My Tent on The Beach

I was sitting in my dining room yesterday, contemplating the possibilities for new paint colors.  Yes, I was sitting and staring at the wall.  But it was not without intention.  I got lost in thinking about the day that Kristine, Tim, and Mike came over to put the first color on the walls–I can remember what they were wearing, what we talked about, and the fact that Mustafa got sick and tired of the noise at about 10pm and we had to call it a night. And then I remembered thinking to myself on that painting day, “It’ll be a weird moment when you stop and think about this very moment sometime in the future.  I wonder what you’ll be thinking about?”  And I found myself in “that moment”–and realized that things are moving in very real, visceral ways.

I’ve always played that little game with myself.  It’s a more abstract way of throwing down breadcrumbs–purposely–to remember and reflect on the differences between the way I think things will happen and the way they actually unfold.  Whenever I hit a “that moment,” I’m consistently amazed (and sometimes awed) by the incredible ways things work out.  It didn’t used to be my mantra but one of my new favorite phrases to insert anywhere doubt lives is “It’ll all work out.”  It’s my game that allows me to know that’s the case.  And even more incredibly, I’m never dissatisfied with the ways in which things work out.  It turns out life is a much better storyteller than I…it always throws in a plot twist I never could have dreamed up in a million years.

What’s interesting about the way the game has changed for me over the years is “that moment” used to be determined at the start of something big: when I started grad school, I wondered what it would feel like the first time I said, “This is the start of my 6th year” (sadly, I never imagined saying things like “this is the start of my 8th year” or “I’ve been doing this almost a decade” but I’d better start getting prepared).  In my first year in Chicago, I wondered where I’d be living 5 years down the road.  (The answer turns out to be “here.”)  And when it comes to people…well, those are stories I never could have even dreamed.  It seems, almost, that Chicago has upended almost everything I expected when I first got here.  My best friends are people that, upon meeting them I thought, “I want to be their friend but I don’t know how.”  Somehow, I figured it out–we figured it out.  Others I thought I’d know forever have fallen into the “friend ‘everything’ drawer.”  You know that one, completely jam-packed drawer of not even organized chaos that you just shove random things in and think, “I’ll definitely have to organize this drawer one of these days.”  That “friend drawer” is full of partial acquaintances or those “lost” forever in that morass of “I knew you really well once.”  I wonder what that moment will be like…the one immediately after I realize I’ve mostly cleaned out that drawer?  Aw, let’s face it: that drawer and my living room will never be really free of clutter…there will always be fragments of friends hanging out in there.

And here’s the most curious part of the “that moment” game: there are whole categories of things I’ve dared myself not to even imagine.  Things I want so desperately, so completely, that the thought of not having them actually gives me pain. The thought of missing them makes me irretrievably sad.  I specifically remember a series of moments like this when it comes to singing.  I remember walking out of contemporary choir and thinking, “It’s never going to be more than this and that’s okay,” but secretly wishing in my heart it would be, but I didn’t know how.  And “that moment” is here now…and some days I wonder where that path will continue to lead…and I can’t know; I just have to not ask questions.  When I use perfect, gut-wrenching honesty, my game has proven to me that a majority of things I’ve asked for, wished for, hoped for…I’ve gotten.  And when I examine the means, I know it’s a story I never could have created myself.  Had I undertaken it my way, I never would have reached the end I wanted.

Basically, my dining room reflection allowed me to conclude that I’m a crappy writer of fiction.  But I always knew that.  More importantly, though, if I allow the better writer of fiction to work…the ends…well, they’re always a story worth waiting for.

Yowza…let me talk to you a little about how my schedule has changed in the last 3 weeks.  For the past 2 years (2 YEARS) I was gifted, granted, held hostage by these fellowships I had which explicitly stated I could not work anywhere else.  Realistically, that translated into 2 years of wasted time…completely unstructured, completely free, completely solitary time to mess around with.  Some would consider that heaven and, in theory, it sounds good.  But doesn’t all theory sound good?  This blog has chronicled the actual nightmare…and it was a nightmare.

Enter Situation Today: yesterday I worked in my office at school for 14 hours.  In a given week, I have about 5 hours to play around with…the rest of it is spent either in a structured activity or getting to a structured activity.  I’m running. And it’s actually heavenly.  That’s right…heavenly.  Will it stay heavenly for long, who knows.  All I know…right now…it’s very good.

