Every so often, I seek a teacher — preferably spiritual or philosophical — to swaddle me in the cushiony comfort of the inner psyche. Whether it’s the wisdom itself or simply the experience of listening to someone’s calm words or voice, I don’t really care. It’s like the first half of a beer, or a long embrace — it gives me the warm and fuzzies to trust someone like that.
Trust — specifically the feeling when I let it wash over me with its full intensity — is what I want. To trust my gut. To trust others’ intentions. To trust that the next step will appear. Which sounds silly, because it always does.
One enjoyable and productive moment from earlier was the four-hour drive from middle Georgia to southwestern South Carolina. On the drive, from the passenger seat, I had my laptop open, typing progress notes while also listening to music, taking in the scenery, and doing bits of research and fun on my phone. I completed fourteen notes in those four hours. What made it valuable was simply having the laptop open and present before me — an invitation to return to work whenever I felt ready, while still allowing my mind the freedom to wander. I’m doing something similar now: downloading a book, reading Alan Watts quotes, and scoping out past visitors’ Disney World recommendations on Reddit — a few of my favorite things. (Sing it loud and proud, Julie Andrews)
While researching matcha as a possible vitamin addition to my diet, I found a site called “Lead Safe Mama.” In independent studies of about ten popular matcha brands, the levels of lead and other metals were extremely high. So much so that the author’s slogan is, “Friends don’t let friends drink matcha.” In the same article, there’s also a link to their findings on safer alternatives.
I both love and hate rabbit holes like this matcha one. It’s like a miniature universe I step into — I learn the language, the culture, the rules, the dos and don’ts, and try to live like a local for a bit. Then I zoom back to earth and think, what the fuck was that?* Oh yeah. MatchaLand.
I like this distinction Alan Watts makes in Talking Zen: “That is not to say that this acceptance removes pain-causing events; it is intended rather to remove our fear of them.” I get that. I imagine a friend of mine getting sick, growing older, and eventually dying — the natural order of things. And yet, there’s a reflex in the middle of my chest that tightens, like slamming on the brakes. There’s a “not-okay-ness” that rises up. But as I read those words, I could feel myself accept the pain of it, while separating and softening the surrounding fear.
More and more, I’m drifting into other small desires — replying on Reddit, charging my watch for tomorrow, and peeling off my socks to get cozy and settle in with a book. All of that means our time is at hand.
Love to you,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 