Stability in the Storm
One of my favorite shows is a trash TV show called Below Deck. When I am at events and introduce myself and inevitably have to answer the question "what do you do?" I always prepare for people's reaction--it really can go a multitude of ways. In order to humanize myself to strangers or lesser known acquaintances , I always have my random "humanizing" fact on hand (just in case)--"I am a normal person, you don't need to apologize for cursing or explain why you do not attend church, I am not judging you. I am a people, I go home and wear comfy clothes and watch trash TV too. I love Below Deck--have you seen it?"
I bring up Below Deck because they have recently come out with a season that takes place on a mega sailboat yacht versus a normal yacht. Sometimes, in the midst of the charter, the sailboat really gets going and will suddenly tilt scarily far to the side. If the crew and staff are not prepared for that, the inside can become a disaster. Wine bottles, pots, pans, dishes, anything and everything can slide right out of place and end up all over the floor. I use this image, because that is what the last week has felt like for me, and I know a lot of other people. We heard the news, we thought we were prepared, and yet, the sailboat tilted too far--all our stuff fell out of place and ended up all over the floor of the interior.
I do not do well with these unknowns. I like all my stuff to be neatly put away in the proper places and on the proper lists with a proper outcome predicted. When the sailboat tilts too far, like it has, that no longer is an option and I am forced to find stability in the tilt, stability in the storm.
I am a person, along with many others, who thrives on stability. It is a fact I know about myself as does my fiancé. So, in the midst of the storm brewing and my sailboat's tilting--I am learning to find a way to keep some stability for myself. So many things in my life are unknown right now; things were unknown and uncertain before the current pandemic of COVID-19 and now things are even more uncertain and unknown. I, like so many others, are fielding questions with no answers, trying to navigate this new, unknown, and frightening world.
And I am still called to live my life. Yes, perhaps I need six feet between myself and others; yes, I need to stay in my house as much as possible; yes, I need to wash my hands even more than I normally do; yes, I need to do my classes online; yes, I need alter some of my normal activities. And I am still called to live my life. Life doesn't stop even though COVID-19 is running rampant. So, I am finding stability--seeking out things that ground me, center me, and bring me back to myself despite the panic, fear, unknowns, and stress.
I am doing a project for my capstone class this semester. I committed to a journey of self-care. I have committed to several self-care practices and am journaling, reflecting, and writing here on my blog about how the intentionality of caring for myself is impacting my mind, body, and spirit. I could never have predicted how life giving, stabilizing, and therapeutic these commitments would be for my--especially in the current tilt of the world we are in.
We are tilting and through my self-care practices, I am learning to lean in. One of my mantras has been, "feet to the ground." This phrase gets me outside to go for runs and even at home in my living room on a yoga mat. I am just a human--my body is not indestructible, it cannot hold all the stress and anxiety I am dealing with; my heart is not unbreakable, it cannot hold all the grief, pain, and sorrow I encounter--but the earth can. So, I pound my feet into the ground, I let the rhythm of my feet hitting the ground as I run mile after mile alleviate the stress, anxiety, and grief. I root my feet and hands into the ground as I push myself into downward facing dog--inhaling in peace and exhaling out stress. I let something stronger and sturdier than my own self hold those things. Stabilizing me.
I write out my heart in my pink journal. I bleed out my feelings in black ink on lined pages. I allow God through that journal to hold all the grief, the stress, the fear, the anxieties, the joys, the love, the gratefulness, the celebrations. It gets it out of my head and my heart--releasing it to and sharing it with a Being far stronger, far bigger, and far more able to hold it than myself.
Times are scary. The world is tilting and the figurative wine bottles, pots, pans, plates, and everything else have slid out of place. Yet, we get a choice. We can choose to topple over with it--or we can learn to lean, learn to find stability in the midst of the storm. For me and I hope for you--stability is caring for yourself in healthy and meaningful ways.
Friends, be gentle with yourselves and with one another.
Peace, joy, blessings, and all my love to you and yours,
Margaret