While I was away I stopped doing almost all of the things that are a part of my daily routine. I didn’t meditate. I didn’t read. I didn’t draw (despite my best intentions). I didn’t run. I didn’t do yoga.
Not doing these things for two weeks has been interesting. The first jetlagged week back I moved about my surroundings in a haze of blissful detachment. In the haze I thought about the things that I practice everyday. I wondered what things are really important and necessary. I wondered any of it really is necessary. Yes, even the meditation. In that haze I felt like it is all just “stuff I do to get through.” If that makes any sense at all.
I feel like I hit the reset button on my free time. I have been thinking about the this idea of the 10,000 hours and how I want to spend that time. One of the aspects of the 10,000 hours is the fact that you have to love what you are doing for all of those hours (otherwise you wouldn’t be able to commit to all of that time).
I am thinking here about my drawing hobby. I barely picked up a pen the entire time I was on vacation. If I really loved drawing I would have carved out the time to draw. But I didn’t. This makes me wonder if this hobby is really something I’m serious about, and if not, do I want to spend my free time doing it? The fact is that I enjoy doing it, but I don’t see myself ever creating paintings. I enjoy doodling in the sketchbook, and that is where my interest ends.
Should I continue with it? Is my heart really in it? I don’t know.
My hands are trembling as I type this. I was out for my lunchtime walk and almost was hit by a car. I was crossing the street and the driver was turning left and wasn’t paying attention because he didn’t make any attempt to stop until I screamed and ran out of the way.
I made it to the corner and he stopped and I turned to him with a look of horror and yelled, “You almost hit me!! I was crossing the street! Jesus Fucking Christ!!” and he looked mortified but blew me off by waving his hands in a kind of “I’m Sorry gesture” and he drove away.
I kept on walking, very shaken, and then I had to stop on the sidewalk and cry because I don’t know what else to do with these feelings that bubble up to the surface when I am in this situation.
I have been hit by a car in the past and so am very sensitive about this and I am very unforgiving when I find myself in this situation. The last time this happened I decided the person needed to understand my feelings and I made it very clear to them, by yelling hysterically, that they could have killed me. Afterward I felt bad about doing that, along with feeling like an idiot for completely losing my cool.
This time I just walked away and cried. I am not sure I feel any better right now.
Rage and anger boil up to the surface regardless.
How can people be so completely oblivious?
How dare they?!?
I don’t know what to do with this anger that goes hand in hand with the terrifying fear I am also feeling.
Here is a pinhole photo I took last Christmas at the Oregon Coast. I really like the photos from this particular roll of film. They have caused me to play more with my Zero 2000 this year.
Camera: Zero 2000
Film: Ektar 100
Today’s photo blog post is a tribute to my husband’s uncle, Tom Martin. He passed away last night after a battle with cancer.
When I heard the news I thought about this photo I took two years ago. Cherry blossoms represent the fleeting, yet beautiful, nature of life itself. They are beautiful but we only get to enjoy them for a short time.
Uncle Tom was a good soul. He literally lit up the room when he was in it and he always had a joke or a good story to tell. I am really going to miss him.
Geeky photo bits:
Camera: Yashica Mat 124g
Film: Ektar 100
A few weeks ago I was cleaning house and found myself staring down at a slug who’d found it’s way under the kitchen sink. My first reaction was “EEEEK!” And I frantically thought about how I could kill it. I realized, when the initial panic wore off, that I didn’t want to kill it. I looked at this gentle creature and realized that it was actually quite sweet and graceful and peaceful. I decided to instead take it outside. As I scooped it up onto a piece of paper I felt a connection to this creature. I set it free outside the front door and telepathically wished it well.
A few nights ago I had a dream about a cat. I don’t own a cat (or am not owned by a cat). But in this dream I had a cat. I was in some kind of building with lots of doorways and hallways and I was standing in a doorway talking to a friend. We were discussing whether or not my cat would cross the threshold of the doorway at a certain time. My friend didn’t think my cat would and I told him that my cat would -because he always crosses the threshold at that specific time everyday without fail. And sure enough, my cat crossed the threshold at the exact time that I said he would. When he did I felt this profound sense of happiness. I scooped up the cat and snuggled him against me, feeling and hearing the soothing sound if its purr. In my dream this felt like the essence of love. (Actually, in waking life this feels like the essence of love).
The next morning I woke up and, half asleep, I walked into the kitchen and turned on the light and started tidying up a bit before my coffee. I went to get something out of the cupboard under the sink and there was another slug. When I stared at the slug I experienced the same feeling of connection that I had for the cat in my dream.
I have been thinking a lot lately about connection. I don’t know where I read it but someone recently made the point that human beings need connection. I can’t speak for other animals or other living creatures, but I agree that connection is deeply important for humans. I think this is why we become addicted to things like social media.Underneath this addiction there is a very profound need for connection.
I have been dealing with depression a lot lately. It is something that I have struggled with for most of my adult life. Lately things have been different, in a good way. When I am in the middle of a depressive state I am able to realize that I am in a depressive state. This is huge. Normally I let the depression take me down. Being able to take a step back and see it for what it is has really helped. This past week, when I had that “aha” moment, I had some insight into why these episodes are so painful and awful. When I am depressed there is something in my brain that can’t feel connected. It just isn’t there. It’s frightening and horrible. Intellectually I know that I am cared for and loved but I can’t feel it. Not being able to feel it is the absolute worst.
The thing that keeps me going when I am in this state is the knowledge that I am loved. Of course the story-line plays in my head that I’m not but underneath the story-line I know that I am loved. And my knowledge of this fact is cemented by the actions of others toward me. Even if I can’t feel it I know it is true. This is what gets me through.
And since I know that depression is a temporary state, I know that it will pass, like the clouds through the sky.