"Why" and "why not" are essentially the same question, are they not? Or, more accurately, two versions of the same question. Which you ask depends on the situation, how you feel about that situation, and how adverse (or in favor) you are to risk. I've been asking myself this question a lot this week, not that there are any answers. And, from what I've seen, many of us have been plagued of late by waves of anxiety, depression, fatigue, and general malaise.
Is it cosmic? Is it a current of energy, powerful but temporary? I hope so. I hope so because it's heavy, this question, whichever version you choose to ask. And such an open-ended question whose answer always begins (often begins) with that most hated of childhood reasons, "because."
Because why? Because why not? And does the answer matter? Well, I like answers, so yes, it does. I like proof, even if it's only proof to me--a feeling, an insight, a sign. But there's only silence. This week at least. Silence and a community o...
I've always enjoyed being alone, but lately I've dreaded it. Lately I've had such a hard time with decisions, with paths, with knowing the right from the wrong (and, hell, while we're at it, the right from the left) that sitting in silence exacerbates the dilemma. I don't know if I'm acting or reacting, and therein lies the problem--I can't remove myself from my own emotional whirlwind long enough to see with any kind of objectivity, any kind of clarity.
I don't know. All I know is that I've never wished more to be my seven-year-old self again, safe in those few years of knowing with certainty that I was loved, that I was in the right place, and that I had infinite potential yet to investigate.
Ever since I was a little kid, I always remember thinking I was missing out, that I was making the wrong decision. Or, more accurately, no matter *what* choice I were to make, the other would have been better/smarter/happier. Maybe it's because I don't know myself as well as I think? Or perhaps it's because I have no faith in my own endurance, ability, or capacity for newness.
And perhaps that distrust of self is at the root of all anxiety, all misery, and every sleepless night.
I'd like to think of occasional depression as akin to a virus--something about which we can do little but bundle up and let it ride. And maybe that's not so far off the mark. Perhaps some of us are simply more susceptible to "viruses of the heart," to put it (questionably, admittedly poorly) poetically. And, perhaps, like "real" viruses, some times of the year are better breeding grounds for them.
Maybe, just maybe, if we could give these dark moments that much legitimacy (i.e. virus-like rather than an intangible manifestation of our psyche) and that much of a compassionate approach to healing (i.e. wrapping up on the couch, hot tea and good book in hand), these moments wouldn't be so fraught, so feared, so dismantling. Maybe.
At the very least, compassion-toward-self and a mug of hot tea certainly couldn't hurt. Here's to warmth, petals, on our darker days.
Man, it is so easy to get lost in the minutiae of misery, isn't it? (I'm not trying to be dramatic; I just really like alliteration--apologies). Misery or, more accurately, discouragement (which is on par with misery, in my book), has so many talons, so many ways to catch you unawares. And, if we're continuing with the bird metaphor (and I don't see why not), don't get me started on the feathers--they get everywhere--in your mouth, your hair, the back of the waistband of your favorite pair of jeans, not to mention your shoes and socks, poking you every time you take a step.
Discouragement...it's a horrible, self-serving predator of a thing that slips in silently, lethally. And if you're not aware of that? You're a goner. Every time.
But we have hope, right? There's always hope. And, if we believe Emily Dickinson (and I can't imagine why we wouldn't), hope too is a thing with feathers.
So, there's something there. Some defense. They've got feathers, we've got feathers...but we've a...
So, sleep is vital--we know that. But how you sleep is probably the most valuable piece of this sleep-as-medicine idea. Sleeping without the use of chemicals (herbs are good--have I talked to you about herbs?), sleeping without the interference of electronics (charging or otherwise), sleeping on an empty stomach (three hours prior to bed = last meal), and getting to bed at an optimal hour for an optimal time period (I know, I know--but try for 10pm and 7+ hours when you can) are all part of this prescription.
Why? Because sleep is when we rebuild, repair, kick-out and process whatever has come into our minds and bodies that day. But set the task of churning dinner? Metabolizing (needless or habitual) medications and chemicals? No rest. No real rest.
I know I usually reserve this space for more philosophical/emotional/mind-bendy issues, but this is a part of that. Poor sleep, little sleep, eats away at our sweet candied web of self-reliance, self-assurance, positive self-image, bravery,...
I'm going to be honest with you guys--I really rarely have no idea what I'm going to write when I sit down with these Satyas every morning. Some mornings I think, this is it. This is the day it will fail to happen. But it never has--not in four-plus years of doing these. Some days I get up and think, good lord. I cannot write another thing; I'm empty and no one wants to hear it anyway. But I always do it. It's like my meditation, my daily prayer, my daily practice.
Continuing in this full-disclosure fun--I'm tired of the hustle. You know? Seriously. I'm so tired of shlepping and shopping my wares, my classes, my education, my time, my money, and pouring it into this thing I call a career, but which certainly doesn't act like one. That's what was on my mind this morning as I dragged myself around my routine, so it ended up in the Satya (that's how these things always get created--whatever is floating around, unsettled, lands on the page to sort itself out).
Discomfort--physical, mental, emotional, or situational is something we all do our best to avoid. Right? Human nature. But some discomforts remain--discomfort with one's body; unease around a certain social situation; frustration in the acquiring of some skill or another. We spend so much energy either avoiding (read: ignoring/distracting) those feelings or berating ourselves for having them in the first place ("I should be a better person...etc").
First of all...that *should* thing? Well, that's a subject for another post; short answer, stop the should-ing. But most importantly--you've got to let those discomforts in. Right?? They're just going to keep knocking. Or, perhaps a better metaphor--the telemarketer is going to keep calling until you take the two minutes to pick up the phone and say, firmly, clearly: REMOVE ME FROM YOUR LIST (please & thank you).
Done and done.
Same thing here. Let that discomfort in. Feel it out. What does it want? Chances are, as soon as you feel it, it g...
I know how hard it is, some days, to get out of bed. I know how hard it is, some days, to find the point, to find the floor, to find the clothing in which to dress this poor animal in for another day.
But think of it this way. We need you. We need your talents, your gifts, your unique battles and victories. This is why you're here. You're a warrior. Maybe you're a peaceful warrior, a brainy warrior, a crafty warrior, a warrior-artist.
Define yourself. Be grand.
Then get up.
Dress for the part.
Be here. Be wild. Become the force you were born to become.