Part 2 - Mind, Body, Spirit
“I now see that cultivating a wholehearted life is not like trying to reach a destination.
It’s like walking toward a star in the sky.
We never really arrive, but we certainly know we are headed in the right direction. ”
A new notebook and a great pen are about as good as one session of therapy. The blank pages would become my field guide for recovery. I felt optimistic with my instruments in my hands. I felt like I might see Hope.
I skip the first page of every new notebook; a quirky ritual. Maybe a quote or a word or an idea will emerge but we don't know yet what will fill these pages. It is unwritten so I don’t jinx it by writing on the front page. Opportunity exists here on this blank canvas. So I turned the page and wrote down for the first time a new mantra: Mind, Body, Spirit. All of me was on the table. I promised myself I would take these next few months to return to me.
During the brief hours when Eli was at school three days I week, I was devoted to my recovery. I tried not to judge what was possible on any given day. Anxiety and Sadness and Loneliness would follow me into the kitchen while I made the morning coffee. “Hey guys,” I would say gently. “I see you. I know you are here. But I’m looking for Hope,” I’d remind them, and me, of my intention. Then, I would go to my notepad and write the mantra down: Mind, Body, Spirit. My emotional life felt out of my control but I could see a space for some choices inside my Mind, Body, Spirit mantra.
Sometimes this meant nothing more than reading a book for an hour. Other times it meant re-reading what I already read the day before because somehow I’d already lost it. Sometimes I would lay in child’s pose until I could simply breath. Other days I would lift weights in my garage. Sometimes, I would pray out loud, beg God for mercy. Other days, I simply wept in Her presence.
In the process, each day’s movements and decisions and tasks began to take on meaning. My bath wasn’t just for bathing; it was for relaxing my body and warming my spirit and creating quiet space for my mind. Walking the dogs while Eli rode his bike wasn’t just for their exercise and his; it was a chance to move my body, connect with Mother Nature and share space with my son. Folding the laundry wasn’t just a chore my family needed me to do; it became a rhythm for my hands, an opening for my mind to absorb one of Elizabeth Gilbert or Krista Tippet’s podcasts and an opportunity to feel grateful for our abundance.
I gave myself permission to infuse meaning into the mundane. This didn’t always make me happy or relieve my sadness but it made me purposeful. A nap counted: my body needs sleep. Sitting outside counted: my body needed Vitamin D. Small but significant gifts of self-care in the middle of a life that wasn’t slowing down for me.
However the Creator determined to designe Life, She obviously knew some laundry was going to have to get done. Kathleen Norris refers to our routines of domestic life as “the sanctity of the everyday.” Could this too be holy and meaningful work?