Developing a Sort of Nirvana

One of my dearest friends came to stay with us on Friday night, and we chased an evening full of gin and tonics and great conversation with an early Saturday morning cartoon fest.  Obj. #4 was snuggled up like a nesting doll, and I was explaining the myriad of reasons why Super Why just happens to be the best cartoon in rotation today.  (Even though the thrill is gone, it seems, for our daughter.)  I said something to the effect of, "It's great!  Sometimes the characters act helpless and say things like, 'but we can't, it's written in our story!'  And then Super Why swoops in and just goes, 'well, I guess we'll have to change the story.'  And they do!"

And that's when I gave up reading philosophy books.  Because everything I ever needed to learn about spiritual awakening, I got from PBS kids.

informing the other

Since Obj. #4 has begun dropping her naps, we've had to create some alternate coping strategies here at the 52 Objects household.  (I consider this to be the ultimate design flaw: that right smack in the middle of the most trying and temperamental age, those luxurious three hour midday breaks suddenly vanish.)  One of these strategies is called "quiet time", which essentially means "I don't care if you sleep, just as  long as you stay in your room for an hour."

"Quiet time" works slightly well, but this brief stint of time doesn't do any justice to the nice long stretches of calm that preceded this phase.  It requires me to reevaluate the long list of items I was hoping to attend to during this break, and somehow still fit in my own personal moment of peace.  The problem is that the minute I close the bedroom door behind me, and my daughter is thoughtfully staring up at the ceiling willing herself to stay awake, my mind goes into a sort of panic freeze.  All I can think about is everything that needs to happen in the next sixty minutes, but by this point I can't actually do any of it.  It's a numb, overwhelmed stretch of nothingness.  And it leaves me feeling exactly zero amount more refreshed, satisfied, or relaxed.

Researching this feeling on the internet is as helpful as researching "red bump" on WebMD.  There are just too many psychological issues attributed to this feeling.  I know that I'm not experiencing an actual panic attack, and my symptoms aren't related to any form of clinical depression or anxiety.  And I also know that this feeling is shared by many, many others.

When I find myself here, in this state of frustrated thought, I try to capture energy through sheer momentum.  The worst decision I can make is to walk straight into that tidal wave of overthinking, so instead, I try to pick an action and follow it through to the next step.  Learning how to create items in pieces, and learning how to appreciate the act of creating a singular piece, can feel monumental when there are so many big outcomes bouncing around my insides.  Incremental work is not my strength, and yet, it can yield such an unexpected bounty that I have no choice but to appreciate the process with the respect and awe that it so truly deserves. 

Speaking of working with pieces, and in sticking through the process, here is a little bit of loveliness that I was shown today.  I think this just might be the perfect living example of this whole post.