Saturday, March 2, 2013

Monkey Mind in a Hamster Wheel

My brain is continually spinning out ahead of me like a little dervish. I keep reeling it back in with list making and breathing and trying to talk my way to the root of it. I am moving around under a big canopy of worried thoughts and future responsibilities and things beyond my control. But when I try to look at it, all I see is the dervish, spinning and blurry.
I don't want to feel this way, and so I am trying to pin the source of it down with writing. To grab hold of one anxious thought at a time. Frustrated at the slippery seeming impossibility of this exercise. I feel like Captain Ahab, harpooning that damn big metaphor just below the surface of clear seeing, being pulled along by it, having no control. Only I have both of my legs, I am not adrift at sea, I am not battling a corpse-cheek colored whale of disproportionate size.
I am...flo.
I am...anxious today.
because?
because...I feel responsible for another home and other kitties and I am going away over night and must therefore leave my responsibility in the hands of others.
and?
...I feel anxious for those other kitties because I think that I'm the only one who'll love them up and clean their litter every day and continue to give them food security.
But in reality..
I am leaving for approximately 32 hours. The person taking over for me is a capable, responsible adult. The boys will not die for lack of my coos and pets and kisses. They will be fed. Even if their litter boxes don't get scooped tomorrow, there are 4 of them. They'll be okay. They'll be okay.
I'm okay. It's alright to go. It's alright to let go. Control. Releasing my need to control it all.
*pause for silence*
*pause to listen*
*pause to breathe*
I feel better, calmer, able to breathe silently and let my mind drift without it spinning away from me. I feel present here, at home, at the computer. Bijou is playing on the bed, throwing a twist tie around, and flinging herself after it. Nik'l is silent and reading in the kitchen. Boris dreams of opposable thumbs and catnip gardens. All is well and beautiful.
I'm ready to go on with this day. And if I feel anxious I will remind myself that it's alright to go. That this moment is all that there is, and that all is well in each given moment. That the point of my power is right here.
Last night we had supper with a neighbor who we've wanted to spend time with for quite awhile. And it felt really lovely, and she brought us tulips. Spring is so near. So so near.



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