A pause from chasing rainbows

The funk continues, and quite frankly, I'm sick of it. And I'm frustrated with myself for feeling the way I feel which is unfulfilled.

The problem is: I like nice things.

In other words, I like to go shopping, especially for clothes. Even though I thrive on finding great sales, I tend to follow the time-old addage: The more you buy, the more you save!

I like caffe latte.

I like taking courses and workshops.

I like being able to book vacations in warm places.

And so on...

In order to enable myself to lead this lifestyle, I at times subject myself to living in a hamster wheel. And it's spinning more and more. And I'm getting dizzy.

All the while I have the memory of my new year's resolution resounding in my brain, the resolution I really took great time and effort in forming - making what I have work. Although I feel sometimes tempted to leave my profession, that's just not an option. But in order to find some peace of mind I've decided to attempt a small experiment, effective as of August 1st, just to see what happens:

* No Internet (except for private e-mail and writing blog entries should the need arise) for 1 week.

* No shopping for anything other than bare necessities for 1 month.

This is because my willpower dissolves the minute I sit down with my laptop. I can easily disappear in a cyberic-stupor for 2-3 hours without blinking after a long, hard workday/-week. And when I'm bored, I start hunting for things that I "truly" believe might fill that void (but, really, who are we kidding?).

I noticed while sitting in my car for 4½ hours yesterday, how hard it was for me to maintain a single train of thought. Chaos of the mind, pure and simple. But I perservered and came up with a plan to create structure within my physical practice. And hopefully with the time I won't be wasting online or "in-store" for the coming weeks, maybe I'll be able to clean house and somehow start to excavate that joy that so many wise people claim we posess within our hearts.

I started yesterday with a 90 minute mat session at the studio I use. Through the gauze curtains I noticed the murals painted on the outside of the neighboring Thai restaurant. Although blurry, it appeared that the bird depicted in the paintings was just as beautiful regardless if she sat in a voluminous, leafy tree or alone on a naked branch. (I know it's not easy to see, but just trust me on this one.)

OK, it's not like I'm getting ready to join a nudist movement, nor am I about to abandon the material world and live in a cave (!), but perhaps I received a signal that I don't need all these nice things to be beautiful after all? Because all I can say is that I don't feel beautiful having them...

...because it never seems to be enough.

Wearing my nerves on the outside

Since there's something about the permanency of the written word, in combination with the vulnerable exposure that blogging entails, I make an effort to weigh my words carefully in every entry. My intention with this blog has been to find perspective in my own journey through simple, everyday happenings and hopefully allow my subconscious mind to guide me towards insight. My own form of do-it-yourself therapy (for better or for worse ;-)....)

I strive to maintain a positive tone. A humble, forgiving, been-there-done-that tone.

I don't want to taint reality, though; I want to be honest. Yet, since I firmly believe that whining gets me nowhere, and I feel the world has more than its share of self-acclaimed martyrs, I avoid my blog on days when my frustration levels peak. It's also a way of maintaining some balance between being personal without being too private. So just because I don't write openly about my personal crap doesn't mean I am leading my life in a rosy shimmer of denial.

Lately I've had a lot of days when I feel as though my nerves are sitting outside of my skin, without protection and without a filter. The slightest touch feels instead like I'm being struck by a million volts of electricity that lead straight to my heart. I'm in somewhat of an emotional turmoil - nothing demanding professional attention (at least I don't think I need professional attention...), but enough to keep me off balance for the moment.

Maybe it's because I've taken some time off this summer that bottled up feelings see their chance to get noticed. Maybe it's time for me to regroup and consider a new path. Maybe it's my old, inner demons who are trying to fool me into thinking that what I'm doing isn't right for me.

I honestly don't know.

Photo by Philipp Klinger, found on Google

Jukebox rescue

I haven't done much meditating this summer. Instead I've used my mornings for taking walks. And while walking can many times be likened with meditating in that it cleanses my thoughts, I just can't dig as deeply if there is something I need to contemplate on.

I'm in the midst of reading Jack Kornfield's "Meditation for Beginners" and was reminded yet again that we behold the potential to happiness within ourselves - that it's there for our taking 24/7. It dawned on me that I have been extremely focused on searching for contentment outside of myself, especially now that the weather's been so warm and so wonderful. When I'm not just sucking up every last morsel of summer weather, I am trying to figure out how to plan our next vacation so that I can get even more!

So when I finally decided to sit down and meditate today, I challenged myself. I asked my silence, "Is it possible for me to be completely content with what I have NOW (regardless of how NOW might look at any given time)?"All the while various thoughts came and went, dreams about Florida and Canary Islands popped up, begging for my attention, but, NO, I wanted an answer! How could I start pulling out the Florida sun from within? Why the resistance in letting go of, once again, all this desire???

My silence has a sense of humor, I'll give you that... When my timer ringed, it was as though someone dropped a quarter into my mental jukebox, because out of nowhere, of all the songs I have listened to throughout the years, a U2 track started in my head:

Better late than never!

As a 40-year birthday present, my husband signed me up for a weeklong summer course on Öland, appropriately named "Everyone Can Paint and Draw". The best present I've ever received. Despite this having always been one of my secret dreams, since I lacked the guts to back it up (because let's face it, I could very well SUCK at it), I would never have gotten around to signing myself up.

The question remained, however, bearing in mind the course's title: "Was I to become the exception to the rule?!"

The answer, surprisingly enough, turned out being: "Who gives a crap?"

OK, I would be lying if I didn't admit to wanting to be able to create something that didn't completely suck.

But the whole process for me was like heaven for a week. It started out by us having perfect, summer weather. Every morning I got up, went for a walk, ate breakfast, drank coffee (outside), before I got into the car and steered towards Ölandsbron, the 6 km long bridge connecting the island to the mainland. From the second my feet hit the floor, the day was all mine. At the school we sat in a huge studio with enormous plate glass windows from floor to ceiling. Through the windows we could see leafy trees, fire red poppies, and the sea a couple of miles from us.

Our teacher gave us enough tools for us to get started. And that jumpstart is what I needed make the transtition between dream and deed.

When it was time to eat, we were served lunch and dinner. Otherwise my focus was completely dedicated to the act of creating. I have never enjoyed every second of every day more than I have this week.

To have a week completely to one's self. Why in God's name hadn't I thought of this sooner?!

Rollercoaster

I'm feel as though I'm on the same rollercoaster one rides after the first kiss.

The intensity.

The thrill.

The ecstasy.

The anxiety.

The exhilaration.

The nervosity.

The aliveness.

The urgency.

I can't take anymore.

I can't get enough.

I don't want it to end.

Yet I know it must.

That's how I feel about this summer after the longest, snowiest winter I've ever experienced.

It's a struggle to not get caught up in the sorrow of its passing.

All the while my sense of gratitude and joy seem infinite.