I chatted on the phone with my brother while walking on the beach. I exercised. I walked some more. We took the car in and walked to lunch while it was being worked on. The problem was fixed and not as expensive as expected. Lunch was delicious.
Later I went to my granddaughter’s play. Afterward we got coffee and dashed to my grandson’s baseball game. He made a few good plays, they ended the game in a tie, which was perfect because both teams played really well and everyone left on a high note.
Somewhere in the day I taught the three grands a new doodling technique called neurotrophics. We always enjoy a few minutes bent over our papers, sharing paints and colored pencils.
The sun shone, the sunset was beautiful. A nice day. These are the kinds of activities I love to lose myself in. I’m a little intrigued with nurograghics right now. More about that in another post.
It’s been a whole long week for me. I’m sure I’m not the only one. Our back east life has been pulling at us. Things there and here have been challenging for different reasons. Staples, because the printing place couldn’t print my order. I’ve used this place for years, they were the ones that talked me into the format they finally told me they couldn’t make happen. I’m left scratching my head.
Last Friday seems like ages ago. I’m too tired to do much, but I’m here now and I guess that’s a good thing. I’d frankly rather be in bed.
Oh weariness. Oh man. I left Staples after most of 45 minutes. There was one struggling employee trying to fulfill a fairly straightforward order. I kept thinking she was about to finish, but then there was another thing. The last request sounded daunting after watching 22 black and white copies take forever.
I guess that was that. Now it’s raining. The sun is still shining and there’s a rainbow.
This is a question I bump up against from time to time. Throw it away and start over? Pivot. Do something, anything, else. Hmmm
For today, I think I will step back. I woke up. Made a couple phone calls. Felt a bit discouraged and well, I see that I need to get my energy to change a little before going forward in any direction. So that means no decisions for now.
Now I need to turn my attention back to my own energy. It’s been a full week…
Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?
I try not to compare myself to others, which is hard enough with people who are often all glamorous and amazing. Doesn’t it seem equally silly to compare myself to a cheetah? Or a lion? I’m not those people and I am no cheetah.
There was a bit of prose by Glenon Doyal I recall reading. It was about a moment at their local zoo. She had taken her daughters to watch a rare event which involved a cheeetah and a dog running, and chasing a tattered toy on a wire. It was a spectacle for the crowd to see how fast a cheetah could run. Every part was contrived and unnatural. One of her daughters pointed out how the cheetah’s mood changed once the event was over.Apparently there was a dramatic switch from performer back to wild animal.
Glenon says that some animals can not be domesticated. No matter how or where they live, they remain wild in their hearts. Somehow when I read this, and I don’t think I was the only one, I felt a kinship with the cheetah. I too in my own way, am a little wild. Domestication never stuck, I run through my life, waiting for those moments of wildness because in those moments, I’m me.
There are no words for the freedom of my wandering mind. For a lack of protocol. For the bliss of chaos, for my own messiness of creation. I know the importance of domestication, I celebrate civility and refinement. It’s not about one or the other, for me it’s about balance, but there is a lot of wildness still in my heart. I like knowing that it’s not possible, like the zoo cheetah for it to be trained or domesticated out.
Wild is what I will remain, no matter where I am or what I do.
Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.
Dear 100 year old self
What are you still doing here?! Omg! Things must have improved. Ok good. Science must be amazing. Good luck with the end
This was one long convoluted meandering day. It is 10:30 pm and I am leveled.
I am too tired to figure out why I feel like crying. Exhaustion most likely. Low blood sugar? Probably.
I first went to watch an opera. I love opera. I love any opera by Verdi, the music is always, always the best. What I did not predict was the sheer ugliness of the sets and costumes. I had to close my eyes and just listen to get through some of it, Opera is kind of known for its beauty. But this director took a different approach and went rouge. I hope it was intentional so I can blame it on creative license, but this art was not beautiful. The time periods shifted and didn’t make sense. There came a whole religion part that had me googling to see if Verdi had a strong church affiliation (he didn’t, but perhaps the director does?) I truly wanted to get back to the barebones opera that it was intended to be. Lose the army helmets and surgical gloves and the terrible trench coat, but no.
