My Dad has been wondering how okay I am, exactly — too okay to update my blog?
Maybe that’s part of it? My okay-ness has been very of the moment. I haven’t had a lot of time for reflection. It’s been a whirlwind, a cornucopia of experiences, new experiences, and a lot of joy in finding myself amidst people again, especially children and young people. My tasks are manageable, but they are constant. I never get done, and I make mistakes sometimes too, when the pace gets too extreme, and it would be impossible not to err in some way. It is the most amazing practice, to have to admit to mistakes made, and be kind to yourself. It helps when others understand and are kind in turn.
I’ve also been having to say no. To be clear and definite in my decision-making. Again, not always a personal strength, but the practice of it — necessitated by the work I’m doing on a variety of fronts, and by my own limited capacity to respond — is a practice of trust and kindness, too. Trust my instincts to be kind and to know what will serve my needs. Trust the universe. Trust that I can’t know what I’m making it while I’m making it. That’s Lynda Barry, and it feels powerfully applicable to life itself, not just the creative process or writing a novel. How can I possibly fathom what I’m making of my life, while I’m living it? What a comical task to set for oneself.
Follow the energy.
Where is the energy? Where am I being pulled?
When I do [fill in the blank] do I feel energized, or drained? Is there ease or is it burdensome? Could I feel energized by [fill in the blank] if I changed something that was within my power to change? Or am I dragging a dead thing behind me because it’s too painful or uncomfortable or embarrassing to admit that the thing in which I’ve become so invested is lifeless?
I’m writing this on a Thursday evening, after supper. In a few moments, I’ll fly out the door to a yoga class, which I splurge on once a week because it is blissful and peaceful and calming and brings me deep restoration and ease. Rest and restoration. Ease. Energy. Noticing. All of these states are within me, if I allow them to be. The difficult thoughts, the reactionary thoughts, these come too, because they always come to the human mind. It isn’t about avoiding difficult things, this state of being I’m allowing my life to unfold within.
Kevin and I have been doing yoga and meditation in the morning before we start our day, and at night, before bed. We’ve been doing this every day for months now, and it’s teaching me ease of mind. As I become witness to the human flaws (in myself), instead of being ashamed, I am strangely delighted. See — you are human, and you are also kind. Where will this lead? I spent three days this past weekend on a writing retreat with two friends, and it was blissful. I can write in a state of kindness. I can write without anxiety. I can write, differently, but because, as I always have, I love to do it. The process delights and amazes me.
Where is the energy?
I ask, and the story answers, and pulls me onward, continually toward its centre.
“How can I possibly fathom what I’m making of my life, while I’m living it? What a comical task to set for oneself.”
I’m so thankful for the ways you share your wisdom, Carrie.
Thank you, Ellisha.