The same day I stepped out of my IT job, I twisted my angle in my own garage. It seemed highly unlikely that such small accident would keep me from walking for almost six months. When the speedy recovery wasn't happening, I had no choice but to be patient with myself. I meditated, read an insane number of books, watched baby birds hatch and take their first flights, counted lemons on the lemon tree, got good at recognizing humming birds by sound, even talked to the roses...
I jokingly called it a "retreat." When I started walking normally again, I was quite content not "doing" much, planning any project, or rushing to places. The "retreat" continues till this day.
Unlike many bestselling authors, I have no huge success or dramatic transformation to report. I now have no "status," "title" or prestige, less money and fewer possessions, and I'm still not sure of the Big P. It seems that the more I learn, the less sure I've become. My world has become less defined, with fewer straight lines, but more colors seem to be slowly emerging. The thought of not having something to "justify" my existence can be disturbing from time to time. Perhaps the most difficult thing on this journey is not knowing how I can serve.
It looks like I'm gong to be on this path for the long haul. Recently, I decided to try something that could bring me more peace and less anxiety: to make each moment or action a meaningful one. It's a small change of focus but the result has been delightful. I wonder if the Big P is made of small delights.
No comments:
Post a Comment