Embracing the moment with the help of DH Lawrence

“I embrace this moment” is a wonderful idea, but I’m having trouble with the implementation. I spend much of my time planning for the future and, considering the circumstances of my life right now, that makes sense. My husband just got a new job, my daughter is going to high school next year and I am preparing to “go out on disability.” It will serve us better to plan ahead for these big changes.

I need to understand the difference between preparing and worrying. Here again, it’s all about the serenity prayer: there are things I can change and things I can’t.

Preparing means taking action now that will make a probable future go more easily. My husband will have to travel to get trained in his new job. Activities that were scheduled for that week need to be rescheduled. My daughter needs to fill out and submit forms to choose her classes for next year. I need to stop putting money into my retirement fund. Each task of preparation, though gesturing to the future, is done in the present moment.

Worrying is excessively creating detailed pictures about what may go wrong. I am a champion worrier. Chronic, progressive illness can easily invite worry. The strength in and dexterity of my hands has diminished over the last few years.

How far will it go? Will my hands be paralyzed? Will the spasticity that nags my legs start bothering my arms? Will I be able to manage while my husband is traveling? Will my daughter be warped by being around a mom dealing (sometimes none too gracefully) with disability?

My inner narrator starts sounding like the announcer at the end of an old soap opera.

When I find myself worrying, the present moment can save me.

“I got the blues thinking of the future, so I left off and made some marmalade. It’s amazing how it cheers one up to shred oranges and scrub the floor.”  –D.H. Lawrence

By immersing himself in physical, creative activity, Lawrence returned to the present moment.

Thoughts of worry arise from the biological instinct to Keep Myself and My Love Ones Safe.  It’s a useful instinct.  That instinct has made our species the spectacular, 7 billion strong, success we are today. My spinning, obsessive, negative thinking? Not so successful.

I need to let go of my worrying mind and return to the present moment. I can do that by taking a deep breath and noticing– with compassion – what my senses are experiencing right now.  I can say to myself, “In this moment, I am safe.”

After a moments’ rest understanding that I am safe, I can ask myself. “Are there actions I can take that will help me feel safer?”  If I can take action immediately, that’s great. If it’s an action that has to be taken in the future, I can write it in a list or calendar so that I am reminded about it when the time comes.

Meanwhile, I have a new phrase to recall me to the present moment: Shred oranges and scrub the floor.

Surrendering to the emotional and physical mess; defining patience

When I was in grad school, I learned the word "somaticize:" to convert anxiety (or other psychological distress) into physical symptoms.

I suspect I am a somaticizer.  I've had a stressful week and I feel pretty awful, physically. I don't work my day job on Fridays and I slept until 1 PM today after not having slept during the night.

This month I am living with the promise "I will surrender patiently."

Surrender to what? For now:  EVERYTHING.

There is, I suppose, a danger of being a doormat if I surrender to everything. It certainly wouldn't be a reasonable exercise in some people's lives. For me, for this month, I thought I would try it.

Sometimes it's useful to take my tangled mess of physical and emotional symptoms and tease them apart to see what's what. On the other hand, that's an easy way for me to get what a friend of mine calls "the paralysis of analysis." There is so much "wrong" that I end up (A) not knowing where to start or (B) with an overwhelming list of ways to "fix things."

Yesterday I was feeling overworked and judging myself to be handling it badly. Last night and today I am tired and headachy. That is the emotional and physical reality to which I need to surrender.

Sleeping in was a surrender. Shaving my to do list for today to almost nothing is a surrender. My job, for now, is to give in.

Patience?

Yesterday I was on the bus fuming about having too much work to do in too little time. "This is not surrendering patiently," I thought. Then I started wondering what I mean by patience.

Does patience mean I don't complain? Does patience mean I don't feel distressed? (I check the dictionary.) Well, shoot, that IS what patience means: "the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like."

Honestly, that doesn't sound like me. I am tempted to wiggle out of it… To choose another word. I have chosen these promises to expand, rather than continue, who I am.

What is the kate-ish road to patience?

When I am feeling as I did yesterday, I need to take time for a break… For breathing… Maybe even put the work aside and go out of the office for a talk with myself. I carry my wise self within me, but my prideful-monster-mind is louder and faster.

Like the old advice to count to 10 before saying something unfortunate, I need to leave myself space to recognize and process the emotions moving through me.

I go forward into the next week with two assignments:

•  Continue to surrender to everything.
•  Take a 10 breath* break whenever I feel the monsters rising.

* I fear that 10 breaths will take too long. I fear that if I cut it to four, I will rush. Even aiming for 10 will be helpful.