What follows this paragraph are musings of my mind. I cannot say or pretend that I know. This is not a show of expertise (when you think about expertise, you have to wonder what that word even means in relation to the context of living an imperfect, always learning, never really knowing everything or much of anything kind of life), I am simply surrendering to the flow of thought as I write. I have no idea where this flow actually comes from or where it will take me. Does it originate from society, my DNA, my brain, my mind, my body, my soul, or some other source. I have no idea.
I want to speak to the idea of more or less. Why is it that sometimes less is more and other times more is more and less is less? I swear, I haven't gotten into the pot gummies today. It's something I think about at times because we all need to effort, to work at it, to do more sometimes to get anywhere. We all bump up against the unfamiliar, awkward, bumbling, everthing-feels-hard-and-dumb stage when starting something new.
With practice ease surfaces and then we are on to the next challenge. It might not feel quite as bumbling, but it is still hard and effortful. How do we know how much effort, how much ease, when to push and when to soften, when to tap into grit and when to surrender, when to fight for it and when to pack it up and walk away? I think context plays a big part in teasing apart these choices so we can figure out what to do.
Pain is part of the context of life and choice. It's something we are all bound to experience and something we are programmed to move away from, be it physical, mental, or emotional. But is it more or less to move away from pain? And should we move away from it or move toward it? Should we cry or laugh at it? Should we be open about it or hide it away from sight?
For some people it might feel painful to do more, to ask something different from their bodies, minds, emotions. For others it seems painful to do less, to get quiet, to listen, to move softly, slowly. And I think everyone has moments where context makes more painful and less painful.
As a teacher, I seem to attract so many lovely doers. I love you, you know. I love your courage, your adventure, your deep-seated doer-isms (not a word by the way or is it?). You've done well because you've made the effort, you've done more, maybe more than you've been asked to do, more than expected.
So if you excel by doing more, why should you ever do less? Maybe because you are dog tired? Maybe because your wheels have turned so fast that you don't even know what the best part of the days was? Maybe because all of your doer-isms have caused you pain in some part of yourself? Maybe because every cell in your body is asking you to take a breath, to stop running, stop making things perfect or better for everyone else?
What if when we perceive ourselves doing less, we are actually doing more? What if each cell that contains your doer-ism DNA finally has a chance to anchor into their own doing because they have the space and energy reserves to do whatever they need to do?
What would doing less to allow your body to do more feel like? Where would you experience less is more in your body? What would your thoughts be? How would you breathe? How would your emotions feel? Would you have that big cry that you've been holding in by doing more, more, more? Would you have a big, fat angry moment? Would you scream at the top of your lungs, thrash in a temper tantrum rage on the floor? Would you feel lighter? Freer? Heavier? Would your heart feel more open, more spacious, more centered? Would you laugh at the ridiculousness of these thoughts, this process, at your doer-isms?
I have no clue. What I know is that I'm going to be tuning into my own doer-isms. Some I will keep, some I will toss out, some I will have a good laugh about, and some may make me weep with regret or relief. I think this paying attention, this musing, this opening of one's eyes to look around, to expand, is what I would call living. Living that includes and can be separate from doing. Because no matter if you do more or you do less, doing is not the same as living.
Think about that. Doing is not the same as living. It might be a part of living, but I do not believe that it is the whole of living. You might say...what does that mean? You might say, she has definitely gotten into the pot gummies (I did not, I'm totally out right now). You might give it a good think and decide for yourself what that means for you.
Thank you for reading my thought seed. I hope I have planted something useful in your minds and hearts.
Sending love from my mat to yours.
See you on. the other side.
Namaste,
Kathryn
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