My eyes grow dim…

Spiritual people, whichever tradition they follow, tend to be quite emotional types. I’ve always felt a certain kinship with some of early Christian writers. The authors of the Psalms, for example, whoever they may be. Here’s the beginning of Psalm 69, which seems to me to describe remarkably accurately, how it feels to flail around on a spiritual path.

Ofcourse, I’m not waiting for God. As a follower of the Buddhadharma I don’t believe that the will of an independent, external deity rules my life. But substitute ‘enlightenment’ for ‘God’, or even ‘realization’, and the verse becomes surprisingly relevant. For me, at least.

Save me, O God!
For the waters have come up to my neck.
I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me.
I am weary with my crying out; my throat is parched.
My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God.

A memory of this verse popped into my mind as I was making my breakfast this morning. Banana porridge. And as a result, I burnt it. Perhaps I should convert to Christianity. A quarter of a century of Buddhist practice doesn’t seem to have brought me one ounce of mindfulness.

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