A Truly First-World Problem
Vacation behind me, I reluctantly fumble my way through a fully over-booked work-week.
I am the “booker”, the one who schedules myself.
There is nobody to wag a finger at here, just me.
What a surprise, this ancient tendency of mine to take on too much.
I’ve been puzzling with my ancient addiction to loyalty, to commitment, to responsibility.
Perhaps underneath this addiction is a giant and infinite pool of people-pleasing?
If I do everything, for everybody, and I do it perfectly and seamlessly, will you then love me?
Will I then, be done?
What is this “done” thing, Aruni?
And this post-vacay shock?
I’m chuckling, remembering during my NYC life, coming home from summer vacations and returning to East Fifth Street. That was some serious culture shock.
Returning to the Berkshires, to Seekonk Cross Road, as in the above picture, there is no prob here!
Problems emerge from inside of me, I do believe, rather than from outside.
Perhaps in the clear mirror of spacious, choice-filled vacation time, my Type-A-Push-Personality is clearer, easier to see.
In this moment,
In this moment,
Right here and right now,
I look out my window.
The Christmas Tree farm sits, more softly in late spring grass.
The baby trees, short little fellas, poke their little heads above the greenery.
Little green skirts of soft grass cover almost three-quarters of their bodies now.
Their larger siblings, their adolescent brother-and-sister-trees stand strong, their bottoms soft in grass, their tops emerging bravely into the sky.
To see this.
To notice, to feel,
To be with this!
What a gift it is being right here, right now.
How I wish and hope and pray and imagine—less doing.
And more being.
To sit more.
To breathe more.
To let it all be as it is.
I snicker some more, as I remember this wonderful poem by Tukuram, a 16th, century Indian poem and priest:
So I don’t have to write
I love the writing of this, my/our blog.
I love this.
It is the organizing spiritual focus of my week.
Yet this week, I make it work.
Yet this week, I make it hard.
Yet this week, I deprive myself of the deliciousness of it.
So intent on the production of it (for lack of a better word), the doing of it, the completion of it,
I push past the savoring,
Past the being with it,
Past the deliciousness.
Ah, the human dilemma.
Isn’t being human such an odd and funny thing?
May we all savor more.
May we all struggle less.
May we be right here,
No matter what we are given,
May we soften into what is.
Dear Friends, I am committed to practicing more mindful scheduling—next week, oh, will be so much more spacious. I am committed to not making my doing-ness wrong, but to lean toward the direction of being.
I am committed to walking, biking, playing with me and Zac the Dog. I will keep you posted.
And you? What do you push through? How do you push? What do you choose for this upcoming week? Please let me know. I am firstname.lastname@example.org. All voices are so welcomed in my heart.