I did?  Me?  This nice little Buddhist guy who bows and smiles a lot?

Yes

For a few weeks now, my neighbour has often played his music too loudly, far beyond what I think the word “appropriate” means.

One time when I asked him to turn it down, he yelled at me.  I didn’t yell back.  That would have been bad, showing that I was a bad human being.

The next time my walls were rattling with downstairs music, I phoned the police.  I didn’t want to be yelled at again.  They told him to lower the volume.  He did, and then yelled at me in an e-mail.

It was 9:00 am this morning.  Music from within.  I knocked on his door.  No answer, but the volume went up.  I walked down to the street and looked up at his open window.  He was standing there.

Me: Turn down the volume!

Him: This is not America!

Me (yelling): Turn down the volume or I’ll phone the police!

***

Even though my memory is an inexact science, I don’t think I’ve ever yelled at anyone before in my entire long life.

Now it’s an hour later, and I’m tapping away in Izy Coffee.  The knots in my stomach about music at 4:00 am are gone at 10:00.

What is this?

Where am I?

What does it mean to be me?

My view of being a spiritual person has been stood on end.  Made broader.  Embracing more of the tapestry of life.

The issue with my neighbour is still there.  But my experience of it has been shaken.  Energy is flowing, not crammed into a box.  I am bigger.

And on we go