Sometimes, I drive myself away from the page with the expectation that my thoughts and writing “should” be profound and uplifting. I come here now to remind myself that my creative work, whether sacred or profane, is what I live for.
My body is wracked by pain and exhaustion. I feel almost faint. I long to fall into a deep sleep and sleep for days. Yet, one to two hours at a time seems all I’m capable of. I’m so grateful for the online meditation teachers who help me get back to sleep and grab each hour as I can.
I have decided to let my tech support work for the yoga studio go. The income is important and, yet, the work divides my focus and the scant energy I have. S— is stepping in to take over the role, reminding me again that no one is indispensable. It’s something I’ve long known based on experience, but it never hurts to get the reminder now and then!
Sometimes the things we hold on to out of duty and responsibility are the very things we need to let go of to make space for the real work. As I get older, the clashing realities of illness and desire for a fulfilling life lead me to the conclusion that we must make space for what matters.
The truth that the Buddhists have long held to — that life is impermanent and the only real moment is the now we are living — is one that I find increasingly potent. It’s hard to live by with a mind divided by anxiety and pain, but it’s the closest thing to the truth I’ve found. I struggle daily with the things I haven’t done and the wondrous things I long to do, against a backdrop of uncertainty.
We have a genuine concern that my wife will lose her job, which will cast us into dire straits financially. I have never tried to apply for disability. Apart from the bureaucratic rigours that make it so difficult for the chronically ill, the difficulty of “proving” my invisible illness to the behemoth of government seems insurmountable. There’s probably also a good helping of my working-class background telling me never to ask for a handout.
Of course, I recognize my hypocrisy when I encourage my friends to get the benefits they deserve — I’m sure in another life I would have been a socialist, had I the energy of my passions — but I refuse to ask for the help I need. I’m trying to get better at it, yet, I cling to the belief that I can succeed based on my gifts, the support of my loved ones, and loosening expectations of the outcome.
Noone ever produced their best work by pinning the results of creative endeavours to a paycheque. In the end, we must practice “in the moment” living and hope the universe will provide. I’m not talking about the magical thinking that a good outcome will arise out of the belief that it should. I’ve experienced bankruptcy, breakdown, and ruin. I’ve passed through those scary monsters of society and realize they’re not so formidable as people think they are.
The greatest barriers to my freedom surround my beliefs about my abilities and the acceptance of others. Those are abstract quantities, and yet I believe mastering those fears will help me to transcend the pain and live the most meaningful life I can. All I need to do is practice self-belief daily.
Perhaps these uncertainties are the real beasts most of us wrestle with every day.
With love,
me
