Hibernation

  

In some spiritual traditions that evolved in a time when technology had not yet overcome nature to the extent it has today, winter is considered a time of hibernation, of rest.  Not literally sleeping for months, but allowing oneself a time of rest spiritually, emotionally, psychologically.  Although I understand the value in that, I don't like the concept personally.  I don't like stopping and resting.  I have it in my head that I must always be accomplishing something, moving forward, having some result to point to at the end of each day.  What this translates to, really, is that I believe I have to justify my existence by external results, I have to prove my worth as a human being each day anew.  Those words even look exhausting when I look at them, and on top of that, they don't mesh with my worldview.

Why would a person who believes that human beings have innate value simply because they are human beings demand of himself a constant stream of evidence that he is valuable?  I'm sure somewhere back in my childhood there was some lesson learned that led to that conclusion, but the point now is that I realize how ludicrous and unachievable that demand is.  Yet on the other side of that demand, I am still resistant to the idea of hibernation.  What if I get into rest mode and never get back into growth mode?  I don't want to be lazy.  I don't want to be worthless... a ha... so we're not really on the other side of that demand.  It can be a challenge to change what one thinks about oneself.

Which is why I am grateful for the move and the transition away from the built-in demands I had established in my previous routine.  For one thing, living just a few hours north of where I was, it feels more like winter.  For another thing, I was emotionally and psychologically worn out by the preparation for and execution of the move.  I find it easier to rest when I am actually tired.  So, this idea of hibernation is starting to make sense to me.  I don't need to prove anything or accomplish anything right now.  I'm not going to lose my place, and I'm not going to stop being creative and intelligent just because I take a little time off from my demands.  Although I don't really know this to be true, I have a suspicion that I will jump back into creating something meaningful when "winter" cycles into spring.


I'm still fulfilling a couple of accompanying contracts.  I'm still getting the new home in order.  I'm still interacting with people.  But for now, I am letting the winter coax me into some emotional and psychological down time, free of my typical demands.  The interesting thing is that resting from my demands about what I do external to myself opens space for a different kind of growth.  Creating evidence that is visible to me and other people about my value is a bit of a drain.  During a time of rest, there is still activity inside of my own psyche, connections being drawn, ideas being incubated... the kind of inner work that may actually lead to an easier manifestation of creativity and forward motion when the time is right.   

How Selfish

When the flight attendants do the bit about putting on your own oxygen mask before helping those around you, it has always been clear why they would need to tell me that so directly.  It's natural for me to put aside my own wants or needs for other people.  So if a situation demands that I take care of myself first, it seems like the exception.  I'm realizing how much more that could represent the norm, how satisfying it can be to focus my attention on my own personal vision.

In the past, I've written about my fear that, underneath it all, I'm a selfish person.  This fear has been with me for awhile, but over the last couple of years, I have focused more purposefully on ridding myself of it.  The problem has been that so much of what I am truly passionate about was taking a backseat to other noble endeavors, and to concentrate more fully on my own dreams and personal vision seemed selfish.  It's hard to get rid of a belief when one is regularly creating new evidence for it.  At the same time, I frequently allow my own goals to be less important than the goals of others, probably because I don't want to appear selfish to myself or anybody else.   

Not being selfish has been the underlying cause of many issues for me.  Most of the situations that I found dissatisfying as an adult have resulted from me working to improve the processes or culture of a place when my ideas were not universally valued.  Instead of focusing my efforts on what mattered most to me, I sublimated what I saw as selfish goals for the sake of a greater good.  I turned my creative abilities and strategic skill toward external organizations rather than using them for my own selfish endeavors, and in so doing, I created a no-win situation for myself.

Now, I believe that there is a difference between being selfish and being self-absorbed.  I believe that one can be both selfish and compassionate.  In fact, I believe that one must be selfish in order to see a personal vision through to fruition.  Creating a life with deep personal meaning often requires guarding time against distractions and choosing relationships that are supportive over those that are toxic.  One may call it self-awareness to soften the blow, but it has certainly felt like selfishness to me.  The truth is, there has never been anything wrong with being selfish, aside from my own personal judgment against myself.

