My sangha has an annual day of reflection, and today was the day. We were asked to prepare a reflection to share with the group on this topic:

"We normally live our lives through the force of habits, without reflecting much on why we act the way we do. Nor do we think much about the consequences of our own actions on others. At some point of our life, however, something happens. That experience, whether pleasant or painful, changes our habitual way of looking at things. All of a sudden, we are able to see a larger truth."

I knew what I wanted to talk about as soon as I read the prompt. I struggled to put it into words. It touches on some of the bigger issues of my recent life, and words are hard. When my turn to speak today actually came, I ended up crying a little bit and forgetting half of my words anyway. I told myself that I could give it another try later, say, on my blog.

Here we go.

I think that we sometimes use habits to save ourselves from the things we don't want to face. You hear so often about people who have experienced a death, a breakup, a tragedy-- you hear about them diving into their work, their habits. You hear about them living for their work.

I did that.

About a year ago, I parted ways with my ex-fiance. My life plans went down the tubes. I moved, I found a new job, I was building a new life for myself. I couldn't think about what I had lost. I simply couldn't face it. I didn't do it on purpose, but I developed a narrow focus: one project at a time, one assignment at a time, one day of work at a time. I devoted myself to my work, which is easy to do as an elementary school teacher. When I wasn't at work, I seized on other things to obsess about: fitness, websites, painting my room.

At our meditation group, we sometimes talk about how one can only do what one can do. In helping others, in activism, in being "good people," we can only do what we can do. Knowing and accepting your own abilities and limitations is a powerful thing.

I think I needed to stick my head in the sand for a few months, honestly. I don't think I could look around and think about my dreams and my big ideas, because they were so tied up in the things I had lost, and it hurt too much to tackle them.

But people are resilient. I am resilient. When I was ready for it, I looked up.

I looked up when I traveled to Washington State over spring break. I saw wonderful people pursuing their dreams, and they were dreams that I shared. I had forgotten how much I cared about community, about gardening, about raising children together. I saw these people doing things I had been passionate about, and my passion rekindled. It didn't hurt to think about those big dreams anymore; I had given myself time to heal.

If you had asked me before spring break whether I valued community, gardening, etc. I would have said, "Yes!" But living those values had slipped away. I had lost sight of them. I had been too busy looking down, focusing on the things right in front of me.

That's what I had needed to do.

We can only do what we can do. Sometimes we have to allow ourselves the space and time we need to heal before we can do the things we ultimately want to do. Sometimes we need to forget what we wanted to do so that we can dream new dreams. And sometimes, when we finally look up, we realize that our new dreams and our old dreams, at their roots, are the same.