“In these bodies we live and in these bodies we will die
Where you invest your love, you invest your life” — Mumford & Sons
Such a simple concept, yes? Hard to argue, pointless to debate – and yet. There is no doubt that I have exhausted this body with thoughts and actions and feelings that had little to do with love. There are years when I succumbed to the pressure of living to work, displaying outrageous disconnection between value and true purpose. I don’t think I’m unique. I think we remember what is in front of us in the moment.
It’s been a challenge to get the karma truck in gear over these last few weeks, and I’m not sure why. Feeling that perhaps my thoughts are becoming trite and overdone like a delicate Jenga edifice of clichés. And this morning something clicked, the starter turned over. Back on the road.
I had a particularly challenging consulting project that is now over. The participants were awesome, the conversation engaging. The untenable weight was a result of the politics behind the engagement and I agitated beyond anything remotely sensible. The details don’t matter – the phenomenal emotional toll that was exacted each time I received vitriolic emails and disparaging comments from the company that had arranged this program – was far more than I should ever have permitted. The client was thrilled with me and I was happy with the terrific group with whom I spent many hours. And that’s where I should have been able to insert a full stop. It’s like trying to separate egg yolks and whites – it takes practice. I still conflate the relevant and irrelevant; arguably giving way too much attention to the latter.
With the luxury of time, I watch people around me as they approach the tender reality of savoring what really matters. There is the obvious – our families and friends, a firefly playing hide-and-seek before becoming invisible in the daylight, a newborn fawn nursing vigorously and then falling over his/her legs in an initial attempt at play. Finding the delight in every story told to me, by people I may never see again, and others who I will know forever. Holding on to curiosity and expanding the vista to include more and more and more. I’m not ready to narrow the perspective – this body has room to breathe and absorb and take in and wonder. This body has room to rest and rejoice, listen and learn, commit and walk away and commit again.
Such simple, unassailable truths – yet coming to this post, I was close to breathing into a paper bag. The anxiety of insecurity, the constant questioning of whether or not I’m getting this right. It’s done. It’s written, and I’m on the road again. With time however, to renew.
Waiting for the Karma Truck 