I learned during the opera that the one easy part of my day had been replaced with a sizably less easy glitch. It got me out of the last hour of the opera anyway, but definitely did not make the rest of the day go better.
Then there was the baseball game. Luckily for us that went fast. For baseball. Our beloved player struck out each time he came to bat. We luckily had to leave Mudville a little early.
Then I had to hurry to get ready for the Galla. (In record time). I spent the next five, stress filled hours running around, I was there to see and support the grands, but ended up with a job I don’t know how to describe. I manned the lights, delivered messages, welcomed the band, soothed tearful children, quieted kids with nervous energy, checked in stranglers, directed parents, supported and thanked everyone doing their part. It was worth all of it, to see my kids, but wow, my feet paid a price, my brain did too. Emotions ran high. Kids were melting down left and right. We had a group of about twenty children there to preform for wealthy funders. If you know kids, waiting is not easy for them and this wait was long. They were kept out of sight in a big room with two in charge. The kids must have sensed the bigness of the night, because they just kept falling apart. Behind the scenes of an event is stressful.
When the band finally went on and the kids and parents had all gone home, I did not feel like dancing.
It was all fine in the end. There were many proud parents and real moments to be proud. There was an inspiring speech. A successful silent auction. A feeling that lives can be changed, schools could be built, kindness might matter.
One child, Helena, stood out. She was nervous, she told us. Everyone assured her that she would do great. It was a long wait, but when it was her turn, third speaking child, she froze. She got out two words then started to cry. The grown up with the other microphone filed in smoothly while Helena was absorbed back into group and you could see the back row consoling her. One nervous kid after another stumbled through their lines. There was a few pauses where the kids were still in front of the audience, but sitting off the stage. Then one by one they had to walk up and across the wide stage alone, take the microphone and say their lines to a real actor they’d just met.
Helena delivered her second part beautifully, with a big smile and no hesitation. Dispite what had just happened, she changed her energy and made what looked to me like the hardest, scariest thing, seem easy. My daughter-in-law and I held our breath as our girls made their way across the stage. We sighed audibly when it was over. All the parents did. The actor then took the microphone and addressed the kids. I think he was off script. He got emotional a few times. Something about watching all those kids do some hard things, inspired me. I won’t forget Helena.
As I make my way home, hungry and tired, after spending too long out of my comfort zone, absorbing too much stress and nerves of too many different people for way too many hours, my own energy is off.
Thank you, Helena for your shining example of changing energy under the hardest of circumstances. You made it look easy!
Epilogue
It actually took me the whole next day to regulate. The name Helena means ‘shining light’. I just looked it up, I thought it was going be bravery or courage. Shining light is better and truly more fitting. Helena’s shining light was inspiring, courageous, yes, brave, absolutely, but her ability to shift to a better energy in such a short time, is what I will always remember about her.
I lost my cup, a favorite article of clothing and gained a clear insight.
I also became dysregulated and depleted and am still. A small price to pay really since I’ve finally learned to value myself in the process. My time and contribution are important, I will remember to hang out with people who also value these things about me and treat me respectfully. I’ve paid for this lesson, and I can’t even be sure I’ll remember next time. I hope I WILL remember how terrible it feels to be treated without respect or witness others disrespected, whether intentional or not, the feeling is unmistakable.
If I find myself overextended and under appreciated perhaps I’ll stop and set some boundaries, because as I’ve learned a time or two, before, it’s not at all fun to feel diminished.
It has to be up to me to say no. It has to be up to me to ask for what I need. It has to be me to pull in and take cate of myself. Most importantly, it’s up to me to say that I’m not available if I don’t want to be or it’s too much.
Peace Kit 