a little peace of mind

Posted by on Dec 20, 2012 in Blog | Comments Off on a little peace of mind

a little peace of mind

You know I can’t sleep, I can’t stop my brain
You know it’s three weeks, I’m going insane
You know I’d give you everything I’ve got
for a little peace of mind

~The Beatles

This December is chaos.  I feel my head swimming with details, desperately holding onto the things I’m afraid I’ll forget.  Trying to fall asleep at night is a drawn-out process, something completely unusual for me.  I’ve got more classes to teach, more presents to buy, more food to prepare, more things to attend to than ever before, and I’m starting to think that my ability to cope with stress, my ability to multi-task, has been compromised through lack of practice.  I’m lucky.  I have a pretty relaxed life, I only work part time and have lots of opportunity to be alone and also to tend to my family.  But it’s made me soft- when the pace picks up, I’m like the proverbial headless chicken.

I find myself dreaming about jetting off to a yoga retreat in Bali, Wanderlust in Oahu, training with Shiva in Mexico.  I catch myself in far off places all the time.  I’m struggling to remain present because the present means a bit too much.  This month has brought my new nephew, the death of a friend, and a wedding.  Life this December feels faster but also overflowing with the lessons of life.  Sometimes you just want to curl up with a good book and stop the lesson learning for a bit.  I’m waking up each morning (tired from the lack of decent sleep) and running through the lists of things that need to be accomplished for the day.  I need to be cooking and wrapping and teaching and talking and holding it together because that’s what I’ve got to do.  That’s what most of us are doing.  And some others have very difficult things to work into the folds, I know.  But I’m feeling fragile.

I’m trying to to carve out some space to breathe.  I’m juicing up all kinds of immune elixirs in high hopes of giving my organs a break from the side effects of stress.  I’m keeping up with my own yoga practice.  But most of the time I’ve got my eyes set on January.  (And beyond, on some far off warm place where restoration happens.)  I’ve got lots of work to do on being present.  When my son sat on a stage with his class and sang holiday songs for the first time yesterday, I was fully in the moment, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.  The things I had to do melted away and there was just his plump little face, his tummy poking out from beneath his shirt, his little hands forming shapes as he motioned through the songs.  But then it was over and parents were rushing out and I climbed back into the car with a swimming head.  Being present isn’t work when you’re enthralled, it’s work when you’re being put to task.

The goal I’m setting for myself for this next week is to try and train my mind to rest upon what I’m doing, no matter what it is.  My wrapping will be focus work, and when my mind wanders to what I have to prepare for dinner, I’ll bring it back.  I’m striving for mindful cooking, eating, planning, teaching, parenting, driving, socializing (sadly, people around me have only had half of my ear for some time now).

So, for now it’s this.  Tomorrow it’ll be that.  Every moment that passes sees a that become a this, and then it’s quickly a that again.  Every moment is like a little death, and unless there’s a shift to spend time in the life of it, it’s nothing but loss.  I’m looking to respect  the this-ness of Christmas a little more.

All content by Lisa Veronese. Please do not publish or copy my material without my consent.