I just felt like getting this out, and set into words what I have found the most powerful way to feel a kind of peace, for both Char and I, during this uncharted journey.
It’s not like we haven’t tried such journeys before, either literally when we were abroad together, or during great family shakeups, illness, death, unemployment …
And our age does count, I suppose, for something, when it comes to … just dealing with it all. But it’s hard to quantify.
One thing I can say, though, is that what has given me the most value here is to remember that most things only feel scarier when you try to runaway.
When you just dare to sit down and Be, then the scariness of the situation usually abates a bit, if not much.
It all depends, of course, but it’s good to remember.
Today the sun is shining, and I think I’m going to stop the house chores and just go out, but otherwise just take that walk and dare to be.
Think slowly, as I’ve exercised and recommended. Breathe deeper. Take my time.
All of those things calm me down, sure, but I’m not in a bubble of calm. I’m right here in the eye of the storm, instead of trying to get away from it. I allow myself to think of all sorts of problems and worries.
But slowly. Calmly. Formulating each feeling into words very carefully in my mind, mixing it with whatever poetic horizon I can, all the time while I keep on walking.
Like: “I dream last night I was sitting at this beach looking at the ocean, and I thought again about how it will be once we are parents. And how much or how little Char will get hurt before we are.”
And then just let that last feeling be, and try to formulate and express any thoughts that come into my mind after I have said to myself out loud what I feel.
It is as if, and this may be hard to get, that once you do this and express something, slowly, peacefully, carefully, while acting in the same way – then the concern you have felt seems to fade.
I think I’ve written about this before: That the act of courage gives the feeling of courage. And courage is about facing fear.
Whereas if you obsess too much about what new distraction you can put into your mind, then it becomes a bit like you going on and on running away on the spot, but your feet whirling up some kind of breeze that fan the flames of fear behind you. You can’t see it but it feels hotter and hotter the more you run.
Lousy metaphor, but I guess it still works.
I will endeavor to find this balance again and again.
About when to slowly confront worry and do nothing but try to keep the feeling with me until its power feels less.
And when to distract myself, because I actually do need to think of something else in order to recharge mentally.
Just up to the point when I am recharged and not secretly running away, skirting from one distraction to the next, like a stone thrown across a pond, trying to desperately keep momentum forever before sinking.
In the coming days, I will really try to be aware and work with this way of finding peace. And many years beyond.