Hopefully when you read this, I’ll be somewhere in Kenya, fresh covfefe in one hand, bagel with cream cheese in the other, and sushi in the… other? Below are a few links to see us both through the rest of the week. Here’s to Rest & Relaxation, or getting nearer to it, anyway.
One strength that comes with age, to my utter satisfaction, is the diminishing of Fears of Unusual Proportion. Those situations or conversations that years before might’ve rendered you weak in the knees with stomach in knots are now set in relief against such a breadth of life experience that their power over you is a fraction of what it used to be. That’s not to say the fear is eviscerated. I think that only comes after a lifetime of transcendental meditation, or the sudden bequeathal of super hero powers; I’ve achieved neither. In fact, I’ve noticed that old fears are simply replaced with newer ones, the latter more concerned with community than ego, with inner well-being than with outward presentation. Nevertheless, difficult conversations and weighty responsibilities are more and more the things I push through, small prices for a career, or growth in relationship, or simply growing up. Yet when it comes to conquering one particular fear, I may be a late bloomer: The fear of disappointing others. Last week I had a triple-threat lesson in this particular theme, …
An excerpt from a recent email between close friends: In all honesty I’m terrified, and my confidence is shaken to the core. Nevertheless, I can’t deny the everyday gifts: the kindnesses, the peach cobbler, the call to prayer and the hypnotic, beautiful dikhr that pours out from the mosques on special occasions; the birds in the morning; the cool floors of my house; the farmer who insisted on giving me two giant, leafy heads of lettuce for free. I try to compose my days of those gifts, building out the time like the homes here that are indefinitely under construction. And of mindfulness, and of quiet and gratitude as well. Not easy, but worth it still. Photos from Tunisia’s striking Sidi Bou Said
How many times a day does your heart break? Are you open to it, or do you turn away? Hearts are breaking, lately (Valentine’s day notwithstanding). And by breaking, I mean any state of disarray, from fully shattered to fractured, from weathered and worn to aching. Even those who remain intact still strain from the weight of fear, sadness, anger, deep confusion. Does your heart break from too little, or too much? Does it break on behalf of others, on behalf of tragedy or injustice, or on behalf of your own trials and more than the occasional tribulation? Does your heart break for questions? Do I love her enough? Is he the right one at the wrong time, or vice versa? Will she ever know what she means to me? Is this the sunset of a best friendship? Will she get through this without me? If they are good people, why do they do horrible things? How much hatred can the world withstand? What’s our breaking point? What’s mine? How will I know when enough is …
When extremes feel de rigueur, it’s a challenge to stay balanced. I want to walk life’s tightrope with confidence, as if it were a line painted on solid ground, but so often my thoughts – concerns, projections, expectations, memories – pull me in one direction, and then another, until my feet dance to the rhythms of my mind and they barely touch the ground. Yes and no, fear and courage, action and inaction, energy and exhaustion, pushing and pulling, intention and submission, giving and receiving, accepting and rejecting… But then, the extremes also feel natural, in a way that is wholly me, for better or worse. I wonder whether it’s the tension between them that keeps me upright–if not for that tension, Perhaps i’d have no momentum. Perhaps it’s the swing of the pendulum that keeps the clock ticking. It’s a bit frightening, as stillness of the mind is my ideal. But maybe i seek an unnecessary, false perfection. Perhaps movement is innate and, judgement aside, it can blossom into something steady, a thing to be counted …
A good friend used to console me with the words of her father: The only thing constant is change. There are people who crave change, and others who crave consistency, and then people like me who want both, and neither. If change is on the horizon, I cower in fear; if the status quo is all I see for miles around, I become antsy to the point of agitated. That is to say, i’m not especially adept at riding the Waves of Life. I prefer to be out there on my life raft, hand on one hip in a panic, trying to boss around the tides. As you can imagine, i don’t regularly get my way. Leaving a destructive job is a big step; doing so in a foreign land with no back-up plan is a bit outrageous. Leaving a long-term relationship is a life-changing choice; going solo in a foreign land is, quite, literally, life-altering. Doing both in the space of one week is….let’s call it bold, shall we? Bold seems appropriately kind-spirited. The biggest urge during moments of …
outerNotes 