That’s me hanging out during our 4th of July family get-together yesterday. It was hot outside, as it should be on the 4th of July.
Before the party started, I mowed a rectangle in our lawn in hopes of preparing it for a solid game of croquet. The dull mower blade funked up the deal. I wound up raking thick piles of grass into lawn waste bags and the shorter grass was the victim of a bad haircut. By the time the job was finished, I was a sweaty, grass-covered mess.
Which meant plenty of thirst. Stay hydrated, they say. So I alternated chugging water between craft beers. Mostly that left me feeling overloaded and bloated. Which is why, at some point, you just sit in a chair and see what comes next.
More alive
All these holidays tumble at you like the Rolodex of life. At times they make me feel more alive. But at others, it is all I can do to get through the day. This bugs me. These are moments to treasure with people we love all getting together.
Part of that joy can be stolen by a touch of anxiety. Worry is life’s present-time eraser. Worry rubs away the richness of reality and undermines love. If there is one thing people with anxiety love to experience, it is a worry-free day. What a commodity.
No worries
But actually, I feel like it is the people who don’t worry about anything that are often the problem in this world. They gladly coast along living high with whatever privilege they’ve carved out, earned or inherited in life. And that’s enough for them. Let the others go scratch.
“I’ve got mine.”
I’ve never been wired that way. As a middle child, I’ve always been a ‘problem-fixer’ even when it isn’t necessarily wanted. The most selfish thing I’ve likely done all these years is working out. Long runs. Epic rides. Now sessions in the pool.
Sense of time, sense of life
All of that has also been done to give my brain time to make sense of life. Sometimes during yoga I feel a release point where the lock of consciousness comes unclipped. But it always seems to come back around like the lyrics of Tomorrow Never Knows by The Beatles:
It is not leaving, it is not leaving
Of the beginning, of the beginning
It is being, it is being
It is knowing, it is knowing
It is believing, it is believing