Three Truths and One Wish

The view from my Eddy Hall office at CSU

1. Truth: What is easy for some is hard for me. Today I’m thinking in particular of how hard it is for me to simply relax into my truth, to give myself what I need without guilt or shame or anxiety or apology. Every choice I make, every hunger or longing, goes through an exhausting process of how it will affect others, what impact it will have, what other people will think about it and thus about me, whether or not I’ve “earned” it. It’s become a practice for me to simply want something and allow myself to have it, to feel ease or even joy, to relax with myself. It should be automatic, but I have to try, make so much effort to just be.

2. Truth: The turn towards fall feels so peaceful to me. You know how much I love summer, the garden with its blooms and fruit and vegetables and bugs and birds. The longer, lazy days, and all the light. However, fall is really my season. Dusk is also my favorite time of day and this season — the changing light, the cooler temperatures, green turning to gold and orange and red — feels similar, comfortable and calm. Like a dog sigh or the first sip of a cool glass of water when you are thirsty, permission to relax, a sense of relief and ease.

3. Truth: I feel myself slowing down. There were lots of things on the to-do list I made at the beginning of summer that haven’t been done yet. I still need to buy new bras and paint the house, and the new computer that was delivered weeks ago is still in a box. And yet, I know that I’ve spent a lot of years prioritizing doing and accomplishing over rest and contemplation, and that hasn’t served me. I’m tired. I long for rest. As difficult as it is, I’m going to give in to it.

One wish: May we honor our hunger, our longings, our need for rest, and may we thus find ourselves restored and open to ease and joy.

1. Truth: We went on a short hike this morning. All of us, the whole tiny family. This is a big deal, because Sam hasn’t been able to go since he injured himself almost six months ago. He’s up to walking 3.5 miles a day and his amazing lovely wonderful physical therapy vet told us at our last visit she thought he was ready to try a hike, so this morning we did. We went to Mount Margaret, up by Red Feather Lakes, one of our favorite places. We saw hummingbirds and butterflies, a deer and a marmot, a herd of cattle and lots of chipmunks, and two gorgeous dogs that reminded me of our Obi. It was already warm because it’s going to be close to 100 degrees here today, but it was lovely. The other thing to celebrate about this hike is I did it without wearing my knee braces. I’ve been feeling stronger, and like I could do it without them, and I was right.

2. Truth: As humans we are wired to seek out the danger in our environment. Long ago this was absolutely necessary to our survival. We needed to watch for predators and be careful of various poisonous things and mindful of the weather, etc. There is a small, old, deep part of our brain that is still doing this work even now, which explains some of the mystery anxiety we often feel. That is simply the context you need for what I really want to point out — even though we are wired this way, the tiniest beautiful thing can cheer us up, stay with us for a very long time. The whole world can be going to hell in a hand basket, and yet seeing a hummingbird beating its wings like mad against the blue sky can buoy us, remind us that while nothing is okay, somehow everything is fine.

3. Truth: Mid-summer for me and the beginning of summer according to the calendar is always shadowed by sadness and anxiety. Dexter died five years ago today and I still miss him like crazy. It gets stupid hot here. I’m only just coming out of the funk that lingers after I stop working when the anxiety of having to go back hits me. I have so much to write about and at the same time I want to stay quiet and still, would rather read than publish anything. Not only are things not getting crossed off my to-do list, things have been added. I feel awake enough to my life to know that I’m not doing what I “should,” (although that will be changing). It’s a strange mix of rest and worry.

One wish: No matter where we are or what our obstacles, may we notice the tiny moments of joy, collect them and carry them with us, hold them close and not give up.