Developing a Practice

Have I told you when I go to post a blog, I place my hand up to the laptop screen? It’s to block my sight from the number of views of previous posts. I don’t quite understand why do it, be it a tic or a superstition, but if WordPress is listening, please provide an viewer stats on/off toggle so I can post in peace.

Developing a practice is the main takeaway from a long-overdue phone call from Lawrence, Kansas to Bonney Lake, Washington with my writer friend Joey. Even though the majority of our conversation centered around death as he struggled with acceptance of the passing of his 22-year-old dog.

“I loved her to death,” he told me, recounting her final days and the farm vet who, despite a lack of bedside manner, showed compassion. “People say they’re sorry, but they don’t understand. A part of me is gone.” Moments later, he added, “But they do get it; we all share this.” Towards the end of our conversation, we shifted to our writing practices. Joey has no expectations regarding my participation in our writing group but had some advice for me: “Your ‘shoulds’ are disallowing you from the freedom of choice.” I know he’s right; there are multiple areas I feel stuck.

When I write on my blog, however, I enjoy the freedom to write whatever I wish. Whether it’s a little a lot or just a few pictures. I meet myself here without expectations, making it easy, simple, light, and comfortable. And that’s a skill I’d like to replicate.

Likely from our talk, at 3:00am I lay awake for at least an hour with my mind buzzing with ideas. Something in our conversation unhitched me like a too-big balloon in a Macy’s Day windstorm. So I played with restructuring the “whys” of my day. While writing is always on the list, gone away are the writing challenges, posting them, and interacting with other writers. That and working out have felt like being in a jail cell, my bony fingers slipping through the bars, grasping for the pen, the mat, and other people, but the bars separate me, causing me to wither.

Why do I stunt my own growth? Why am I so rigid that I only allow certain joys and block others?

The “why” I’ve come to is intriguing. Time, I feel, has been a loaded gun pressed against my temple. Fear of missing out, fear of losing time, fear that time is slipping through my fingers, and fear of not having enough time. What’s even crazier is that I’m not alone in this fear; I see it everywhere.

Because of the fear of time, I’ve bullied others. “No time to lose,” I say, muscling those around me into submission, “There’s no time to waste.” I’ve been so scared in the corner of my cell, as life passes by outside. And that’s been the most painful part: knowing the sun rays exist but unable to bask in it.

So, as I’ve sat in a caged room with a finger on the trigger. Stuck. Writing for the danger to pass but it never does.

With the key to the cell, I’m stepping out. Breathing in the fresh air, and then going back in unlock the others. Over the loudspeaker I’ll declare, “Come on out,” and slow creaks will come as others emerge from their cells.

Without fear, we are free. Without the threat of past pains, we are capable of navigating today on today’s terms, moment to moment.

What am I doing with my freedom? Creating practices. Writing practices, body movement practices, all while inviting in spontaneity. I organized my clothes closet, as the pile of jeans, sweaters, and shoes strewn didn’t feel good to me. Without a practice, I’ve blocked out the importance of this task, throwing my hands in the air in resignation. I’m changing my “should,” to practice. When I engage in hanging, folding, and setting shoes in order, I feel like I’m showing up for myself in the way I need. Working out, moving my body, and giving myself the space to show up is something I’ve throttled. It’s been a guilty, heavy, and joy-strangling relationship. So, I’m going to show up. Even if it’s sitting on my yoga mat and staring at it and doing nothing. Just showing up, and giving myself the opportunity, even if I don’t take it. Like I do here. No expectations, a little space to connect with myself and see where I’m at.

I have this expectation that because I have these practices, it’ll make me happy and that I’ll feel good. I’m sure I will from time to time, but these practices are there to meet me where I’m at, in any mood, upset, or whatever.

Rolling out my yoga mat for the first time in months had me doing a few rounds of pushups and pulling my legs into my body while arching my back. I was a little distracted with my phone, which I’d prefer not take into tomorrow’s practice. For now, I’m proud to say I touched on all the areas I wanted: playing with Evelyn, painting, reading, writing, studying Spanish, clipping branches in the yard, organizing the closet, and tending to other areas in the house.

One noteworthy observation was a bit of worry that seemed to be saying, “Sure, you’re doing it now, but can we count on you tomorrow?” I wonder if that concern is a result of the past times I’ve limited what I do. Probably.

Night. Love, Jaclynn