This fit.
January began innocuously enough - a pickleball lesson. Then a trip to Florida to visit my former CEO and his wife. Both the pickleball lesson and the visit were good - especially the visit. Vitamin D. Warm temps. Nature. Time with people who feel like sunshine. All of this with the fist of anxiety closed around my throat and heart. Inauguration. Executive orders. The fist squeezed harder. Immobilizing me. I retreated and stayed home a weekend and fought against the urge to hibernate there, in my soft pajamas.
Fortunately, I had signed up for breath work sessions with Jon Orsini - an instructor I connected with while at Kripalu in October 2023 (this tells me I’m overdue for a visit & need to plan one). I had intended to meet with Jon in December but that month was a one two punch so we connected in January instead.
“What’s been going on?” Jon has asked.
“Oh. Well. I was in Illinois last month - my mom had fallen…been in the hospital. Then I went to Massachusetts - my friend died. He was sick.” I said.
I lie down, prepared to breathe, but before long, I’m crying. Crying is okay for other people - healthy. I recommend it for others. For myself? No, thank you. I mean - I let myself cry at places I’ve deemed it acceptable - like funerals. Free pass. But ordinarily? Hard pass. But there I was, crying - and in front of someone. After the breathing/crying part was over, I tell Jon this and ask him if other people cry. He assures me this happens more often than not and I wonder if he’s just saying that. I consider hanging up and never seeing Jon again but I remember that I paid for another session. The night of the cry, I feel something within me loosen it’s grip and I sleep better than I have in a long while. So I book my other session with Jon, also in January. There’s no crying - instead, I cannot help but laugh as my dog Georgie stands over me and licks my forehead, and Bogart cuddles in.
The last week of January, I begin an 8-week Somatic Series at a nearby yoga studio - the series is about regulating your nervous system and myself and 15 other people apparently need just that - the class is full.
I also resumed my gratitude practice - ironically using an app. But I like it. You can view what other anonymous beings across the globe are grateful for - no one talks about politics there.
February arrives and along with it, Sharon Salzberg’s Real Happiness Meditation Challenge. Happiness sounds like a tall order - I’ll settle for snatches of peace. Day 1, I’m meditating and Andrea apologetically interrupts, “…but there’s an eagle outside.”
Andrea had gotten the binoculars out and we took turns admiring the eagle before I resumed the meditation.
Later that day, I remark, “sometimes, I want to be analog.”
“Like a Luddite? With a flip phone?” Andrea asks, reminding me of a group of Brooklyn teens who would gather in Prospect Park on weekends to enjoy some time together - away from technology.
My niece, Josie, has no cell Sunday’s, which seems more practical. Even the members of the Luddite Club realized that we live in a world of apps.
I appreciate social media, but lately there’s so much screaming into the void - which I simultaneously understand and feel exhausted by. I feel I should do something but haven’t decided what yet. Until I do, I’ll be here - breathing, practicing gratitude, and regulating the shit out of my nervous nervous system.
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