Curiosity

Change/Transformation, Hard Stuff, It's Personal, Obstacles/Challenges, Reflection, Uncategorized, Writing

Today, for a split second, I was not afraid. I wasn’t anxious or worried or catastrophizing; daydreaming or future – tripping. I wasn’t fantasizing or wishing.  You know, all those things you do when some new person or thing shows up and you’re scared as fuck? When you’re so terrified you wake up every 67.5 minutes, mind chasing this or that rabbit, refusing to calm the hell down and rest itself?

I’ve had a lot of those days and nights lately.  November was a hellacious month, and I may or may not be through the worst of it.  A lot happened in the last couple of years and, as it turns out, November was the month it all vomited itself back in my face.  Well, stuff from the last couple of years and maybe a few other significant events in my life. You kind of lose track when you’re averaging 14 minutes of sleep every 5 hours or so, and lose water constantly because you can’t stop crying.

Yesterday, for the briefest moment, I was simply curious about what was in front of me.  I wasn’t looking for the next thing or assessing the current thing, judging or punishing myself, or wishing for something different.  I was open to the possibility of whatever was in my life At That Moment.

It didn’t last long.  My thousand-footed emotional Luggage suddenly reappeared, and curiosity was swept away in the wash of debris and detritus it drags along behind.  It’s hard to remember how it felt, now, with all my thoughts and feelings and judgments and barriers back in place – hard to recall that feeling of lightness, of effortless wonder and potential.  It’s hard not to be sad that I am not more naturally, easily, and gracefully in that state more often, that I have lost so much of the delight in exploring.

I wonder if I need to forgive my younger self for growing up, becoming an adult – protective of my tender and vulnerable insides.  Some days, I feel like such a cliche – growing older, growing thicker and slower and more hardened to what life offers.  It is more difficult to find the will to open, to intentionally seek the new and unknown, to trust that I am resilient and supported. It is much easier to simply explore the known a bit more, tell myself I’m digging deeper, not wider, but that’s not entirely true.

Even those of us who seek change, who actively work for change, are afraid of risk, of pain.  I doubt that I will ever be fully comfortable with taking risks, but that little taste of simple curiosity helped.  If I can get there once, I can get there again.

Motivating Giraffe and FromTheLaundryRoom today had posts that I found helpful and comforting.

curious

Twitter-fied

Change/Transformation, Feminism, It's Personal, Obstacles/Challenges, Peace/Conflict, Social Justice, Uncategorized, Writing

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I feel confused most of the time.  This constant confusion is a result of an ongoing and bewildering mixture of wondrous, joyous, human decency with stomach-churning vileness, and moments of deep, personal sadness.  I find it impossible to determine whether I’m merely “having a rough few days/weeks/months” or if (as the beautiful, late Stephen Covey put it), I’m simply experiencing the “permanent whitewater” this shapes our lives in this time.

I believe that most of my bewilderment comes from a mental picture of my past as a more calm and stable period but I also know that probably isn’t true.  Even if it were, it all began to change in 1998 (17 years ago, almost a third of my life now) and hasn’t been “calm” since.  Everything I read tells me that most people experience some amount of upheaval throughout their 20s and 30s, and that shit really gets tough in the 40s.  But I can’t shake this nagging suspicion that somehow, this is a result of me making wrong choices, that I’ve somehow brought it, whatever “it” is, on myself.

So that’s  my personal baggage, this belief that I’m simply incapable of creating some idealistic, perfect, shining life where I make only the best decisions and experience only the best outcomes.  And yes, as I wrote that, my eyes nearly rolled out of my head.  It’s astonishing sometimes, how writing down the words in my head highlights their obvious silliness.  But….onward.

Today, despite my personal griefs and hiccups and grouchiness, looking through my Twitter feed brought my feet, head, heart, and hands into a smiling, happy place.  All the posts about the two recent SCOTUS decisions, big wins for Obama and the citizens of the US, rainbows and hearts everywhere, more scorchingly incredibly quotes from the Notorious RBG, the incredible bravery and grace of Bree Newsome taking down the Confederate flag, reminded me that things are not always going to hell in a very, very small container.

Today I am reminded that people can be brave and generous and kind and loving, at least for a few moments.  It is true that there are many, many people who feel the opposite about all of these events but for the moment, I’m not thinking of them.  I’m thinking about all my dear friends whose marriages will now be recognized in the entire country, all my students who will be able to get and afford healthcare after they parole, the women who look to Ruth Bader Ginsburg (1993), Sonia Sotomayor (2009), and Elena Kagan (2010) as glorious role models and shining feminist spirits, and now, to Bree Newsome, whose act of nonviolent civil disobedience helps mark our ongoing struggle to address the deep wounds of racism in the US.

Thank you, Twitterverse, for making my soul lighter and my day better.

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