– Contributed by Wee C
“Wee C is a bright student, but she does tend to be a bit chatty with the other children.”
“Wee C seems to understand the math assignments in class, but struggles on tests because she rushes to finish her work.”
“Wee C has musical talent, but we can’t seem to slow her piano playing down…she’s always rushing her notes.”
“Wee C, you’re a rock star employee. You bill more time than nearly anyone else. Keep up the great work!”
And so are the days of my life. Scratch that. Even that statement is too languid. There’s nothing low-key about me. I’m a chatter box. A busy body. I live life in a frenzy, always late, always huffing and puffing (and subsequently apologizing for the huffing and puffing). I can’t ever arrive somewhere without behaving like a tornado just rolled in, drawing as much attention to my hub bub as I possibly can. “Look at me! I’m here, I’m here (albeit tragically late)!”
Slowing down in any way is genuinely hard for me. It’s not because I’m one of those remarkable people who is contributing so much to society that the world would literally fall off its axis if they stopped. No, I’m just a chaotic spinning top that someone set in motion and inertia has simply kept me going. I bump into things, but I generally wobble back to center and keep spinning out of control for a seemingly endless period.
This sense of never having control has been one of the biggest and ongoing challenges of my life. I manage to put on a decent show (unless of course you worked with me at a certain organization, in which case my cover job sucked), but when I’m alone by myself I routinely shake my head, replay the silly and stupid things I did during the day as I rushed around, and sink into a bit whole lot of self loathing. And anyone who has ever wallowed in self-pity for an extended period of time knows that sometimes that’s a pretty comfortable place to hang out and stay. It’s predictable and the certainty of judgment (being passed by yourself, on yourself) is somehow safe. Rising above feels risky and unknown. It feels like a shiver running down your spine and makes you want to reach for the nearest blanket.
But recently, with all the life-changing that’s been happening through these 30 things, I’ve gotten brave. I’ve stopped working as much, I’ve started playing more, and I’m becoming a whole lot more comfortable in my own skin. Which is probably why tonight I was finally able to hang out, in peace and quiet, with myself. And only myself. After 11 months of saying I was going to go to the Shambhala Centre to meditate, I finally “found the time” to do it. And it was remarkable. Tear worthy, in fact. No, I didn’t cry, but I kinda wanted to. Tonight, I feel like I have reached a really important stop on my journey. Who knows if I’ll ever meditate again. But for me, it wasn’t about finding a new hobby. It was about finding peace – by myself, through myself, and for myself.
I don’t believe for a second that I have found peace permanently. I need a full rewiring and a completely new stomach (preferably made of steel) for that! But tonight I got a glimpse into what life could be like without permanently having my jaw clenched shut, my shoulders scrunched up into my ear lobes and my chest relaxed. That’s a start.