A toxic roommate situation back home has me crashing with my guy at his place in the city. I also quit my troublesome full time job without having something solid lined up, so I’m scampering around between part time gigs while I search for more meaningful, stable work.
Despite everything being up in the air, I’m not complaining. I intentionally pulled the rug out from under myself! It’s an expression of wakefulness to change the patterns that no longer serve us. It’s freedom at its best. I’m opening up space for situations that are more in accord with what I find to be true and valuable.
That said, being out of an apartment and a job has obviously been cause for some worry. What’s magical, though, is that less than a year ago, this kind of turmoil probably would have rendered me a weepy mess. Nowadays I feel pretty confident about my choices, even if they are throwing me into uncertain circumstances. What has changed?
For one, I know where to look for support. The people I’m closest to at this wondrous point are the ones who don’t necessarily think they know best. They aren’t looking to save me, and they don’t press me with advice. Instead, they offer their experience and leave it to me to make decisions for myself. And no matter what I decide to do, they offer me love. We share meals and hugs, and set aside distractions in order to give each other our full attention.
My truest friends show me, by encouragement and example, that I have the wisdom and courage to listen deeply and follow my own path. I’m grateful to these people, and I don’t invest much energy in those who can’t meet me this way. This is a big change in my relationship paradigm. Maybe it goes without saying that my posse has shrunken…a lot. But I’m totally okay with that.
Another reason I feel grounded is that I meditate every day, which tends to put a cork in my drama-hole.
You might think that sitting around on a cushion while your life is in apparent shambles is not the right course of action. Maybe the better thing to do would be to toil relentlessly until I come up with a solution to my problems.
On the other hand, my mind keeps pretty busy at problem-solving whether I sit or not. Meditating just keeps it from going into emotional overdrive and blowing a gasket, so to speak.
So much of our mental energy is wasted on being afraid. Am I doing the right thing? What if this doesn’t work out the way I want it to? The irony is that all that agonizing just keeps us from being able to give full attention to where we’re at. It’s easy to get caught up in anti-fantasies about all the wrong turns we haven’t even made yet.I bring my focus out of my mind and into my body, inhabiting the reality of my senses. On their own, thoughts have no substance, so they’re almost impossible to work with. Physical sensations, however, are tangible. I ask, How does this anxiety feel? A tightening in the chest, tension in the back of my neck, jitters in my tummy. I keep coming back to my senses, remembering again and again to live in my body.
Some ways that I come back to reality: I practice yoga, eat a nourishing meal, clean the shoebox-sized space I’m sharing with my boyfriend, or go for a walk or a bike ride. By working with my actual, physical being – which is not only my body, but the space I inhabit – I allow there to be some room around my thoughts. I don’t ignore what’s going on in my mind, but I don’t let it distract me from where I am.
It takes a lot of trust to step out of the storyline and just be here, and I don’t always succeed at it. Sometimes I definitely get caught up in feeling angry at my jerk roommate. I get homesick for my own space, or anxious that I won’t be able to pay my bills.
But if I do catch myself in the path of a mental avalanche, I can step out of its way and watch the feelings as they pass. If we can relate to our thoughts without letting them take us away, we can endure - and even grow - in each moment, even (especially) when there's discomfort.
When we are supported by love, and our mind and body are on the same page, we can move more wisely into the next moment, and the next moment, and the next moment. The future is not a freight train full of promise or despair heading straight for us. We're already on board.
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