Here’s a sorry, ironic truth about the summer of 2011 for a couple of quirky, well-intentioned Central Pennsylvanians: Trond and I have worked ourselves into a pair of royal swivets publishing a book about the critical importance of people becoming calm and collected enough to make a significant difference in the world. I am not a little ashamed of myself that it has come to this.
I’m sure there’s a lesson here. And I think the Chinese acupuncturist we sought out to administer treatment for our ailing beings was onto a simple one the other day. Trond and I were lying side by side (and sunny side up) on tables in Batbayar’s office—as if for couples massage, I thought. Trond, who is less inclined to bodywork but was in enough (back) pain to accede this time, had couples’ biers in mind. “It’s as if we both died at once,” he said, as he sweetly hopes we will.
“You know about yoga and meditation, don’t you?” Our acupuncturist asked me out of the blue. (I haven’t a clue how he knew, but I do know, of course.) “Practice what you preach,” he added matter-of-factly, as he stuck another of his magical hair-thin needles into my third eye.
Yep, Batman, you’re onto me; it’s decidedly time to reassess, regroup and rearrange my life so I can feel a tad more authentic when the words in Bare Naked at the Reality Dance start rolling off the presses. (Okay, it’s a print-on-demand book with no presses involved, but you know what I’m saying.) I don’t need to try to be perfect (a hopeless intent anyway). But the world is always a better place when I practice the supreme self-care that the book I wrote teaches.
This week I’ve made significant progress in that direction. No, the irritable bowel syndrome that settled in a few weeks ago isn’t gone. And rather than stopping to rest, I ran around like the Madwoman of Chaillot preparing for a trip. But I also took significant steps to back away from the situations that had wreaked havoc on my body, mind and spirit. I slowed the book project down. Most critically, I screwed up the courage to tell a key book production team member that I could no longer work with her. And I hadn’t a clue how I’d manage without her skill set.
It wasn’t easy or in the least comfortable to do that, and I felt badly for her. But I remembered (as she, too, wisely acknowledged) that relationship is a two way street, and if one person isn’t totally satisfied, it’s no good for the other one either. So I drove another nail into the coffin of what used to be a more deadly case of co-dependence, even as I liberated myself from frustration and resentment that was making me—and according to Batbayar, my spleen—sick. A great sigh went up from my body-being as I hit Send on the “it’s all over” email and realized I don’t have to do this anymore.
I don’t have to do anything with anyone who doesn’t feel altogether right just to get the book launched in a hurry. No. I can wait till the exact right person to help with next steps comes along. That is my right and my responsibility. Anything less, I’m being untrue to myself and the book.
Wouldn’t you know it, the very next day that exact right person showed up in a way that took my breath away. The proof was in the pudding a day later when I was back on the acupuncture table. Batbayar checked my nine pulses as usual and, only because I asked what he felt, he had this to say in his calm, matter-of-fact tone: “Your spleen is stronger, Suzanne.” More soon about how the miracle of letting go of what doesn’t work makes room for the universe to offer us what does.
Categories: Inspiration, Self-Care