As I woke to a grumbling brain this morning, percolating away at disparate thoughts and insisting I problem solve, it occurred to me that change is not something many of us deal with well. We may keep it internal, box it up, and not let on to the outer world how much it shakes us up, but I'm thinking maybe there's not a lot of difference in how I feel about change than my kids do. They don't take it well and they're noisy and obvious about it, but inside I'm just as noisy and taking it just as poorly.
I try to keep busy so that my mind doesn't have time to go on hyperdrive with compulsive worrying, and in the middle of a regular semester, that goes pretty well--I am busy and tired (and unfortunately often sick) so there is no time. I'm the rabbit in Alice--late, late for a very important date.
But things here are changing--the spring semester over, the minimester (online) begun, and things have slowed down enough that there's time to think, to dwell, to worry, to mull it all over and over and over and over one more time for good measure. The girls get out of school in a week and a day...in less than two weeks summer 1 begins...so much to think about, to dwell on.
Perhaps I surround myself with buddhas to remind myself to breathe, strategically arrange roses so that it looks like the buddha is stopping to smell the roses (why be obscure with your metaphors?). I seek to cultivate those things I do not have: calm; ease; a quiet, still mind. Perhaps I seek the face of God in all the wrong places? Or the right ones? It's early and it's busy and jumbled up there in my mind. Who knows?
Many of my buddhas are in the garden...the garden where I often find a measure of peace, although never a still mind, even though I attempt to become one with moment and all that mumbo-jumbo. One with the moment, I almost have to scoff, but I've not yet had my coffee, despite it waiting for me a mere twenty feet away, hot in the pot, brewed, smelling delicious. However, I am cross-legged like my buddhas but in my recliner, a pretzel, internally and externally, and so the coffee waits, a victim of my busy mind and lazy ass.
Issues, you see, are things we mostly keep hidden to ourselves if we've got any say about it, and we generally maintain a censor, a filter, a plug on what we will share of our issues. Well, we all know people who share too freely, too often, too obtrusively, but that's not what this is about. Plugs are good until the dam bursts, and then you better be running faster than the floodwaters coming your way.
This, I think, is about how my internal reality is perhaps not always so different from my children's, at least when it comes to changes. Shit, and other things, too, I am sure. They come by their issues and challenges honestly, as the saying goes (but is that really a saying other people use?).
I also think it might be about how loopy it gets up under the hood when I toss and turn at four in the morning trying to incorporate those pesky changes into my reality and make up my mind about how to handle them, and then find myself good and awake an hour before everyone else in the house (except the cats), letting my loopiness show on the internet to virtual strangers, leaving me picturing a clothesline and dirty linen hanging...
But is it? And that leaves me thinking that philosophizing on too little sleep and no coffee certainly is risky business at best.
Buddha, take the wheel?