I just read this sentence..."her ambivalence between letting go and hanging on intensifies..."
One in the same I suppose, hanging on and letting go. Both are extremes, holding tight to something, clutching it for dear life, or letting it loose, free to run through you fingers like ribbon, unsure if you will ever hold it again. Both hold a sense of urgency and perceived relief. Somehow if you hold it, it will be safe right? Or if you let it go, it will be better, safer out there doing whatever it is programed to do. The holding and releasing are only major functions of the one doing the holding or releasing, the object is not what is important, the attachment to the object is what causes all the fuss. The issue is never really the issue, it is how one reacts to the issue.
This letting go and hanging on business are made up concepts, fooling us into thinking that we "care" or have roots. These earthly constraints, these conditions that we learn and adhere to are sometimes so cleanly unlearned, yet sticky in practice. That quoted sentence I started with is about a daughter experiencing her mother's death. There is such honest beauty in the gray area of her ambivalence between those two concepts. Certainly in times of death...what can one do other than reside in that space between here and there, where it is neither safe nor unsafe, neither exciting nor depressing. That space simply is, just like life simply is. We try to make it much messier than it is, and we try to clean up the messes that we make. What would happen if we could all just observe and not judge and not try to fix everything?
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Mumbling to myself
I'm sitting here, musing over this impatience theme again. Ironically enough, I am sitting here, thoughtfully writing about impatience. There is some acceptance of present moment steeped in that.
I caught myself thinking about a habit I've had, in the past, to push things off until...? Until when? Until I am ready? Will I ever be any more ready than now? I think yes. Perhaps if I prepared, there is a chance I would be more ready in the future. However, am I certain that the future will ever come?
Along with that however is the simple fact that I cannot possibly do everything at once. Picking and choosing come into place, as does what opportunity presents itself. What is the percentage here...10% me, 90% life. That is all I get, 10% to fall all over, the other 90% is left up to that big tumbling lottery wheel in the sky doling out scenarios. Putting it that way really brings things into perspective; that I am a small part of a much bigger laugh in. Does this mean that I should just eat that damn cookie? Or does it mean that I should just wear the damn dress, screw loosing the 5 pounds first? Does it mean I should eat the cookie while wearing the dress? Does it mean I should not eat the cookie and loose 5 pounds?
I caught myself thinking about a habit I've had, in the past, to push things off until...? Until when? Until I am ready? Will I ever be any more ready than now? I think yes. Perhaps if I prepared, there is a chance I would be more ready in the future. However, am I certain that the future will ever come?
Along with that however is the simple fact that I cannot possibly do everything at once. Picking and choosing come into place, as does what opportunity presents itself. What is the percentage here...10% me, 90% life. That is all I get, 10% to fall all over, the other 90% is left up to that big tumbling lottery wheel in the sky doling out scenarios. Putting it that way really brings things into perspective; that I am a small part of a much bigger laugh in. Does this mean that I should just eat that damn cookie? Or does it mean that I should just wear the damn dress, screw loosing the 5 pounds first? Does it mean I should eat the cookie while wearing the dress? Does it mean I should not eat the cookie and loose 5 pounds?
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Because I Can Type, I can Have A Blog.
Anyone can have a blog. Well, anyone that can reach a computer with internet and string a few words together forming at least a semi coherent sentence. Put that way, certainly not anyone can have a blog, and surely, many people shouldn't. What makes me so special, that I am one of the "approved" millions that gets to rant it out online? I fall under the privileged category, having the tools and where with all necessary to make it happen, along with the slight ability to corral some words together into a sensical thought.
Nice to meet you.
A common theme that has been quietly haunting my life and most recently pressing with increased urgency is that of impatience. The feeling of wanting desperately to "be there" is one of such familiarity. Yet I know the worn out expression that, "it isn't the destination that is important, it's the journey." And, at fear of sounding like an insincere brat, the truth is that I am enjoying the journey. I take time to laugh and appreciate. I'm alive, I'm well, I'm surrounded with good company. But I'm no Buddha and sometimes my ego finds the opening and goes for it.
So why this impatience nipping at my heals, and how to keep it at bay?
I believe my impatience is building because I have kept it stifled at great lengths, hog tied and gagged, thrown in the trunk of my life, willed to keep quiet. I willed it as such because I didn't really want to think about what it wanted. It wanted to know when we were getting there, if we were close, and that is the most annoying question to ask someone who has no god damned idea where they are going. How do you answer that question other than a repeatedly furious I DON'T KNOW, shortly there after followed by an uninspired yeah, sure, almost. At least the first answer was more honest. But the second answer became the all too common answer. I got tired of trying to figure out where I was going. I was uninspired. I was a little bit hopeless. I was scared.
Let's talk about now. The truth is that I am still scared. And that I still don't really know where I am going. But I'm giving myself permission to dream a little bit, and to play, and to experiment. I'm learning how to let go of the fear of failing, or the fright of commitment, of the endless self judgements. I'm remembering that just because he is doing this, or she is doing that, doesn't have to mean a damn thing about where or what I am doing. It's a freeing thing to know that my path is my own. I forgive myself for the misunderstanding that I should be like anyone other than myself. I am right where I need to be.
There. That feels a lot better, no? That's all I have to tell that little impatience monster and he skulks off, defeated. For the moment, I've won the battle. Tomorrow is another day, and next week, and next month, and next year, but if I can live with this sense of self assured calm, the space between here and there seems like a nice place to be.
Nice to meet you.
A common theme that has been quietly haunting my life and most recently pressing with increased urgency is that of impatience. The feeling of wanting desperately to "be there" is one of such familiarity. Yet I know the worn out expression that, "it isn't the destination that is important, it's the journey." And, at fear of sounding like an insincere brat, the truth is that I am enjoying the journey. I take time to laugh and appreciate. I'm alive, I'm well, I'm surrounded with good company. But I'm no Buddha and sometimes my ego finds the opening and goes for it.
So why this impatience nipping at my heals, and how to keep it at bay?
I believe my impatience is building because I have kept it stifled at great lengths, hog tied and gagged, thrown in the trunk of my life, willed to keep quiet. I willed it as such because I didn't really want to think about what it wanted. It wanted to know when we were getting there, if we were close, and that is the most annoying question to ask someone who has no god damned idea where they are going. How do you answer that question other than a repeatedly furious I DON'T KNOW, shortly there after followed by an uninspired yeah, sure, almost. At least the first answer was more honest. But the second answer became the all too common answer. I got tired of trying to figure out where I was going. I was uninspired. I was a little bit hopeless. I was scared.
Let's talk about now. The truth is that I am still scared. And that I still don't really know where I am going. But I'm giving myself permission to dream a little bit, and to play, and to experiment. I'm learning how to let go of the fear of failing, or the fright of commitment, of the endless self judgements. I'm remembering that just because he is doing this, or she is doing that, doesn't have to mean a damn thing about where or what I am doing. It's a freeing thing to know that my path is my own. I forgive myself for the misunderstanding that I should be like anyone other than myself. I am right where I need to be.
There. That feels a lot better, no? That's all I have to tell that little impatience monster and he skulks off, defeated. For the moment, I've won the battle. Tomorrow is another day, and next week, and next month, and next year, but if I can live with this sense of self assured calm, the space between here and there seems like a nice place to be.
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