The big lie was not that I am a selfish person.  The big lie is that it is wrong to be selfish.  If I focus on the things I most want in my life, I'll still be creating something that has a broader impact, but it won't be at the expense of my own satisfaction.  Giving myself permission to be selfish without imposing anything on anyone else is one of the most freeing things I have ever done.  I am still interested in being of service to other people, and I know that I will be.  But it makes sense to secure my own oxygen mask and breathe for myself before I help the people around me.

Feeling the Rhythm

When expressed in their most simplistic iterations, astrological and biorhythm forecasts just seem silly to me.  Can it be that everyone born on the same day will really experience more or less the same life, with ups and downs coinciding in a lifetime of synchronicity?  The idea is hard for me to digest.  So I don't.  I typically think of it as a bit of fun and leave it at that. 

Someone was recently explaining a more in-depth astrological approach to me, and I began to see how the fortune-cookie blurbs in the morning paper don't do the practice justice.  When a full blown astrological reading is done, there is a lot more specific information taken into consideration than I ever realized.  Shortly after this conversation, I was reading about biorhythms. Once again, I learned that some people get much more involved than drawing a few simple sine waves and matching them up with dates. I still don't know that I believe one can make accurate predictions about another person's life, even with an elaborate system of forecasting. But it did get me thinking.

I create plans days, sometimes weeks, in advance. I know what I expect to be working on way ahead of time, even though I don't know how I'm going to feel or what other things may crop up. It's a flexible plan, by necessity, but I am not always flexible with myself. If I have planned to work on a brass ensemble piece next Tuesday, and then I wake up feeling rather uninspired, my typical response is to work on the brass ensemble piece anyway and just trust that inspiration will eventually be there.

My fear is that if I take a day off, or if I postpone something on the schedule, I'll never go back to it. I'll become a lazy underachiever with nothing to show for my all my creativity and experience. A bit drastic, eh? But that fear creates a demand that I must keep to my schedule, I must keep on track with my projects at all costs. I don't always like what I create out of that fear, but at least I stick to the plan.

The strange thing is, sometimes I do wind up taking a little time off. Sometimes I do get off track with my preconceived schedule. There are days that I just can't concentrate on the creative work, or I don't like anything that I'm creating, and I have always gone back to it later with renewed interest and inspiration. It's often just a matter of giving myself a little time to take a break and recharge.

I don't know if it has anything to do with when I was born or where the stars were at the time, but my life does have a rhythm. It may be a bit more complex than simple sine waves, but there is value in tuning in to what I'm feeling at any given time. Not only is it alright to allow myself to feel uninspired, it's the most honest thing to do some days. Giving myself permission to take a day off and trusting that I will come back to my creative projects refreshed is simply a way of recognizing the rhythm of my life. Forcing creativity can get the work done, but allowing it to flow naturally helps me to enjoy what I create.

Resting

Over the course of the last week, I have had dozens of ideas for carrying the percussion (plus some other instruments) forward, a list of opportunities for the new Power of Connection mentor course I'm now licensed to teach, a growing batch of things to repair around the house, and some strong motivation to advance a couple of other creative projects I put on hold a couple of months ago. And I have done very little of it.

I actually have contacted a few people and venues about some Power of Connection ideas, and I have been actively preparing for the Houston More To Life Weekend in August. But everything else has been postponed. I have had guests staying with me, and it has been more important to me that I am available to them to visit and see what there is of interest to see in and around Houston. At the same time, my mind has been divided, wanting to move on things. Take action. Get going. Music isn't going to write itself. Things won't fix themselves. Courses won't plan themselves.

It has been a challenge to my commitment to give myself time of quality rest so that I can enjoy sprinting ahead when it's time to do so. And it isn't really a matter of which activities are restful and which are not. The connection with other people rejuvenates, sharpens, and energizes me, and I am capable of resting in the midst of being refueled. Even if a part of me is absolutely ready to take off into what comes next.

Trusting

The More To Life weekend had been going well. I had taken time to be well-prepared for my role, and I had plenty of people contributing toward my vision of that role. I was really getting that I can trust other people (and myself) and relax and enjoy the experience of serving as a part of an incredible team. Then Sunday evening came along.

