Stop

Whew. 

On my way to writing this blog, I accidentally hit some sequence of keys that deleted my whole last blog.  Which I very happily was able to find, thanks to Google cache.  And which inadvertently feeds into what I wanted to talk about today.

Life moves pretty fast, as Ferris says.  If you don't stop and look around for awhile, you could miss it.

Christmas is not the best time to think about stopping.  For me, it usually feels like a headlong rush into a brick wall, culminating with a bloody mary and cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning, and a nap afterwards that beckons like a reward in heaven granted only to jihadists.

There is all this pressure to get everything done IN TIME.  To get donations in BY THE END OF THE YEAR.  To clean up the business of this year and start preparing for NEXT YEAR.  It's all capital letters.  It's all urgency.  It's all about racing and getting it all done.  It's all about time and pressure.

This year, for us, it's a bit different because I simply can't race yet.  I simply can't do much of anything.  I've been in a lot of pain and hopped up on narcotics and feeling simply just terrible.  I'm hoping everyone in my family understands this, and I'm sure they do.  But it's going to be a very small and simple holiday, with (hopefully) an emphasis on meaning and not materialism.

We've scaled it down immensely.  It will only be the four of us for Christmas eve dinner and Christmas morning.  My presents (at least so far) are composed of things that can be purchased using an index finger and a cell phone.  It took me about a week to get the decorations down from the shelves in the garage and during a good afternoon I managed to get them up in the living room.  Then, Roger went out and fetched a beautiful little tree, solo, because I just couldn't do it.  It took three days to get it into the house.  It took two days to get some lights on it.  And it took another day or so to get the ornaments out and on it.  But it's done.  And, in the process, we kind of accidentally got into the outside lighting box and got some lights up on the outside of the house. 

So... it's sparkly and twinkly and looks a lot like Christmas all of a sudden.  It's only the.. 23rd... so I still have two days to try to get out into the world to do some actual shopping.  I have called in an order to Vroman's and had them pre-wrap some books.  My Amazon and Gap packages have arrived.  While waiting for a prescription I bought a ton of goofy stocking stuffers (generally aimed for ages 4 - 8) that hopefully will be equally fun for a bunch of tipsy young adults.  Whether I was up for it or not, it's kind of happened.  And... mainly since I've been so preoccupied with physical pain remediation.. .it's seemed kind of, well, emotionally painless as well. 

I snuck up on it, and it snuck up on me.  And it ended up feeling like kind of a slow speed headlong rush this year, rather than hell bent.  Which is a good thing.  And it makes me think in general how delicious, and vitally necessary, this idea of stopping really is.

I look forward into the new year with a certain amount of dread.  I'm not sure I'm up for being well.  I'm not sure I'm ready.  I'm so tired in body, mind, and spirit.  There are areas in my molecules that just want to give up and never move again.  And it feels to me that I am about to jump on a treadmill set at 20 MPH that will never stop and will never get slower and that I'll be hanging onto for the rest of my life until I, at that point, very thankfully keel over and die.

That's what it feels like.

But it doesn't have to be like that...does it?  I don't think it does.  And I think that learning the art of how to stop is probably the hardest lesson, and the most important lesson, I've got to learn from this whole thing.  And the one that has to be mastered going forward, or I risk having to learn it all over again.

Stopping.  It's what cancer cells don't know how to do.

And somehow I have to teach myself how to do it, so they will know how to do it, so we can stop acting like we're in a high speed car chase all the time.

I realized the other day that if I didn't figure this out, my stress level looking at my life would be doomed to always be through the roof.  I would be crazy with inundation and pressure.  I desperately crave ideas of vacation and peace... but even leaving town is full of stress.  Looking forward, I realized I needed some way to insert stopping into my daily life, so I knew I'd have a chance to ground, and to catch my breath.  An oasis from it all that I could look forward to.

It's not like I'm the first person in the world to feel this way.  And, as it turns out, there are many wise people in the world who know the answer.  I actually am married to someone who teaches this answer.  I mean, seriously. 

Duh.

Meditation.

Stopping is what meditation is all about.  Taking a moment, long or short, and just... getting back into the natural rhythms of the body and the world.  Paying attention to the moment, and not the brain.  Getting behind the torrent of thoughts and to do lists and fears and what ifs. 

It's just so simple and it's just so hard.  And, as I realized recently, it's not a nice to have.  It's not optional any more.  It's essential.  It's vital.  It's critically important that I have a way to stop, that I know and understand that at any moment I can stop, and that I practice it daily.  It's like those brake test sections of the freeway.  That ability to slow down has to be tested, and refined, and flexed... as constantly and consistently as possible.

I've known these concepts for awhile, but it only really hit me over the head recently.  It's vital.  It's doctor's orders.  It's as important to my well being, if not more so, than any of the surgery or chemo or radiation or medication I've had to undergo to save my life.

