"Faith is a knowledge within the heart, beyond the reach of proof." --Khalil Gibran
Today I ride the waves of fear and faith.
I think back to other days that have felt like this. Feelings of panic, of not knowing, and of deep, dark sadness. I am confronted with the vulnerable truth that there are so many factors that are not in my control. And of course I know that logically, but today I feel it in my cells. Today fear feels like exhaustion, wanting to sleep for days and being irritable and mopey. Fear today shows up as tears that are close to the surface.
I attempt to write this blog post three times.
I make some headway and then realize what I have written is not right for right now. I stare at the screen. I notice that my posture is slouched over and that my head is resting on my hand. This is not how I want to feel while in creation mode. So I save my drafts for a later time knowing that I'll soon understand what I need to write about this week. I shut off the computer and walk away.
I glance outside and notice that it is still light out. I grab wool socks and bundle up in my fleece and head to the patio. I am so happy that our birds are active on the feeders as I love to watch them. The light of the day starts to disappear so I head back into the house.
There are dishes to do, laundry to start & fold and work that is not complete.
I am so tired. I decide to read my Pocket Pema Chodron book for five minutes, then will head to bed about two hours before my teens go to sleep.
I flip to a page and read this, "When things fall apart. Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing. We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy."
I sit with it, absorb it into my skin, give my family hugs and kisses goodnight and snuggle into bed. It's 8:22pm.
He gets into bed at 11:30. In my sleepy state I tell him that I love him and that if I wake up early I will head to the beach before everyone else is awake.
I often wake up early when I'm in fear.
I leave the house at 6:40 am. It is silent as only the cats and I are awake. As I drive to the beach I receive the message about what I will write about. Of course, it was there all along. It's how I will choose to go about my day, week, month in the midst of waiting, fear & anxiety. How I will honor my need for gentleness, pause and breaks in a life that is complex and busy and full of "have-to's."
And how I will nourish kindness in myself by putting on my oxygen mask first.
This week my oxygen mask will include:
Taking opportunities for rest, nourishment and play [my goal is short bites of time]
Rescheduling a work commitment that I cannot energetically show up for
Walking the beach
Having fun while waiting
Spending time outside
Drinking so much water
Getting to bed early
More being, less doing
Lowering expectations when possible
Saying yes to activities/people/things that bring me joy
Connecting with friends and those I love
Asking for help
Being gentle with myself.
And now as I wait for emails and phone calls, I am restructuring how I want the next few days to flow.
I'm attempting to see choices and options where it feels like they may not exist.
I will continue to ride the waves of fear and faith.
I'd love to hear from you about how you are getting your oxygen needs met this week? Sending so much love to you all.