This week is as full of a week as I have had since resuming vocational life. Over these years of recovery, we have been careful to add things to my plate one by one so that we can avoid symptomatic triggers and lengthy regressions. This has been a long and intentional process and there is still much work to be done to come back “online” fully.I could see this week coming and Monday evening - on a walk with Noah and the dog - I found myself feeling anxiety around whether or not I would have what it takes to meet my commitments and show up fully to each one without sending myself into a spiral. I was mentally preparing for a class that would be happening in less than an hour, thinking about the work that I would need to do after the class to prepare for Tuesday’s teaching at the university, trying to remember if I had gotten all the paperwork back from a counseling client I would be seeing on Wednesday morning, remembering several tasks I needed to follow up on for later in the week, wondering if I had the right parking code to give our guest speaker for Thursday’s class, creating a marketing plan for the two spots that just opened up in my May retreat, and on and on and on.
I was getting quite worked up and wishing I was just back at the house so I could get some of my to-do list finished, when I realized that Noah was talking and that I had no idea what he was talking about. I had probably asked him a question but I was in rumination mode and his voice had been completely replaced by the one shouting in my head and making sure I didn’t enjoy my walk.
My first reaction was to feel bad about not paying attention to Noah and my next reaction was to go right back to all the reasons I needed to be paying attention to all the things that really, really needed my attention.
At least, that was the story the thinking mind was spinning.
Luckily, we were walking outside and it is spring in Boise and that means that all the things that have been gray and dead-like since late October are now beginning to come back to life and flourish with color.
We happened to be walking under a small tree lining the sidewalk and the limbs were low enough to almost require me to duck. As I approached them, I noticed the green leaves growing on the tree. They were just getting started and far from being fully developed, but they were there.
And as I looked at them, I noticed that a breeze was blowing them back and forth and I felt its cool kiss against my skin, and then I noticed that beyond the tree leaves was a blue sky with white fluffy clouds just hovering overhead, and then I felt the warmth of the sun on my face, and then I felt a great and deep breath fill my lungs, and then I felt like I was just completely absorbed in the moment and that there was really no place and time I could be or rather be other than the one right there and then, walking alongside my son and our dog.
And it was all okay.
The mind’s voice grew very soft and slow, I felt a smile in my heart, and I felt content, very content to be just where I was, knowing that I would be just where I needed to be with all those tasks when I needed to be. Later.
I returned my attention to Noah, let him know that I had taken a mental detour, and asked if he would begin again so that I could pay proper attention to the history of pre-industrial Japan and the historical trends of romanticizing the past in such a way that we create representations that are often far more radical and fanatical than the original.
Fascinating.
All of it.
Peace