I hadn't eaten much lunch, my first mistake. When I care for my own health and well being, I am infinitely more capable to create what I want to in the world. But I didn't, so I was getting into a spiral about how much I had to do and how little time I had to do it. I was irritable that our team meeting was taking time away from what I needed to do, and I was frustrated that I was being asked to assist in other tasks when I already had so much on my own plate. I began to believe that I was on the verge of failure, and I became driven.

As I started in on getting things done, other people stepped up to contribute and they encouraged me to go and eat. That was when I realized that I had sabotaged myself by not eating anything for lunch. I was still in a very driven space, though, in spite of getting the message over and over again that I had plenty of time and plenty of people to get things done. First, my food was too hot and I had to wait to eat it (safely); one of my teammates pointed out that it was getting me to slow down. A document that was being updated was still being formatted when I got back from dinner, so I had to wait on that. The venue's copier jammed part way through making the copies I needed, so I had to wait on that. And all the while I had people asking what they could do to contribute.

When I really got the message, though, was when I wound up with everything ready to go and about 90 minutes before it was needed. I literally was sitting around with nothing to do but breathe and wait. I don't have to be on the verge of failure to be doing my best. Everything had been accomplished, I had plenty of people and plenty of time. And I usually do, whether I acknowledge it or not.

Bubble Bath

As a team member for the upcoming More To Life Weekend, I was recently given an "egg assignment." These were individual, randomly selected ways to be intentional about how they engaged life, others, and themselves in preparation for serving. My egg assignment was to "nurture myself with a bubble bath." Some people considered me to be quite lucky. Well, while I gave it a try, I'm concluding that I'm not a "bubble bath" kind of guy. But more about that in a moment...

My thoughts upon receiving the egg assignment: Why is it lucky for me to get assigned to take a bubble bath? Couldn't a person who wants to take a bubble bath do so without having it assigned to them? I don't think I have ever taken a bubble bath as an adult. I'm willing to give it a try.

So, I knew that we had some sort of paraphernalia around here, fragrant salts and Calgon and what-have-you. So my first intentional step with this was asking for a little assistance in locating it. Joy was of great assistance, and offered impishly gleeful recommendations. I had thought about waiting until after all of the Easter services were over tomorrow, but since the opportunity arose today I went for it.

It was relaxing to be not doing anything for awhile, and I intentionally didn't have anything to read or work on so my mind could take a break too. The warmth of the water and the added salts and bubbles were definitely an out of the ordinary experience, but I think the stillness was actually a bigger part of the experience. It was just a moment out of time. At first.

Then, I started thinking about all of the things that I wanted to accomplish in the next few days: working on a couple of pieces of music, preparing for a weekly role-playing game, potential entries for the blog, making some progress on my personal online networking initiative. And I got critical of myself for not relaxing. "I always seem to be busy with something, and I can't even let myself take a little time to do nothing." Wrestling with my judgment of myself and my "inability to just relax," though, I became aware of something about my busyness that I often overlook.

I actually enjoy a large percentage of how I spend my time now. It is actually nurturing to my mind to be creative, to find ways to connect with people, to be musical. I am energized by the vision and plans I have for my life, and it is fun and exciting to spend time and energy on that journey. So I can kick back and physically relax, but putting restrictions of how active my mind is can be the opposite of nurturing.

So, when I got out of the bubble bath, I was physically relaxed, but my brain was joyfully working away. I was happy to have so many things that engage me and that propel me forward. I found myself grateful that there were too many things to do in a day because they were all things I wanted to do rather than things I had to get accomplished. That hasn't always been the way I've looked at my busyness, and it was a refreshing perspective I'd like to hang on to.

Then, I walked out into a cloud of swarming termites all around our big dining table. Lots of reactivity to that. I could see them completely obscuring the soffits when I looked out the window. The "bug man" is on his way as I type. Good thing I had that relaxing time to gain a little perspective on the big picture of how I nurture myself. If I choose to, I can still create and prepare for the things I really enjoy in life while I'm sweeping up the hundreds of insects that have invaded my space. I mean there's practically a carpet of the things, people. It's kind of disgusting.