Today is a day of rest, but I don’t feel rested. I feel depleted, disappointed, stinky, a little overwhelmed, lost, a bit lonely, and completely in love with the whole brilliant mess. I still have goals: get clean sheets on the bed, do a little laundry, meditate, take a shower, eat some food and drink some water, maybe finally put up my new desk, maybe do my homework for yoga teacher training, and most certainly make sure two dogs (and one boy) are fed, rested, cared for, and loved.
I’m sad. With my guest post for Be More With Less, I got a surge of new traffic and some followers. I felt like what brought them here was exactly right, that I write about exactly the kind of stuff they’d be interested in — when I’m writing. But right now I’m in a fallow time, when I’m so busy with other things that all I’ve been posting about is the new puppy, how hard it’s been, how cute he is in spite of that, how right it was that this particular boy is with us at this moment. Those new kind and gentle readers must have been so confused, like being invited to a lecture on mindfulness and showing up to find a kid’s birthday party instead, being led to the chaos and noise of a bouncy house when what you wanted was the peace and stillness of a meditation cushion. It feels like this huge missed opportunity, the most unfortunate of timing, even as it is exactly as it should be.
I am trying not to give in to external pressure, but rather trust my own inherent wisdom. There will be no “perfect puppy in 7 days,” (if ever), I won’t be as prepared as I’d like when I practice teach forward bends next weekend, (hopefully I’ll have my homework done), my CSU office is a wreck, (but I’m still doing good work), I feel heavy and most of the time my clothes don’t match and I’m lucky if they are clean, I’m not offering meaningful deep content on my blog or making any progress on my larger to-do list. I can barely remember what day it is and I’m not getting enough rest.
I forgive myself. I drink tall glasses of cold water. Sometimes when the puppy naps, I nap instead of doing whatever chore has been put off. I take a hot shower, floss my teeth, use the good lotion on my hands. I give myself permission to get rid of those jeans I don’t really like, that aren’t even comfortable. I remind myself that even if I do nothing, I’m good enough, worthy of love, deserving of ease. I assure myself that I can’t screw it up with Ringo, that no matter what I do or don’t do, things will turn out alright. I sit gently and compassionately with the underlying nagging fear that if I stay quiet, still for too long there will be no one left to listen or serve, that I’ll be left talking to myself, alone, no one to help me when I need it.
I do what Susan Piver always suggests and take a seat right in the middle of my life, just as it is, just as I am. When my mind wanders off, when I panic or worry, when I find myself lost, confused, generating my own suffering, I “let go, come back, take a fresh start,” the promise being that the number of fresh starts available to all of us is infinite. Take a deep breath and start again.