Losing My Zen

My Zen is missing.

This happens all of the time. I have a hard time keeping track of my Zen -- I tend to think it's like a bad boyfriend. It shows up when it feels like it, moves in, makes itself cozy, and I think: "So this is how things can be. This is really lovely. I feel so ... mellow" and just when I get used to the fact that Zen likes to snuggle in a way that doesn't make one of my arms fall asleep and is really good about taking out the trash and is fun to have around, it's gone. No warning. Not even an "It's not you, it's me."

It'll be back, of course. Just not right now.

A wise friend tells me that, unlike a bad boyfriend (and she gives me the disapproving look when she says that, because she knows me well) it is HEALTHY to have the Zen about, and aren't I the one who shows it the door anyway because sometimes, Zen wants to let go of things that I want to hold on to? Doesn't Zen suggest -- gently -- that some of the things that I demand are in fact the things I should banish?

But, I protest, that is my nature.

And that, she says with just a tiny hint of triumph, is what you must overcome in order to get Zen to stay.
And also, she adds, sighing, try dating someone NICE.

I think that she might be right. I think I kicked Zen out of my office several weeks ago and then deadbolted the door. I have not been answering its calls. I don't come out when it knocks.

It's a bit disheartening to realize that the person who is making my life MORE stressful and complicated is ... me. All the worry, all of the anxiety, all of the stress -- they're not impacting anyone else. Just me. They don't change anything, they just make me unhappy, tired, and brittle.

I'm going to try inviting my Zen back in.

As for the rest of my friend's advice ... well, we'll see.