I've started using a little app called Insight Timer that tracks how long I sit and shows me who else around the world I've just sat (virtually) with.  It helps.  I respond well to little stars and graphs of cumulative minutes.  It also has a social media aspect so I can spy on my friend Jill to see when and how long she's sitting.  Yes, that's superficial, but it's kind of fun and keeps us both coming back to the practice.

It doesn't have to be done alone, this stopping.  But it does have to be done.  Looking forward, I do not want to long to be sick again to get an opportunity to sit on the couch and do a crossword puzzle.  I long to be able to do that, without self recrimination, even when I'm feeling great.  Maybe that will give me a way to feel great even longer.

In the meantime, I'm going to back up my words and take my medications, and do all the other things that will protect me in case I start to go too fast again.

Happy holidays, everyone.  I sincerely hope everyone has a moment to breathe in the crispy night air, enjoy the lights, and revel in the knowledge that even in darkness, there is the ability to renew, regroup, and rejoice.

It's Not an Either/Or

I've realized that I deeply believe in certain fundamental equations. And that I really need to look at these as I prepare to leave the houses of the healing and move forward with the process of revisioning my life.

These are the equations:

I can be happy in my soul. Or I can be materially comfortable.

I can be creatively fulfilled. Or I can provide for my family.

I can follow my heart now.  Or I can put it off until later, when everyone else's needs have been fulfilled.

I can have fun and flow during my day. Or I can exchange my time for money and have fun and flow afterwards, if I have time and energy.

Who I am and how I spend my time can never be the same.

Congruity is for other people, not me.

Being driven by creativity and passion is for other people, not me.

Being responsible and being creative are antithetical.

Having a corporate job and being creatively fulfilled are antithetical.

This last one is especially insidious, because the easy way to look at this is to see it as a contest between running away to join the circus (or in my case, an opera company) vs staying in my technology job, which is actually a somewhat creative job (when I can bushwhack through the office politics enough to do it.)

My impulse these days, as I'm sure readers of this blog have noticed, is to cut loose from the tethers of corporate America and throw myself fully into a wide variety of creative and entrepreneurial pursuits.  That sounds so fucking fun!  But it also sounds so fucking stupid!  It sounds fun and stupid!

It presupposes a lot of things, such as the ability to be insured while still being able to pay the mortgage.  It presupposes a life of such health and vitality that I'll be able to write books and run companies and do productions in such sufficient amounts that all the money will come together to keep us comfortable. It presupposes that the joy I'll feel at living a congruent life will override the stress I may feel at being a whole lot less solvent.

More equations:

Happy equals not being in a job.

Happy equals being creative.

Ergo, not being in a job equals being creative.

Is this true? Is it really engraved in stone that I have two, and only two, choices:  happy and creatively entrepreneurial, or unhappy and in a job?

I've been binge watching certain shows (The Newsroom, and Halt and Catch Fire and Sherlock, specifically) and realize that there are themes that really rivet my attention.  All of these people are fucking passionate about their jobs.  These people do not wake up and slog into the office, check their emails, and try to see if they can live with that morning's headache until lunch.  These people live and breathe what they do all day, and the paycheck they receive is a total footnote, a thing that shows up on its own as a little extra bonus.  They don't work... they live.  And they get paid (comfortably) to live their passions.  It doesn't really matter that it's in the context of an office or on their own... it's just what they do.  It's who they are.

And yes, these are fictional characters.  I get that.  But is it too much to ask that... in any form, in any configuration... that I get to live my passions and be comfortable?  That I can be materially successful and who I am, all at the same time?

That's the question I'm challenging the universe with these days.  I don't care how it works out.  But I want to remove the way the equation works, the one that says passion equals poverty, and drudgery equals wealth.

It does not have to be a choice between material comfort and creative happiness.

It does not have to be a choice between freedom and responsibility.

It does not have to be a choice between now and later.

It's not an either/or.

I will write this on my walls.  I will write this in the sky.  I will write this until I fully and completely understand it in my bone marrow.  I want to break down these constructs and build up some brand new ones.  Ones that uphold the notion of congruency and integration. Ones that allow me to be successful and passionate.  Ones that foster health in body, mind, and spirit.  Ones that open up these deeply seated gates and let the possibilities flood in.

Cowlicks

My hair is growing back. 

It's way cool to watch the process.  And I've realized that I have no idea how my own personal hair actually works.  I never had summer buzz cuts.  I never really knew where the part really wanted to be, or where a very short version of my hair would want to go, given the chance.  It's always been long, so it's always hung down.  Now that it's super short, I can watch it and learn what it likes to do.

For example.  Right now the sides want to go back.  Not sure why, but they feel like they want to be smoothed back.  And, for better or worse, when I was joking around and putting it into a little Mohawk... well, it seemed to like that as well.  Two parts, on either side, with the hair going into the middle.  That seems to work for now.

