Burn emotional attachment, and grind it into ink.
Transform your intelligence into the purest of paper.
Make the love of the Lord your pen,
and let your consciousness be the scribe.
—Siri Guru Granth - Ang 16
I don’t know what this means exactly, but it sure sounds good, doesn’t it?
That first line stuck out to me because that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do as of late.
Prime example: Yesterday I came down with some kind of flu that really knocked me on my ass. I mean debilitating migraines and hot-cold, hot-cold flashes all through the night. I could have gotten all woe-is-me, “someone bring me chicken noodle soup,” but instead I embraced the reminder of vulnerability and tried to smile in the face of poor health.
That’s what I’ve really been trying to do lately: Smile in the face of [anger, frustration, illness, or whatever it is]. To become the master of my emotions. To be a third-party observer as initial reactions fly by. To remain in the pursuit of stoicism, through sickness and health, till death do us part.
(Now really though: Could someone bring me some chicken noodle soup?)