white.png)
It was a frigid morning, and foggy, as I stepped out of my heated seat in my heated car. Time to get walking. I'd been walking almost daily since last March.
I thought maybe if my mind was really busy, I'd somehow remain warm. My fingers didn't get the message. I watched my breath turn to white vapor in front of me and noticed my nose had missed the same message, too.
I busily thought about the changes down south. They felt exactly like sticky Band-Aids being ripped off tender wounds. I believe the theory is that the faster the unpleasant experience is done, the less it will hurt?
That's a lie. It still hurts, but then one tends to forget about it over time. I wondered if our neighbour's current leader believes the same thing, as the flurry of changes, orders, rhetoric, and activity are ripping off Band-Aids all over the world. Whether one agrees with all of the activity going on or not, the pain is being felt by millions of people.
This post doesn't focus on our southern neighbor, however, it is about change. Specifically it's about the process of change and how we feel about it. What are my choices? I could be very grumpy about being too cold, or about my bones being stiffer. I could not go walking and lose what suppleness I have left in my body. I could move indoors and walk in the mall or sign up for a fitness class at IPF (Inner Pursuit Fitness) or the Courtenay Recreation Centre at Lewis Park. Hey, if I won the lottery, I could hire a fitness trainer. My mind busily went on and on.
If I were to win a lottery (which I wouldn't because I don't buy tickets anymore), I would love the chance to do anything I wanted. That change would be welcome because it feeds into the idea that suddenly I would be free and could make different choices. Choices that would expand the range of what I could do in the remaining years of my life, and provide a really nice leg up for our four children. So many good feelings coursed through my body and suddenly I was warm again. The warmth was real and welcomed, but the idea of winning a lottery was just wishful thinking.
Wishful thinking is dangerous. Yes, dangerous. To get to that one-cash-windfall-will-change-my-life type of wishful thinking, I would have to suspend my belief that I was capable of making powerful choices that lead to wealth in all its forms. I would need to reduce my definition of wealth to monetary form only. Then I'd obviously believe my dreams can't be achieved without enormous piles of money. What would I have to live for, then?
Now I was cold, again, but I kept on walking. Something about walking in nature is soothing and inspiring at the same time, so I began thinking about what choices I could make. Thank goodness for Mavis, the tree. She didn't speak to me this day, but I felt her love. Trees have enormous love, and give it freely. Suddenly warm again, it occurred to me that I was experiencing the ups and downs of yo-yo dieting, only this was yo-yo feeling. It felt suspiciously like the times I did buy a lottery ticket and be so full of dreams only to crash when I'd hear, "Sorry, not a winner." I'd automatically declare I was a winner anyway, and defiantly walk away.
Back then, I lacked the power of choice. Today, I choose to enjoy every minute–okay, not EVERY minute–and then feel grateful for that minute. I didn't enjoy feeling ill last week, or feeling really tired, either, but I was happy my body was signalling that I needed to slow down a bit. I'd been editing and working on the front cover of my book daily for hours over the last month. I felt grateful I listened, and took the time to rest. Cups of hot rose, Earl Grey, decaffeinated tea helped. What a pleasure to sip tea and have shortbread cookies in the afternoon.
I feel grateful for the minutes I have living in such an amazing country as Canada, but we also face decisions that may synchronize us uncomfortably more closely with our southern neighbors. I know, it's up to all of us to make powerful choices for what we believe in. Far from being helpless and feeling overwhelmed with events going on around me, I choose to stay open to what I can do. I can be true to my authentic self, care for others, write posts with a positive twist, and decide what I choose to do to with my passion for learning, writing, and visioning. I can choose to be vulnerable and open, or not.
There are millions of choices we can make to feel better while the world seems like it's exploding Band-Aids all around us. We don't need to feel helpless or overwhelmed in the minutes of our day. Really, would feeling bad help? If one needs to feel bad to be motivated to choose something positive or good, then maybe feeling bad helps, sort of. Feeling empathy for the people caught in the explosion of choices that are ripping families, friends and neighbours apart is good. Listening is good; paying attention to how we can be of service is good; caring for ourselves is good.
One choice, I believe, is crucial for living in climates or countries we don't really like or enjoy. When the iceman cometh it is incumbent on us to be aware of stress in ourselves and in others. Stress can make us sick. It can cloud our minds and hearts. Fear can lead to rash behavior and reactive decision-making.
Decide to concentrate on living with what we already have, and if we need to buy something, support local and Canadian businesses. Grow vegetables. Get yourself in the best financial situation you can. Reach out for help and look for an opportunity to assist others. Gather friends and family around you for support and turn off the TV. Delight in the small things, the joyful things. Feed your soul. Meditate. Walk in nature. Make a list of what makes you feel happy, that doesn't infringe on someone else's happiness, and keep it handy for an icy, foggy, unthinkable day.
We are being forced to think and "to confront the truth about our lives" and our countries. That's not a bad thing!
By the way, the title of this blog is also the title of a play by a famous American:
The Iceman Cometh is one of Eugene O'Neill’s most renowned plays, written in 1939 but not staged until 1946 due to its intensely bleak themes and complex characters. . . . The Iceman Cometh delves deep into the psychology of its characters, as they are forced to confront the truth about their lives.
National Park Service, Eugene O'Neill National Historic Site, California.
Comments