[blockquote source=”Pema Chödrön”]”We find we’re very threatened most by nothing happening.” [/blockquote]

I once attended a lecture on the topic of distractions.

Ironically, I had found my way there fidgeting my way out of a mindfulness lecture three doors down.

sigh…I wasn’t always the most attentive of students. It seemed my capacity to learn was continuously challenged by my ability to stay. But, for some reason this particular lecture peaked my interest.

On a placard just outside the door, was written a single word – ‘dunzie.’

“Ooh, Italian…” I thought, as I forced my way through. Isn’t it strange how easily our attention is captured?

By the title, I assumed this to be a discussion on ‘closure’ – a play on the word ‘done-zo.’ Oh, how quickly I would come to realize otherwise. Dunzie, you see, is the Tibetan word for ‘distraction’ ~ and this lecture, was intended to show our addictions to them.

As my eyes adjusted to the dimmed conference lighting, I could finally begin to make sense of my surroundings – a sea of smiling faces, resting upon their pillows.

“Oh, crap – they’re meditating,” I thought to myself. Immediately, I turned to run – but the door behind me, had already locked into place.

As silly as this may sound, the idea of being alone with my thoughts was quite literally terrifying. I had a love/hate relationship with my ‘inner dialogue’ – which, at times, was uplifting and friendly; while, at other times, it was my most brutal enemy.

“Hey, what’s the rush? Someplace better you’d rather be?” My eyes focused to a large man, lumbering towards the door.

“Oh, I must be in the wrong place…” I stammered, still looking for my great escape.

“Well, clearly you are,” he chuckled. And, with a knowing, slightly intimidating sort of wink – he handed me a pillow, “Go on now, why not stay a while.”

That was nearly 6 years ago, and probably the first time I wasn’t permitted an easy way out with my feelings.

I had just experienced the loss of one of my dearest friends, an unexpected tragedy determined to dredge through the very depths of my spirit.

And, I wasn’t ready for that.

Death is often the darkest of our shadows, carrying with it feelings of uncertainty, fear and anger. Likewise, and by the very nature of its abruptness, it forces us to come face to face with the harshness of our new reality.

Something I had been avoiding since the moment I first learned of my dear friend’s passing.

Facing the honesty of our emotions – without the benefit of veils and filters – can be an absolutely overwhelming experience.

Pema Chödrön once likened it to being stuck on a Greyhound bus for three days with someone you didn’t like. With each stop, we are gleeful that we might finally be free of them…

Though, inevitably they’re always there waiting for us back on that ‘bus.’

In many ways, our emotions can force this same sense of dread. I often laugh thinking of Ani Pema’s face pressed firmly to bus window, desperately scanning for her first opportunity to flee.

Oh, how many times I’ve been there myself.

You see, the moment something becomes unpleasant or uncomfortable, we begin our escape. And, we do so by falling into the habit of our own distractions.

Hey, anything to keep the mind from going deeper still – right?

But, this emotional slight of hand can prove to be a double-edged sword.

Whether we’re relaxing in front of a droning TV screen, or taking our minds off of things with an after work drink ~ the end result is that we’re pulling away from the very thing we must inevitably face –

The absolute truth in the very essence of our being.

Who are you, and what do you really feel?

Pull away those layers, my loves – and honestly ask yourselves –

“Am I living my life, or simply living my distractions?”

In one, you’ll find the soul-filling purpose of discovery – and in the other, you’ll find the twisted roots of regret.