Still the Same

As is likely implicit if you have been reading my blog entries, I have been trying to be more present in my life lately. The hope through this endeavor is that if I am actually paying attention to the "now", to the world as it is unfolding around me, then I will cease being perpetually mentally consumed by the cacophonous nonsense that runs on a fast-forward reel in my mind. As a bonus, it might also be the case that all of this stress-inducing drivel that I create in my own head will be thwarted by that which is real.

We can only hope.

On a larger scale, the idea as I understand it is that if we are able to pay attention to the now, then all of the answers we seek will present themselves to us in one form or another. Perhaps a key to peace is to strip away all the "other" and, as a book I was recently reading indicated, accept that "whatever is, is."

So I was in Boston this past weekend, and my lovely friend Kristyn and I were at the huge Barnes and Noble store in the Prudential on Sunday morning. We were having coffee and reading books about astrology and how your sign and birthday affect who you are and why you do what you do, and so on. I do not want to speak for Kristyn, but I devour these types of books with the same enthusiasm as I do ice cream.

However, based on our history of visiting psychics together, overanalyzing ourselves and everyone in our lives, and the fact that we may have partaken in a similar book-reading activity in the past, I suspect she shares my affinity.

And I do not think we are all that unusual (at least not in this regard). There is just something very comforting about reading an assessment of your personality, characteristics, and idiosyncrasies from a third party. That the third party proposes to be an expert on tides and moons just makes it all the better—in way that is both mystical and scientific all at once.

It is just sort of nice to believe that you have no real responsibility for who you are on a base level—that there was some higher form, or combination of forms—that played the active role in shaping your particular mound of clay. Armed with that knowledge, I think it is easier to forgive yourself and to then take the responsibility to change or adapt your more challenging qualities into ones that are more evolved or appealing.

Anyway, on the way out of the store, Kristyn went to buy a few items and I wandered over to one of those display tables they line up in the middle of the aisles in what I perceive to be a highly lucrative passive-aggressive sales pitch. When I browse in bookstores, I have historically found myself attracted to fiction works focused on the complexities of dysfunctional human relationships or to biographies . . . focused on the complexities of dysfunctional human relationships. However, since I seem to be experiencing this weird public spiritual coming out party, it is probably no surprise that I was smack in front of the theology table in no time flat.

I picked up this new book, or what I assume to be a new book since it was in hard cover, and I believe it was entitled Conversations with God. Huh.

So I read the back cover, and I was amazed. Part of the blurb contained the suggestion that if you ask a question (presumably to God, but I am not quite ready for that, so let us say to the universe in general), then you will unequivocally receive an answer. The answer may be in the form of a song lyric, a conversational tidbit, a gust of wind, a particular sighting in nature.

I feel compelled to reveal that my brother has been dispensing similar advice to me for some time. He loves to find meaning in song lyrics, license plate numbers, road signs, and a whole slew of other seemingly random places. I used to fear that he would be one of those people to find the profile of Jesus in one of his protein bars and would abandon civilization in favor of some sort of Siddhartha-esque pilgrimage, and subsequently be exploited by the Oprah conglomerate.

He has not, for the record.
And now, what he had been saying to me resonated on a personal level.

Kristyn and I had been talking all weekend about the concept of “staying in the question” and the challenges inherent because of the not knowing aspect of how or when the answer would come. In the same way it was comforting to read an astrology book to learn that who you are fundamentally was shaped by the tides and moons, it is also nice to know that the answers to problems that could shape your future path might be found in the natural world and not have to be conjured forth from the depth of your wild and crazy mind.

Well, I speak for myself there. You may not have a wild and crazy mind.

Likely story.

So moving forward, I returned from this weekend in Boston, and I was feeling really overwhelmed. For one thing, it was a terrifically emotional weekend. I saw many close friends because the impetus for the trip was to attend a memorial service for the dad of one of my dear friends. For another thing, I feel so connected to many of my friends still in Massachusetts that to have to leave after such a short reconnection left me feeling somewhat off-kilter.

Then I came home to Charleston and my life suddenly felt very out of control. My husband, who has been traveling for work, found out that he will have to travel some more--making us both a bit sad and stressed out. My work and school schedule suddenly felt as though I had bit off way more than I could chew. I panicked that I would have to abandon my book and my blog because I would not have time for these “hobbies” anymore.

I felt like life was happening to me and I had no control or say. Talk about repeating an old pattern.

So I went to bed and asked the universe to tell me why I was feeling so overwhelmed and stressed out. Well ask and ye shall receive people.

At 3:30 in the morning, Craig’s alarm clock inexplicably went off (it was set for 5:30). I have to interject myself here and say that thank goodness he sets it to the radio as opposed to that discombobulating beeping noise that makes you want to shoot yourself in the foot. Anyway, the song playing was Bob Seger’s, Still the Same.

Now I do not know if you know anything about me and my history with Bob Seger, but I love the guy. Because he has unwittingly seen me through many of life's pivotal moments, I trust him. And now you might think, “Isn’t that song about a gambler who cannot seem to change his/her wily ways?” Well yes, that is my interpretation also. So how does that have to do with me or the answer to my question?

Here is how: I am still the same. I may know now that I have to change my ways of thinking, of being in the world. I may cognitively understand as fact that to be present is a way to quiet my mind and achieve some peace. Yet, imagine what it must take to undo years and years of listening to the reel in my mind. A few months or weeks or years of trying to change may not be enough. So why am I still overwhelmed and stressed by life in general? Because, as hard as I am working to change my patterns, I have not gotten there yet. I am still the same.

You may now officially declare me bonkers. But just know that if my brother and I pass you on the trails during our inevitable trip to Machu Picchu, then I will call you out on your judgment.