I live a mile from work, and normally walk to and from there. This hill is my biggest hurdle en route home. I have made up a litany of prayers that I pray as I journey home. I normally pray a self composed prayer, which is like a mantra for my walking meditation. When I get to the foot of this last hill to my home, whatever I am thinking normally stops and my concentration focusses solely on my prayer.
Bipolarness affects morals as easily as emotions. I’ve gone to every extreme in every form of sin. I’ve been lustful toward all forms of females. I’ve gotten angry with anyone, who disagrees with me. I’ve gotten to lazy to attend Sunday church, and greedy enough to steal from employers. I maintained a drunk for months long, while constantly putting myself down because I didn’t do as well as my brothers. I saw the world, as if I was the only one who mattered.
I imagined an air tight way to do it. Thankfully, I found a person to listen to me. This person was God and talked in a prayer, which was answered in a second.
I could list my angelic virtues. However due to my depression, I only focused on my negatives. When depressed over your failings, remember not anyone is all bad. You have some positive traits also.
Two nights in a row I remembered something from my past that hailed down a load of misery and pain on my mind. Now nothing had actually happened. I was home alone. No one, friend, family, foe, or robotic device called to annoy me. All of my electronics worked wonderfully. Best of all, my kitten Francis did not even scratch me.
However, I was sitting like a somber bittersweet statute staring straightforward.
My mind imagined grim scenes from my past. I forsaw what I should have said, envisioned how I would have stated it, and what responses I would have followed.
A day later, I read the Buddhas’ quote, “Nothing can harm you as much as your own thoughts ungaurded.” I was so happy because I had something to tell myself when I remember some past dismal time.
I just stared straight up and prayed a big, “Thank you,” to Jesus, the Lord, the Holy Spirit, and the Buddha for the advice. Showing gratitude is also a step toward humility and happiness. Besides, I would rather err on the side of love.
Thanking whoever helps you, regardless of who they are stems from the Good Samaritan story also. Treating everyone in a humane manner, regardless of race, religion, income, or whatever, is a very easy first step to love, especially with a smile on your face.
Then day three came and as expected my mind drifted that horrible direction. I started to have a devilishly induced recollection, but gratefully I remembered the Buddha’s wise words. I stopped my brain and stared at myself in the mirror.
Oddly enough, I found a quote from Marcus Aurelius, a Roman leader, which correlates with the Buddha’s one.
With my bipolar issues, I’ve had any degree of day. I can go from being deliriously delighted, full of energy to morbidly melancholy, sleeping 16 hours out of a day.
Then, my epilepsy knocks me unconscious. I’ll have a dream-like fantastical feeling float into my head, and the next thing I know I’m in an ambulance. Paramedics ask many questions, while I try to figure out what happened.
In all three of those instances, I tell myself to pray, and in the end, I always survive.