Reality Helps

Sometimes my brain falls into this grooved track of not-okayness even when everything is going pretty well, or at least as well as it was when I was feeling pretty good the day or week before.   So that’s the set up:  No new crisis, different, less pleasant, mental state.  Why?

I don’t know, some people talk about triggers.  And coming back from triggers.  Coming back to a more centered, more peaceful, more relaxed state of being.  That kind of aware place where life feels a bit slower and more manageable.  Where the spinning plates gently glide off the poles I am holding them on and stack themselves neatly in the shelf for my future use.  

The plates are content.  The poles fly from my hands to the top shelf in that remote closet, at ease.  

My arms float down by my sides, relieved of the burden, and I can walk, sit, lie down, cook dinner, read a book, even interact with others, without worrying about keeping the spinning plates aloft at the same time.  What a relief!

Some call it presence.  

Well what if, what if, hypothetically — well, actually really — what if for decades and decades one had honed the ability to hold aloft poles topped by spinning plates?  What if one’s family and seemingly all the people all around were doing that too?  And like learning to walk, one learned to exist in this default way of being of plate spinning.  All the time.  And that was life.

And then what if, what if, for whatever reason, one determined that doing that was not right for oneself?  And then by and by, by ways and ways, one learned, I learned, that some people don’t live like that.  That it doesn’t have to feel like that, and that life can be much, much, easier and more pleasant than its been, than I thought it was.

But to get that I had to be willing to let go of the poles, put them down and risk the plates breaking, (some did, life continued).  

But when I am triggered sometimes I pick those poles up again.  Without thinking, I go into that closet and reach up to the top shelf, the one with the old yoga mat, the box of college essays, framed photos, and baby stuff no one wants.  I get the poles, then go find the plates in the kitchen, balance the plates on the poles, aloft, and get them spinning.  Then, in that mental, physical, emotional space, I begin to address the situation that’s triggered me.  Make some calls.

So, what I’ve learned is that  it isn’t easier or better for me to take action while spinning plates.  I feel worse.  People around me feel worse.  My results are ... not any better than they would be otherwise.  And so, for me, the cost to keeping that spinning up is just higher than I’m willing to pay at this point.  

So I notice.  I notice when I’m holding the poles and I put them down.  Put them down before anyone gets hurt, including myself.  And I’ve done that over and over and over and over to the point when the vast majority of the time I’m just not spinning.  

But then sometimes I notice I am, and I need to stop everything, let go, take some breaths, watch the plates and the poles go back where they belong, and get back to reality.  Right now I’m here, this is what’s up, I’m not in charge.  What a relief.  I’m gonna keep going.