Wednesday, October 31, 2012

sharing is caring

Maybe one day, the way I was built to endure this world will make sense to me. The way some of us were wired to live through this cruel and beautiful and bittersweet life will all come together.

And some days it doesn’t.

I always wonder why sometimes it just feels too hard.


My best friend, so many of my friends, actually, were built like a Ford (or is it a Chevy? I can never remember): tough, like a rock. They let everything roll of their back. Other people, others were built in my often-desired state: blissful ignorance. Content where they are, with what they have, seemingly without a care as to what else is out there.

Me, I can’t take a pee without over analyzing it. That state of calm, peace, stillness, that I do yoga for…well, that is the reason that I do yoga. My mind doesn’t rest. It is always wondering, thinking, feeling. So much so that it sometimes drives me bananas. Other times…other times I own it, live it, love it. I find it to be what I think of as authentic me, endearing about myself, the fact that I can complicate anything and simultaneously make life a breeze by looking at the bright side, the fact that dropping my cell phone in the toilet has me deep-breathing through an anxiety attack, but that my dad getting a triple bypass has me calm and collectedly easing everyone’s concerns.

I want to live in those other times. I always want to live in those other times. The problem is, those other times, the times where I DO so that I don’t THINK, those times my coping is out of whack, which leaves my psyche out of whack.  Only I haven’t realized, until now really, that it is exactly the reason why I DO: to quiet my brain. So that the hamster stops running for a little while, so that the wheel stops turning long enough for him to eat something and get some rest. (Clearly, the hamster is a He. Only something with an additional appendage would be this big a pain-in-the-ass). Other times, I am so busy doing that I end up ignoring my own burning need to feel, to think, to exist, really. It is just another way of falling out-of-balance; the same way that feeling and not doing leaves me…well, feeling out-of-balance.

I know the moral here is to find a way to stay in the middle, to find the moderation in letting my mind, my body, and my heart, each take their turn at running things around here, but how is that done? Has anyone, ever, really accomplished that? Does anyone, ever, really have it together all the time? Because it sure feels like I don’t, so it all begins again. The cycle of letting one versus the other run the show. Because then I look at my friends, my neighbors, my family (well, let’s be honest – not my family…we are all the way we are for a reason, right?) and think, “Wow, they have it all together. They know when to step back, get some perspective.” And then I wonder where my balance, my perspective, has gone. Then I can’t embrace, own, or even snuggle with my own nature because how can I love something that doesn’t know how to keep balanced?!? Everyone I know is balanced. Even the neighbors can keep balanced. Who wants to snuggle and get cozy with something that keeps kicking you?

Yup. Just like I told my best friend. Me?? Not dramatic…at all. (Which I bet you completely guessed by my lack of italics use, no?)

So what, you say, is the purpose of putting this down on paper? Probably none, really. However, from experience I can say that hearing or reading that someone else, even one person out there, feels the same way even for a moment, it helps me. It makes me feel less like a hamster on a wheel and more like a hamster that is part of a family of hamsters. The ones you see in PetSmart frolicking in their cages, waiting for the right child to wander in and con a parent into buying them. The ones with friends who actually want to take turns on the wheel with them. It make me feel less alone; more on the inside and less on the outside of life.

And THAT. That feeling, on days like this, is worth sharing. Even if there is only one other hamster in my cage.

the why.

Writing makes me happy. Music makes me happy. Yoga makes me happy.

So I write, sing, and practice. I'm afraid of failing at all of the above, but who doesn't want to be happy? Is the risk worth it?

These are my rumblings.