Stability in an unstable world

Events happen. People I love are experiencing pain. My pet ate something that will probably not agree with her. A flood has occurred and threatened my plans. And change is about to happen. I cannot make any of this go away as much as I may wish to. It is my reality right now.

I can't pretend it isn't happening, I can't make it go away. I can try to distract myself from it, with a glass of wine or binging on some cookies, but that is only a temporary fix and I will eventually be sitting right where I am in the middle of these unknowns and lack of control with the added guilt of indulgence and bodily disharmony. And if not these things, then I am sure before too long there will be other things that disrupt my plans and things I will not like.

Yesterday I heard about an experiment where subjects were put into two groups. One group could eat all the cookies the want, but not eat the radishes (which they most likely were okay with) and a second group could eat only radishes and despite the warmth and the odour of the cookies had to not eat them. After a period of exhibiting self-discipline, particularly for the radish eaters, the subjects were given a very challenging puzzle to work on. The result - radish eaters got angry, frustrated, very unhappy and usually gave up on the puzzle more quickly than the cookie eaters who could sustain a longer focus and effort more easily.

Given the circumstances of my current reality and the conclusions I can draw from the experiment, I think now might be a good time for a few things that will not require a great deal of discipline. Now is not the time to try to sit and get my book report done at all costs. Now is the time to relax into myself. To relax into a good book, warm and loving smiles and warm and nourishing yummy food, especially if it means I don't cook it myself.

Prompted

The room is busy with multiple climbers of different levels. All eager to learn how to be a little better, to gain knowledge. We begin. Trying to give the more experienced an opportunity to understand movement, what you look for, how you teach what balance is in someone else's body. The function of a movement, not just the form.

Then the time elapses and I need to go. I am leaving, not wanting to leave, not wanting the moment to end. Wanting to cover more ground, to get them to really feel it and understand what I am talking about.

As I hurry between the task of dropping my son off at hockey and getting back to the staff for a meeting it dawns on me that I really enjoyed what I was doing. I was lost in it. It was as if the person, Heather, no longer existed. What was happening, the information, the actions were bigger than me. The giving was spontaneous and essential. Their success was my goal.

I wonder how it felt for them, the participants. I wonder whether they felt the same connection I felt. Not a connection to them, but to something really big.

I need to do that more often.