COVID

Getting Present!

It’s 1999, I’ve just been hit by a car as a pedestrian and left in the middle of a busy street as the car zooms off. The sirens I hear are for me. They’re never for you. This time they are.

Fast forward to August 1999, after rahabbing for six months at my parent’s house in Oakland, spending inordinate amounts of time healing my body, journaling, praying, and moving through a slew of feelings.

I decided it was time for a vision quest, with no other than Roshi Joan Halifax, of Zen Hospice in Santa Fe, NM. It was a 12-day Zen retreat, 4 of which would be spent solo on some part of a mountain with only water, no shelter and a lot of time to contemplate.

I was ready to contemplate. 
I had been giving another shot at life after being left for dead in the street. 
My biggest question was “What am I here to do?”

That is the question I sat with for 4 days. Four days in which I had prayed so much for sun, because of my fear of being rained on, that when we got so much sun, I was praying for rain. Right? 

As I chased shade moving from one rock to the next around the skinny coniferous trees, I kept asking: “What am I here to do?”

The answer? 
“Get present.”

“No really, what am I here to DO?” I asked. 
I wanted specifics. 
“Become a nurse. Or become a civil rights social worker. Or become an interpreter.”
I got, “Get present.”

That is all. 
Four days. 
Chasing shade. 
Begging for rain at the end of those 108 hours.
“Get present.”

I’ve chewed on that answer for years. I became a yoga teacher the following year. I’ve spent thousands of hours on my mat, “getting present.” But I’m a fast mover, a hummingbird, someone who flits from here to there. Erez, my former spouse, used to tell me, “You have thorns up your ass,” meaning you can never sit down. 

Yes. 
Thorns up my ass. 
Indeed.

Well, THIS year, 22 years after that retreat, I got the best inoculation of “getting present” when I got COVID in March. Though I have practiced getting present for years through yoga, dance, writing, art – being knocked on my ass, with no energy, no ability to talk, no real ability to DO anything, I got present.

really got present. 

Here at home. 
With nowhere to go. 
No, with no energy to GO anywhere. 
Nothing to do. 

I got present and my dogs sat with me. 
My garden bloomed and morphed all around me over the last six months. 
I watched it all.

I got present with what I was going through. 
The low energy. The shredded lungs, the coughing. 
I got present with gratitude, with appreciation for the love in my life. 
For my mom, my friends, the resources I have – my home, my beautiful things.

I got present with the enough-ness of it all. 
It’s enough to just be. 
Here. 
Right now.

 

 

 

I’m an Addict

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I’ve been an addict my whole life. 
I just haven’t known it.
I’m addicted to doing.
I’m addicted to writing my list and checking it off.
Addicted to getting shit done.

I’ll even tell you my little secret. 
I ADD things back ONTO my list if I did something that wasn’t noted, just so I can check it off to feel more accomplished.

 Seriously? 
But….

It makes me feel good.
It feels like I’m “accomplishing” something.
Whatever that “thing” is, I don’t know.
It’s kept me on a hamster wheel most of my life.

And yet, I can feel the prideful purr within me when people say, 
“Oh. My. God. How do you get so much done?”
“That’s right,” I semi-consciously think, “I get shit done.”
I can feel the smirk-full smile subtly spread across my lips.
“Oh, it’s just how I roll.” I casually say. 

The truth is, it’s an addiction. 
I’ve gotten high off of getting things done, only to fall into bed exhausted. 
My experience of life is that there’s not enough time. To get it all done.

Isn’t this an illusion?

I’m in the midst of a big wake-up call. Right now, as I write this.

I’m what they call a CoVID long hauler. My CoVID symptoms have lingered. They’ve slowed me way down. My lungs have required me to stop most activity. Especially talking. 

I can no longer bust through my list.
In fact, as I lie in bed at 8 or 9 in the morning these days, and watch Springtime bloom on the maple, I’ve been reflecting on how I live and how I’ve structured my days. 

It exhausts me just thinking about it.

Despite being a reflective person, most days I’m running to do more.

And now that life is opening up and the world is getting vaccinated, travel is becoming accessible, people are gathering, I see the desire within me to go out and play, connect, gather. 

Right now, I’m being strong-armed by the virus to sit tight.
Go nowhere.
Keep reflecting.
Pause.
Breathe.

I’m being asked to respond and take response-ability for how I reenter this new world order that is in the making. I can feel how it would be easy to run full force back into the whirl of activity (if only my body would allow).

We are on the brink of a new paradigm. Each of us invited to ponder what’s important for us. How do I choose to live the precious moments of my life? This is my question right now.

I need more time to watch leaves unfurl.
Time to stand patiently with my dog who’s sniffing the bushes.
Time to talk with my 93-year-old mom.

Time.
To do nothing.