But there is one thing that I’ve reacquired that I’m not so thrilled about: the feeling like time is slipping away.  I have to schedule bathroom breaks; I know to the minute how long each light is on Lake Shore Drive; I have figured out how to whittle my morning routine down to exactly 30 minutes.  On some days that means choosing between mascara and toast.  As much as I like the structure, I’ve lost a little purchase on the whimsy, creativity…on the felicity of the open road of time.  I’ve gone from all options open (which is overwhelming) to one option open (which is fascism)…and once again I find myself pausing (for no longer than 14 minutes) to reflect on where the balance might be.

I was thinking this yesterday as I was walking home in the veritable fall evening and I thought of two possibilities.  One, I find the felicity in the moment (why does the answer ALWAYS seem to be in the moment…it’s getting annoying….damn Buddhists, they know everything apparently).  I’ve noticed I already do that.  Even though I’m scheduled as I used to be, I’m utterly not stressed about it.  I think that’s the effects of yoga and Tom (don’t know Tom…yeah, get over it…you won’t know Tom).  Two, I’ve found a lot more surprises than I expected to people-wise.  My schedule forces me to get out of my own way when it comes to allowing people the chance and the time to initiate contact and express a desire to hang out.  I’ve been jumping the gun for years now…now that I’m forced to give people a chance to do what they will, they’re doing it…and it’s fantastic.  Who knew.

As it turns out, time is not on my side.  I’m working against the clock all day long, starting at 5:30am and ending about 9:15pm (and even at 9:15 I’m fighting…Just one more chapter in this book and I’d be ready…).  What is on my side is the hard work I’ve done to CHILL OUT, the effects both physical and mental, stemming from yoga and the fact that I’ve been reintroduced to the fact that I have to be plugged in to the greater world out there…I’ve got some work to do that has nothing to do with nuns, IRB, or the word “problematic.”

Lesson Learned: Keep the fellowships, folks.  I don’t want ‘em.  No, I can’t want ‘em anymore. (That’s a quote from a musical…of course I won’t tell you which one).

I just found myself engaging in “Facebook Debate” with strangers over whether or not a middle school principal should have suggested to parents that they remove their kids from Facebook and Myspace and had to forcible stop myself.  I was getting worked up…over the opinions of strangers…many of them apparently mentally impaired.

And this is when I remembered that I do have a choice whether or not to get into these things…thus I pulled the plug and ran to my blog to reflect on the things I can routinely cut out of my life and not suffer from their loss.

This has been an excellent week.  One of the more excellent ones I can remember.  But not extraordinary…it’s been a typical week.  Untypical, however, has been my approach to it.  As I more consciously think about and attempt to seek that which makes me happy, I’ve realized that I’ve also thoughtfully chosen to leave a few things out and it’s made all the difference.  Allow me to explain.

1. Facebook. Much like the principal, I’ve cut back on the ol’ F’book and my life is qualitatively better.  Facebook, I’ve decided, disrupts the space/time continuum.  Because it immediately brings an abnormal number of people into my present, I get superficially involved in too much…too much gossip, too many partial stories, too much irrelevant news, too many irrelevant people.  Why do I care or get upset that Tiffany Vogt (who I absolutely do not know) is annoyed about something?  Yet Facebook allows me to enter into that.  It’s overload.  Is it ironic that I’ll post a link to this blog on Facebook? Yeah, probably.  But I’m not dwelling on the link…that’s the key.

2. Reality TV. I know, I feel like a traitor.  But I was watching Real Housewives of Whatever yesterday and it was so catty and wrong.  We somehow find it interesting when people are 1) really selfish and 2) display it on tv.  Enough.  Bethenny Frankl, I’m done with you.

3. Late Nights. I’ve been falling asleep in front of the tv for the past 2 weeks.  It’s become a joy as I’m watching West Wing (possibly the greatest scripted television show ever) and I’m drifting off at, like, 9:30.  I used to LOVE the 1am hour…and I still do…but it wrecks havoc on everything.  I’m learning to love the 11pm hour (it’s got an extra 1.  How could that be bad?)

4. Gym Time. About 6 weeks ago, I was lamenting my inability to get to the gym.  Since I’ve seen the class side of yoga I’ve been able to admit and embrace an eternal personal truth.  I. HATE. THE. GYM.  I’ve always hated the gym.  It’s always been an obligation. A drudge. Usually a horror.  No more “working out.”  If I can’t find something physical that’s also fun, I’m not looking hard enough.  See ya treadmill.  We’re done.

5. Grudges. Beginning last Thursday (if you need more specifics, I can provide a time and location) I let go of actively despising someone.  Since then, I’ve slept easier.  Grudges just take too much time and energy because they’re passive confrontation.  “I’m mad at you, but I’m not gonna tell you.”  Either confront or let it go.  I let it go. Much better.

