Ruby & Row : Some Kind of Death

Some Kind of Death

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The days just seem to slip away. So much to do, yet nothing is ever really "done"--not really, really done. Perhaps the constant desire to "stay calm and get shit done" is a sort of life-killer. my to-do list controls the most egoistic aspect of my life, (well, it attempts to) and I refer to that as my "wanting" self (thanks to Tara Brach).

I guess that's the thing about taking a sick day.

The mind wanders down terribly lonely trails, encountering bears and snakes and too many thorns and weeds.

Feeling physically exhausted doesn't help the mind maintain its' sharpness, doesn't help the anxiousness wading inside.

I'm filled with so many things all at once--sadness, annoyance, grief, anxiousness, eagerness, desire, loneliness, drive, laziness, on and on.

Isn't it sort of obnoxious to hear someone complain about how they're feeling?

Except, it's more of an acknowledgement.

I feel this, I see this. I accept that it's here and it's going to get my attention in the form of compassion.

I speak of this a lot, because I whole-heartedly believe in it.

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So often we are seeking perfection in any form we can.

Numbers on a scale, the fact that we didn't eat any bread today or went the weekend without sweets and beer. The amount of miles we ran, the amount of yoga we do in a day, a week, a month (that's a big perfectionist "death" I see everywhere), how long and often we meditate or write or read because we are the effortless intellects and Instagram and our blogs execute that. Keeping up perfect appearances.

Well, I'm not anywhere near perfect. I get angry. So angry that I recently told a bank teller that the situation she was putting me through was "fucking stupid" (this made my therapist burst into laughter when I recounted said situation). We get mad, we are animals--and sometimes, we act like them.

I get jealous. Jealous that I work so hard when others (seemingly--I do not know this to be fact) breeze by and get ahead (Ahead to where? I do not know. Our cultural seems to correlate the concept with money, success, and Ivy League degrees).

It's okay to feel these things for what they are, even if they are entirely "first world problems" (notice the judging and aggression we put on ourselves? We make problems out of our problems). Emotions--sometimes we act on them. I've realized, though, the more we just acknowledge the feelings, the ickyness, the unknown feeling in the pits of our stomachs or in the flinching of our jaw muscles, we don't find the need or desire to act on the more primitive parts of our brain (reptilian brain, anyone?)

The controller ego also takes a hold of my brain quite often. Wanting to accomplish something, like to check an item off of a to-do list, to pay a bill, to clean the bathroom, to organize my closet and donate the junk I don't need (which magically piles up out of nowhere), to eat consistently vegetarian and light on carbs, to avoid sugar and alcohol and all the GMO's which cause cancer, to drink trendy green juices, to run and run and run, to meditate a certain amount of time each day, to consistently practice yoga--well, "accomplishing" all of that makes me feel worthwhile. It makes me feel valuable and good and whole and like I'm disciplined and orderly and getting "ahead" in this life.

That is death. It is truly some kind of death.

Pema Chodron (amazing Buddhist writer) said,

"We think that if we meditated enough or jogged enough or ate perfect food, everything would be perfect. But from the point of view from someone who is awake, that is death. Seeking security or perfection, rejoicing in feeling confirmed and whole, self-contained and comfortable, is some kind of death. It doesn't have any fresh air. There's no room for something to come in and interrupt all that. We are killing the moment by controlling our experience."

Wow.

I am no longer allowing myself to control my experience, no longer letting myself feel the need to feel whole and good and perfect. There was a time when I thought I needed to feel whole, but I think the wholeness is IN the mess. The wholeness is in the days where the main two food groups you've eaten are coffee and carbs and the days where it's hard to get up and iron your uniform, well, accepting and not berating and breathing into that; that is wholeness.

It's so difficult, though. Many times throughout the day I notice my controlling factors and need to make the choice to breathe and let go. Let go. Let go.