silence
I have been totally in the dumps for the past few days. Everything makes me cry -- the movie I'm watching, 1 minute of "This American Life," and old Ani Difranco songs... And I don't really want to be around anybody, but I feel lonely when I'm by myself.
Realistically, this mood has been a part of who I am for as long as I can remember. One of my oldest friends, Numz, reflected it back to me when we were about 16, saying that when I started to pull away from her, she knew it was best to just leave me alone for a day or two. It was really comforting to know that though my behavior wasn't exactly pleasant, she could accept it. But what a weird feeling to think that I could sit in any room in my house for an entire afternoon, just staring at the walls and letting my mind wander. It's like I don't want to be part of the things around me, and I just need a little silence to get through my funk.
This is compounded by the fact that I have the Most Productive Woman in the World for a partner. The woman who, after working for 10 hours on a farm, comes home and digs a hole in the backyard to make a fire pit. Who is awake at 8a on a Sunday morning and weeding by 8:30a (long enough to pet the cats, feed the cats, make the coffee, and put on clothes). It's true that over the course of our relationship, I have taught her to spend a day in bed and/or with her feet up, but that certainly can't happen when the garden calls her name every second the sun is out.
It I were really motivated, I'd channel this lethargic moodiness into a consistent meditation practice. I took a meditation class with my good friend
marnya last month, and it gave me some good tools to get started on my own. Unfortunately, I have let the realities of my responsibilities get in the way of a regular practice... I don't make the time for it and justify that by doing something else productive. I just finished Alice Walker's newest book, We Are the Ones We Are Waiting For, where she talks a lot about the power of meditation. One of my favorite points she makes is that meditation reminds her of sitting with nature when she was a child. Just sit back, feel at home, and know that you are part of the world around you. I really should be doing that right now.
Realistically, this mood has been a part of who I am for as long as I can remember. One of my oldest friends, Numz, reflected it back to me when we were about 16, saying that when I started to pull away from her, she knew it was best to just leave me alone for a day or two. It was really comforting to know that though my behavior wasn't exactly pleasant, she could accept it. But what a weird feeling to think that I could sit in any room in my house for an entire afternoon, just staring at the walls and letting my mind wander. It's like I don't want to be part of the things around me, and I just need a little silence to get through my funk.
This is compounded by the fact that I have the Most Productive Woman in the World for a partner. The woman who, after working for 10 hours on a farm, comes home and digs a hole in the backyard to make a fire pit. Who is awake at 8a on a Sunday morning and weeding by 8:30a (long enough to pet the cats, feed the cats, make the coffee, and put on clothes). It's true that over the course of our relationship, I have taught her to spend a day in bed and/or with her feet up, but that certainly can't happen when the garden calls her name every second the sun is out.
It I were really motivated, I'd channel this lethargic moodiness into a consistent meditation practice. I took a meditation class with my good friend
marnya last month, and it gave me some good tools to get started on my own. Unfortunately, I have let the realities of my responsibilities get in the way of a regular practice... I don't make the time for it and justify that by doing something else productive. I just finished Alice Walker's newest book, We Are the Ones We Are Waiting For, where she talks a lot about the power of meditation. One of my favorite points she makes is that meditation reminds her of sitting with nature when she was a child. Just sit back, feel at home, and know that you are part of the world around you. I really should be doing that right now.