6. Pessimism. Hope springs eternal.  I’m not sure exactly what that means but it seems to work here.  Somehow, over time, I’ve come to feel like hope and faith are actually trite and for the naive.  Sadly, though, that also killed any chance for wonder and awe in my life.  I love wonder and awe–it’s the root of why we find fireworks fascinating.  So, maybe the glass is half full.  Maybe it’s not.  But I’ll err on the side of “it is.”

7. Vino. I know, I know.  I love a glass of “somethin’ strong” just as much as the next guy…but it makes me feel like crap.  This really functions as a result of other things (like sleeping better and exercising…I know…who would’ve guessed…blah blah blah) but I’m not missing it and I’m not seeking it out.  If it trips across my path, though, “Well, hello Sauvignon…it’s been a while…sit down…let’s chat.”  The greek ideal of moderation seems to earn its apparent staying power.

8. Acquaintances. People have the power to really bog me down.  I’ve been spring cleaning the ol’ friend book recently.  Either you’re in it to win it or not.  I’m tired of people who don’t return on my investment.  So, only people ready to hang for the long run need apply.  This is primarily a process of letting go of my own expectations for friendships that have just simply run their course.  If you’re wondering whether this is you, it’s probably not.

9. Caffeine. I’ve been drinking almost strictly decaf for months.  Suits me perfectly fine.

10. Inertia. Bodies in motion stay in motion.  Physics…I hate it but it doesn’t mean it’s not true.  Pressing forward is a good thing.  It renews everything.  Keeps you thinking.  I don’t advocate motion for motion’s sake.  But getting stuck in an insurmountable rut is just paralyzing.  Gotta make progress, even if it’s getting to that next disk of the West Wing. There’s a certain brilliance even to that.

These have been the key to this week for me.  And I can do anything for about a week.  But the beauty has been that I haven’t really missed any of these.  Which means next week could look just as good.

Here’s hoping.

Confession: I am a sucker for at-home workout videos.  And I’ve done them all.  It’s almost embarrassing…Rodney Yee–yep, I was doing Power Yoga with him before he was all, “I’m a big yoga creep.” Pilates–Ana Caban is still my girl with all the props.  Tae-Bo with Billy Blanks…yes and yes. And…my favorite…Budakon.  Supposedly, Jennifer Aniston said this made her lose those pesky 30 pounds…you know, the ones that kept her from looking like the skeleton with fantastic hair that she is now.

Anyway, I’ll kill myself to remember the Budakon guy’s name but he is amazing…he’s like some kinda black belt in Tae Kwon Do (I’m sure that’s spelled wrong) but super stretchy so he does yoga too.  This is not the point, however.  My point is he said something in one of the videos (that I basically did for 2 years straight) that has stayed with me.  He used to say, “When you concentrate on something, it expands.” What?

I had images in my head of swirling power energies and chakras and auras and things.  I felt I was out of my element.  It was new agey and weird.  But this little thought has followed me around like a nagging 2-year-old for years.  So finally, I stopped to give it its due and…I think he’s right.

If you concentrate on it, it expands.

Of course.  I’ve been doing this for years but I didn’t know it and actually I think it’s been killing me.  Allow me to demonstrate with…a cheeseburger.  Sorry all one of you vegetarians who may or may not be reading this…but one of the few things I crave hard in this world is cheeseburgers…like the, “I need it now” craving.  Once I’ve established that I need that cheeseburger…it’s all I can think about.  It consumes every other thought.  It’s always poking around from the dark corners of my brain, asserting itself mercilessly on my poor frazzled psyche…until I get it…and then happiness.  The same goes for misery and discontentment and loneliness…all that seem to be conditions brought on by reality but all that are actually my own mantras, allowed to form through the circumstances I’m in.

All of this is a long way to say, I’ve decided to choose happy.  It’s a very conscious decision right now because choosing unhappy is a well-formulated awful habit I’ve picked up.  But I ran a little test experiment not too long ago and, I’ll tell ya what, choosing happy works. I think the key for me was realizing that in my life, the opposite of happy is not unhappy, but worried.  I somehow roll around gloriously in my worry…if I’m not worried, I start to worry that I should be. Frankly, it’s ridiculous.  So, I’ve chosen strategically what and how much I’m allowed to worry about things…and I’ve actually started breathing again and everything.

Choosing happy is not easy.  I’ve been trained in worry.  And I’m good at worry…but it’s only taken about 17 years (alright, alright, 28 years) to realize that it’s not worth it.  There is a time and place for everything.

It’s time to give happy its due.  Thanks Budakon guy…whatever your name is.