I recently heard about a study in which people chose to shock themselves rather than be alone with their thoughts. And while I recently completed a silent retreat, the prospect of being alone at a pricey blah hotel where everyone else was interacting (many in a coupley vacationy kind of way) seemed like it would lead me to that place. The space wasn't set up to do meditative zombie walks and sit silently with 90 others, the way my retreat had been. That experience made me feel like I was doing some noble act by enduring my psyche alone. Instead, it is arranged to have FUN and RELAX. This seemed daunting. And at first, it was.
My favorite self-abasing thoughts often stem from my single status, and what a great opportunity to entertain them! So much so that suddenly they hijacked my whole experience of Costa Rica. The trip was defined by how much I wished I had a partner to share that awesome sunset, or walk the terrifying dark crab gauntlet to get to the next strip over in the evening, or laugh with at falling off my surf board for the millionth time. It turned out, because I was single, I had a terrible time on my trip.
As I went to tell my journal this was so, I found myself staring blankly at the page, momentarily disinterested in indulging the pity that was eager to jump from my pen only moments before.
Instead, I dragged my single ass to the pool. I swam with a group of high school kids jumping hormonally all over one another. I played my uke under the umbrella. I threw on my gym clothes and worked out, and then jumped back in the pool and swam languidly as the sun set. Did some flips and handstands. When I got back to the room, I ate the rest of my pizza. In bed. And I liked it.
Physically shaking things up gave me some space to chose my next thoughts, and I decided to make them gratitudes. Back in the journal, I recorded the geckos falls from the ceiling, the crabs scuttling away and burying themselves in the mud, the feeling of catching a wave (even the tiniest one), the energetic solo dance performance, the hippy smoothies. I re-remembered the trip. It turned out, it didn't suck at all.
It's truly mind-boggling how powerful our thoughts are, and how they can completely shade our memories of past experiences. They say eye witness accounts are not reliable sources of data, as they were once thought to be, because people actually don't accurately remember what they saw. Every time we think back we recreate that moment in our head, and that moment is clouded by everything that had happened since then and where we are emotionally when remembering.
It was so clear today that I am not always a reliable eye witness to my own life. I came up with two versions for one very recent history, in a matter of hours. One sad and lonely, the other invigorated and beautiful. In truth, I'm sure I had the whole spectrum of emotions throughout the week, as I have witnessed on even an hourly basis today. And that's cool.
Those who are truly mindful can notice these shifts as they happen. They know to treat the darkness gently, and keep in mind that a change will inevitably come. They don't get completely lost in their own story, but see it come and, with gentle amusement, allow it its time. Then, when good humor returns, they rejoice in that too, and support it, because they know it too is fleeting.
I still find myself swept away. But it seems worth keeping up with the practice to one day have more freedom. To cuddle the scared sad thoughts kindly. To jump out of the story with intention even sooner.
Being content is hard work. Even in vacation, I do have to try. It is not my goal to be endlessly delighted by life, but certainly to cultivate more of that awe while being gentle with my grumpy self. I am grateful for this.
No comments:
Post a Comment