in the evening I'm alone with my thoughts.
I hate the senseless fears and neurotic reflexes that tear my thoughts and make me desire, regret and refuse to accept the reality the way it is.
I hate the inhibition which won't let me go emotionally and intuitively to the side where at the intellectual level I already know I want to be: the side of inner peace, joy and minimalistic satisfaction with those few things which, if watched carefully, should be appreciated and recognized as good enough.

in yoga, it is advised not to get frustrated when body cannot do what the mind has already figured out.
one should keep imagining themselves already able to do so; be patient and let the body take its time.
treat the body with love.

Thích Nhất Hạnh says one should regard one's anger as if it was a child that needs consolation.

so I try.

but the fact that tomorrow I'll find myself at the surgery room and in the next three weeks I can forget about yoga, just drives me crazy.

so does the awareness that from among nearly thirty companies to which I sent my CV, the only one that called me back is precisely the only one for which I do not want to work – but I'll have to if they want me (MONEY).

and seeing her every few days, yet being utterly unable to do anything.
when imagining that things are different doesn't change a thing.