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.