What the back is doing... I'm not really sure.  But I am seeing cowlicks in the front emerging, and feel a few more back on the crown.  The color looks some days like the salt will prevail, but other days the pepper is definitely still holding strong.  And there's a chance that it's starting to get just long enough to find its curl again.

As I was musing over this new thing called my hair the other day, it occurred to me that no matter what I do, I can't make the process go any faster.  It is evolving in exactly the way it wants to evolve, and there's no way to think it out ahead of time.  Will I wear it short, or long, or brushed back?  Will I color it or will the gray turn into a cool bad ass silver that I'll strut with bravado?  Will I try to work with the cowlicks or just let them get covered up by long hair again?  Where are we going with all this?  It is absolutely impossible to tell. Impossible to speed up.  Impossible to pre-plan.

And I found some solace in that.  Obviously I'm thinking a lot these days of what I want to do with my life going forward.  I want to know, now, immediately, what I should do about everything from here on out.  But... that's impossible.  Just like my hair, I may have to just wait and watch and feel into the situations as they grow into their fullness.  I may not know what the right thing to do is until my life evolves into to just the right place of knowingness.  A cowlick may appear that I will want to work around, or accentuate, or play with.  Something else may happen that I didn't foresee and I will want to explore that for awhile.

Just as time can't be saved and dribbles through the fingers of my life at a steady, maddening, inexorable pace... it also can't be hurried up.  As much as I want to save the good moments and hurry through the bad... it all goes by steadily.  I can't hold it, and I can't stop it, and I certainly don't want to kill it.  But I can watch what it unfolds, and play with the new opportunities as they present themselves.

So what

I've been thinking over that last post, and just keep coming back to this feeling of... well.. so what?  OK, so I can no longer be in denial, and it sucks.  Got it.  But... so what?

We live.  We die.  What do you do with something like that?

This is, of course, not new information. But sometimes it slaps you in the face a little bit.  Makes itself known in a way that is just too difficult to ignore.

There are all these things that simply cannot happen in our lives, given the nature of our time-bound existence.  There will never be enough time laying on the beach or sailing on the water or hiking on Mount Tam.  There will never be enough popcorn and movies. Or enough time with friends, or enough time alone. Not even remotely will there ever be enough time.  I can do some of the things I want to do, if I try, but I can't do even a fraction of it all.

The big question is how do I deal with that information?  Do I work harder, or less hard?  Do I tune in, turn on, and drop out?  Or do I dig in, drive on, and delve deep?  Is it about creating a future for my children, or maximizing the present for us now?  Is it about packing more into every day to try to get as much done as possible or is it about scaling way back, so that simplicity and silence rule, and the precious moments can be savored no matter what is going on?
On a very practical level, what changes after all of this?  How does this inform my life as I move forward... next year, next month, today, this morning?

I think, for me, it just forces a rethink of all my fundamental assumptions.  Or, maybe, it just revalidates things I've always known but tend to want to forget. 

Such as...

Health comes first.  My body needs to stay happy and healthy and intact for any of this to work.  And health is not just about not feeling like shit.  Health is about feeling good.  So all those things that make my body, mind, and spirit feel good ... those are first priority.  Food, exercise, sleep.  Those things that just are so fundamental and so easily dismissed.  They have to move up to the front of the line.  Doctor's orders.  Gotta do this part right.

I also need to take it easier on myself mentally.  Lighten up the to-do list, limit the time travel.  My brain loves to live in the future.  At its worst, this manifests as anxiety and worry... at its most benign it manifests as a constant tally of things that need to get done, resulting in feeling pretty crushed with responsibility much of the time.  To do lists are great.  I live by them.  But they often veer away from being useful checklists and become more of an indicator of how I will never be able to breathe and relax until I get things done first.  I've gotta work on that.  I'll put that on the list and get right on it.

I think it all boils down to the need to be conscious.  Like, right now.  Since the ability to do everything is impossible, the things I can do need to be appreciated to their fullest.  Sensory awareness, living in the moment, taking a nano second to breathe in the air, feel the breeze on the skin, taste the food, enjoy the hug.  Even if it's something that is just done as a means to an end... I can mean it.  I can work wholeheartedly at whatever task, rather than kill the time waiting until something becomes interesting enough to be worthy of my attention.  Stop the multi tasking.  Stop being arrogant and picky about what to care about. 

Time is my currency.  What I spend it on should have some value, right?  It's infinitely more valuable than money because when it's out...it's OUT.  So I need to pay attention.

Finally... there's the aspect of overburdening myself with all these shoulds and ought tos.  Basically, I think it's just about finding a way to flow with this river of time, in real time.  Not being a slave to an overplanned calendar.  Not being dominated by a to do list of my own making.  Just... being.  Taking care of this life. Soaking it all in like every moment is like visiting a new country, or getting a perfect massage.  Pulling it in and savoring it, whether it's a fabulous meal or a Big Mac. Just... tasting it.  Tasting the flavor of my life and appreciating each fleeting moment for what it has to offer.