The Root of the Word

Dharma.

The root of my current suffering lies in casual yoga class banter regarding this convoluted word. What is my purpose? I am mixed up like the cake batter I swear I won't eat.

"The root of the word dharma is “dhri”, which means “to support, hold, or bear”. It is the thing that regulates the course of change by not participating in change, but that principle which remains constant."*

Everything is boring. I live my life not on the edge, but on a precipice. I wonder when my life will pick up speed, or if I will ever overcome depression and be able to find my true purpose: live a well-rounded, accomplished life. Whatever that even means.

When I slammed a door and opened a portal to a more difficult, sad world without my sister, I took in her words: but like everything that is said to me, a milky film covers the meaning. She said I play the victim in my own life. She told me, "you just let things happen to you." The next day, I booked a flight home to the east coast. I was not trying to prove her wrong, and I knew that I would never have that initiative again.

The milky film seems to shade in my retinas. I can't see, but not for lack of trying. I will myself to do yoga, so I am one with my body. Maybe if I feel emotion through physical activity, I will feel something - anything - in other aspects of my life.

I go to bed at night and dream about pina coladas. I hate the feeling of being out of control, but it's a comfort I love. Writing is a similar stimulant, and likewise depressant. I just want to be known. But when the attention turns to me, I shy away; I am stuck wondering if my writing submissions are too much, too much drama. But in my everyday life, nothing is dramatic, and I simply exist.

My dharma alludes me.

But in a sense, don't we all dream about alcohol, and wonder at what the next hangover of despair will inspire us to change?

*Wikipedia, Dharma: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dharma