It's snowing. A very late Indian summer is officially over. Hanging out with my three willows, feeling the abundance of stillness, I suddenly felt the stab of guilt. Of course I should be working. I have debt to deal with. Private school fees to save for. All that.
But then I felt that sense of paradox that I so often do when I'm standing. Things were so good this morning in our home. Peaceful, playful, everything moving smoothly towards Ben getting off to school. I could feel the consequences of regularly tending to my peace of mind. So it hit me in the park. However rushed, however stressed I am--this is my job. It is my job to plant this field of peace at the beginning of my day. It is my job to nurture the inevitable creativity and physical, mental and spiritual energy this time supplies me with. It's my job to cultivate this and to pass on the skills of this cultivation to my son and to my readers. This is my job and I have deep faith in its rewards and its renumerations.
Showing posts with label my job. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my job. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
stand, sleep, write
So I'm more and more convinced that when my brain, gut-brain, heart brain, and whatever brains there are in my body are opening up that I'm getting a rush of oxytocin. And this oxytocin rush is helping me to learn new healthier behaviours. And more importantly, helping me to forget old ones.
I''m still struggling to find the best way to express this. I see a year, like Liz Gilbert, but without the advance. Doing the three things I need to do to make a good life for myself. One: stand. It's still a challenge and Ben is now developing the habit of getting up early. So my meditation hour is being disrupted. But fine, then, little one. You can go to bed a little earlier tonight to make up for that. No way though, that doesn't make sense that he would start a habit of rising that early.
The next thing is sleep. I look into the effects of getting to bed early, giving up the T.V. feeling the advantages of regular sleep. I felt the advantages of them last night. Woke up with some dumb grievance on my mind about a blog I had read. Decided to stand and tap into the oxytocin, did a bit of self-hypnosis to get myself tired again, and within about half an hour I was fast asleep again.
And the next stage would be to write. How does writing change our lives, our culture, our brain. How does writing change our brain. What is the current theory behind writing, according to that French guy and the global workspace theorists. How can we change our brain to make us better writers. How can good writing make us more empathetic and a better community?
My job is to explore that. But also, how can writing change our heart, our lives?
I''m still struggling to find the best way to express this. I see a year, like Liz Gilbert, but without the advance. Doing the three things I need to do to make a good life for myself. One: stand. It's still a challenge and Ben is now developing the habit of getting up early. So my meditation hour is being disrupted. But fine, then, little one. You can go to bed a little earlier tonight to make up for that. No way though, that doesn't make sense that he would start a habit of rising that early.
The next thing is sleep. I look into the effects of getting to bed early, giving up the T.V. feeling the advantages of regular sleep. I felt the advantages of them last night. Woke up with some dumb grievance on my mind about a blog I had read. Decided to stand and tap into the oxytocin, did a bit of self-hypnosis to get myself tired again, and within about half an hour I was fast asleep again.
And the next stage would be to write. How does writing change our lives, our culture, our brain. How does writing change our brain. What is the current theory behind writing, according to that French guy and the global workspace theorists. How can we change our brain to make us better writers. How can good writing make us more empathetic and a better community?
My job is to explore that. But also, how can writing change our heart, our lives?
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