For me, the battle against anxiety and depression, tension and resistance had ruled my life for years.
But then I realized I was thinking of it the wrong way. Why is it a battle? Why was I focusing on that battle? What if I focused on everything around that battle? What if I quieted that struggle by heightening the peace that inevitably came between each dissonant sound?
And it works. It works. But, here's what happens: usually, we have moments of absolute clarity and feel as though we’ve conquered our demons, but then, right around days 3-5 (ish), they come roaring back, fiercer than ever.
This is tension. This is resistance. This is what happens when we resist the moment we’re in. We get anxious. We feel as though there’s a rift between where we are and where we want to be.
One of the first tools at our disposal is relaxation. I know—it’s hard; it takes time to learn to relax.
The key—NOT JUDGING yourself for how you feel. As soon as the tension creeps in, move...
That's the question, right? When to be still? When to settle? When to keep going?
Well, I think it's just not in my nature to settle down. In a place? Yes. In a house? Yes. I like routine, I like stability. But when it comes to the work I do in this world? It's always changing--out of necessity, out of creativity, out of inspiration.
One day I just decided, well, I guess that's okay.
Most of the time, I feel pretty broken, disjointed, held together with chewing-gum and old Christmas ribbons. But I wonder if that's just the way of it? Our world now is much the same--glossed over with this very visible plastic-y sealant via social media.
(But don't let yourself be fooled into thinking that kind of glossiness only exists in our time--think back to the 1950's ideal-housewife-family scenario...that was Facebook live).
But! To the point. So, are these cracks worth plastering over? Shouldn't we just highlight them? Show them off to the world?
Or just crumble, erode away and wait for the weather to shift and for a new structure to emerge?
It's a constant question, right? "Am I doing the right thing? Is my energy going to the right place?"
Well. I have no idea. All I know is what I like to do when I don't *have* to do anything. So. That's where the energy goes. That's the light--literal, figurative, what-have-you.
When I don't know the answer, I get outside. Outside of myself, outside of my house, into light, into darkness, whatever the organic state of the world happens to be. That's where the downloads, the information, the inspiration comes from.
It can, so often, feel as though you're doing nothing but blunding through your days. I write these pieces for the simple reason that I struggle with this kind of hoplessness, this kind of loss (and lost-ness). So, I give myself the advice I want to hear. But it's advice I *know* to be true. I feel it being taught. It's just time to learn. To assimilate. To trust.