Three Truths and One Wish

No turning back now

1. Truth: This bathroom remodel is both easier and harder than I thought it would be. I expected it to be a pain to not have anywhere to shower in my own house for an entire month, but I didn’t expect having people here every day smashing and banging and stomping around in their boots and slamming the front door and talking to themselves to be so stressful. Part of it is that our house is so small, there’s not really anywhere you can go to get away from it. I moved the dogs’ crates to the garage because that’s about as far away as you can get, but people have still been needing to get into the crawl space and the attic so they aren’t completely away from it. I’m working from home some of the time to be here for the dogs, to be sure they are okay, to answer questions about where to put outlets and such, and my office is right on the other side of the bathroom so it’s hard to get as much done. My CSU office seems more and more like an oasis, peaceful and calm and quiet.

2. Truth: I am hungry. There’s a health fair at CSU today where I can get a free flu shot and some bloodwork. When I signed up, I thought to myself “oh, I don’t drink coffee anymore so the fasting part won’t be a big deal and I won’t need to go in so early.” So I scheduled for 11 am. It was only later that I remembered fasting also meant no food. Here’s the kicker — because I get up at 5 am, typically by 11 am I’ve already eaten TWO meals. This is harder than I thought it would be.

3. Truth: I’m trying to be gentle with myself. As soon as I get my blood drawn, I’ll go get something to eat. Knowing that I won’t get as much done while this is going on, I can give myself a break, let myself off the hook. It’s okay that I don’t do so much right now, especially considering how much I normally do. Sure I have to go to the gym to shower every day, but while I’m there I can do some exercise knowing I don’t have to do so much because I’m going e v e r y day. I can take it easy, do what feels good, and then enjoy a hot shower. Who knows, maybe I could get used to this doing less and find a gentler pace at which to live my whole life, not just this month.

One wish: That whatever upset and disruption is occurring in our lives, we can relax with it and be gentle, giving ourselves the space and care we need.

1. “I love you, but I’m letting you go.” Not you, kind and gentle reader. Not this blog either. It’s something that Elizabeth Gilbert posted on Facebook this morning, something I was just talking about with a new friend yesterday afternoon. I need space in my life, need to ease up, but it’s complicated because the things I would need to start saying no to are things I love, things that are brilliant and wonderful, things I want to experience and do, but if I’m being honest, things I can’t fit into the finite, limited amount of time I’m alloted. I can’t do ALL THE THINGS. Elizabeth ends her post by saying, “I don’t know what the thing is (or things are) that you need to start saying no to, in order to live the life you keep saying you want. But I have a suspicion that perhaps YOU know. Is it maybe time?” *sigh*

2. I struggle with three types of laziness, sometimes all three at once. These are the kinds of laziness referred to in my Buddhist practice tradition. Adreanna Limbach gives the best description I ever heard of them. She says the three types are: having a lack of vision, speedy business, and disheartenment. We forget our intention, why we’ve said “yes” to something in the first place, lose our sense of purpose, and this can make us feel stuck, apathetic. Or, in a culture which sees productivity as a virtue, we fill up our time doing things that aren’t in line with our vision, our intention, our mission, and we treat busyness as a badge of honor. And finally, we might feel unworthy or disappointed in our efforts and lose patience, maybe even give up.

3. Luckily, there are antidotes to my behavior, this laziness. I can reconnect with my intention. I can sit with myself, sink into my own innate wisdom and consider what I might need to let go of, what I really want. I can prioritize what really matters, give it my attention and time, and say no to everything else — “I love you, but I’m letting you go.” I can show up and practice with joyful effort, become a “deeply disciplined half-ass,” having faith that the seeds I plant will come to fruition. And when I feel tired, I’ll rest. And when I feel like giving up, I won’t.

One wish: To reconnect with my intention and have clarity about the letting go, making space for what really matters.