It hit me today as I stood in the pouring rain by a rushing waterfall. It was a thought that I was thinking for either the first or thousandth time, but was really thinking it today with an impact that sent my heart racing: I nearly died. I nearly died. I had something inside of me that nearly killed me. And then I went through a whole bunch of shit to try to make it not kill me. But the speeding locomotive, the leering specter, the grim reaper's scythe... swooshed by, a hair's breadth away from me.
And, this time, it missed.
And, one time, some time... for sure... it won't.
I was walking in the rain to my morning muffin at Rosie's. I was walking with an umbrella and no one was around to tell me it was a stupid idea to walk in a downpour rather than drive. No one was around to make me bundle up. No one was around to talk to me and distract me from the absolutely glorious feeling of walking in some actual weather, next to a river, in a place that is distant and yet familiar. No one was there to buffer me from this thought, that came to me as I stood by this waterfall.
And I realized that the challenge for me going forward is not to just keep avoiding that scythe. It's to make every moment count. To allow myself moments of thinking these thoughts. To change the way I look at things, so that being ... for lack of a better term... happy is imperative. It's doctor's orders. It's the way it's gotta be.
So, like, what is happiness? I don't know the answer to this, precisely. I don't think it's cheerfulness. Or chipperness. Or optimism. It's not running around laughing and having fun all the time. I think it's just feeling a feeling that makes this journey worthwhile. It's paying attention and feeling like you're really part of the story. It's like not killing precious time, no matter what you're doing.
Happiness, to me, is defined like this: On that day the grim reaper's scythe does not miss, how am I going to look back and understand the journey I am about to complete? Will I have regrets or will I be satisfied overall with how I spent my currency of ... well... currency? Was I there? Did I pay attention? Or did I space it out, try to escape or sidestep the icky parts, lose myself in things that I felt I should have been doing, rather than what would have made me truly happy?
I don't think I'm suggesting that happiness can only be found by going off to the Bahamas and maxing out my cards in an endless quest for physical luxury. I think happiness is not about physical indulgence, although for some it may be. So I'm looking at myself carefully, to figure out what gives me that feeling of being really a part of my life. And, because I'm out of town and have the ability to do whatever I want for a few days, I'm looking at how I'm spending my time up here. And thinking about what makes me feel good, alive, and like I'm paying attention in the right way.
So let's talk about the shoulds vs the wants. Yesterday, I had a whole day to my absolute self. Total solitude for about 12 hours. I had perfect dispensation to do whatever I wanted with it. Sleeping, watching movies, reading, just sitting and watching the fire. Perfect and total dispensation. So how did I spend it? Well, for about half of it, I fucked around with my new phone and tried to wrap my head around iTunes and getting my music set up. For the rest of it I sat, absolutely riveted with attention, putting the opera company accounting information into QuickBooks.
Now... let's look at those two activities. One looks, to the outside world, meaningless and indulgent, and the other looks, to the outside world, like work. One would be something permissible (maybe) on vacation (if you were 20 years old), and the other one wouldn't. You could also argue, that one would look like a total waste of time, and the other would be termed "productive." But ...I'm going to disagree with those categorizations.
First. As I was fucking around with iTunes, I was thinking how I never have figured out how to manage my music because I feel like it's somewhat unseemly for someone so... old???... burdened with responsibilities?... busy?... to fuck around with music. Fucking around with music is something for kids to do.
But why? Why is music fuckaroundable with for kids, but not fuckaroundable with for me? Do I not get to enjoy music? Do I not get to enjoy the beauty of a good (or even functional) playlist? What is it about their time that gives them dispensation to fuck around with iTunes, while my time is meant to be spent on important stuff, like working at a job to pay the mortgage and the cable bill so they have room and space to fuck around with iTunes?
What am I telling me about myself when I don't take that time to fuck around with iTunes, if I'd really enjoy a good (or even functional) playlist while I'm driving or on my bike? Am I telling myself that my time is best spent servicing the responsibilities of life? You bet your ass that's the message. I exist to row the boat. I exist to crank the butter churn. I am the mother and the wife and the worker bee, and I have no business fucking around with iTunes just because it'd be pleasurable to me to have my music somewhat sorted out.
Hate that message! I HATE it! (For the records, I also kind of sort of really hate iTunes because... really people... it should not take me four hours to just get music on my phone, wading through hundreds of duplicate songs and trying to figure out what is going to happen when I press the Sync button.) I should have just as much right to have music on my phone as my kids do. So.. fuck it. I spent half of my day fucking around with iTunes.
So... is that a waste of time or not? I don't know. It was annoying as hell, but it was also kind of fun. And now I have a few good (or even functional) playlists on my phone, which I'm really enjoying the shit out of.
The rest of the day I spent putting transactions into QuickBooks. This, again, is probably something that someone would give me shit for because it looked a lot like work. And non-paying work for a non-profit that I seem to have spent my life thanklessly supporting, to boot. But no one was around to give me shit, so I did it anyway. Now... what's the message there? Well, apparently, I like to work. And I like to spend my time on a thankless non-profit. Apparently I wanted to do whatever it was I was doing, because I did it with absolute happiness for hours. I must, on some level, enjoy running the opera company. I must enjoy working with figures. I know I love making order out of chaos. I must enjoy this so much that I will spend my vacation doing it, rather than watching a movie or taking a nap. So be it: I enjoyed it immensely, and spent hours in front of the fire putting numbers in little rows.
So, is that happiness? Well, it kind of must be. And writing is happiness. And walking in the rain is happiness. And building a fire and walking to Rosie's. And I have happiness in my job, when I have the ability to actually do it. And I have happiness taking care of the people I love. I think all of it can be happiness when approached with a certain mindset. Even the stupid shit that's unavoidable: I think that can lead to a certain kind of happiness if done in a way that is wholehearted and strives to find meaning.
The challenge for me going forward is not how to stay alive, so much as how to make staying alive meaningful. A meaningful, happy life, is going to produce a body that is more in homeostatis, that can fight off threats more effectively, that will allow me to be here longer. Being happy along this journey is no longer something that will come, by accident, when outside forces converge to jar me out of my rut. Being happy... in this sense of being present, and feeling like there is meaning as the sands of time run through the hour glass... is no longer optional.
Which means I no longer can see taking care of myself as an indulgence. It is imperative to keep my qi moving, inside and out. Internally, by writing, doing yoga, engaging in a daily sitting practice, and infusing my thoughts with compassion for myself and all the other in-process human beings struggling on their own journey's path. Externally, I need to move. I need to interact with the real three-dimensional world by walking and biking, and sailing, and touching nature from time to time. These are things that keep me healthy. These are the new imperatives, trumping the litany of simply churning the butter and pulling the oars. The days of delaying my soul's gratification are over.
I believe there is time enough on this journey to take care of these things as well as the daily responsibilities of life. I believe that, if I am able to pay attention and live in balance, that there is time enough to get the shoulds done even when I get the wants done first. I think that putting energy into things that my inner compass is yearning for will beget more energy for things that might not be as gratifying. People do need me. I am, and always will be required to do things that are on other people's schedules, or at other people's request. But that's OK. I think that when I'm feeding the soul then the whole system feels better, and that produces the energy and desire to do the rest.
The challenge is to be happy. To spend the time I have with a sense of purpose and an attitude of paying attention. That creates joy. Joy promotes health. Health enables me to stick around longer.
And if I stick around long enough, maybe someday I'll figure out iTunes.
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