I think and think
then close my eyes again.
This year I hope
I truly learn
to fly – kick
not to kick anyone
so much as
to fly.
- Inside Out and Back Again, Thanhha Lai
Oh dear, I’ve
been away for an awfully longtime, haven’t I? Or perhaps you hadn’t noticed.
Perhaps, like my kids, who simply continued as normal playing after I slipped
out for a dentist appointment – and then when I returned home, they hadn’t even
realized I’d left.
But now, I’m
here, on the other side of the crazy fall semester, on the other side of a busy
soccer season. My students (and me!) survived the hectic and emotional Napa
fires. I’m here on the other side of the Christmas festivities: all gifts
given, all events attended, all food eaten, all worries assuaged.
So now it’s
the day before the new year, we started packing up the Christmas decorating and
purging the house, we have been tackling the laundry and tending to the yard
and 2017 is rapidly coming to a screeching halt. As I’ve mentioned in the past,
I’m big on dates and anniversaries. I’m reflective and nostalgic. I am goal
orientated by nature, so for me reflecting on the past year and crafting SMART
goals for the upcoming year is just part of my nature. This past week as we
drove and crisscrossed the state J and I wrote out financial goals, decided a
list of books to read out loud as a family, and novels we personally want to
tackle. We made professional goals and sketched out a list of household
projects to attempt.
But these
past few weeks as I ran through the holidays and the end of the semester
craziness, I realized that I will forever remember 2017 as the year I learned
about the necessity of self-care. Perhaps it was because of the demanding
training for the Boston Marathon. Perhaps it was because I just kept burying
grief and sadness and discomfort instead of honoring it. Perhaps it was the
seven demanding years of constantly being pregnant or nursing. Prior to this
year, I was always focused on goals, achievements and meeting the excessive
expectations I had on myself. My high tolerance for discomfort meant I juggled
all the balls I had in the air – but I knew that I was sacrificing my health
and my attitude.
And
through this year, I got to know myself better and know what I needed – not just
to function, but to flourish. I started a gratitude journal. I learned that a
cup of steaming tea and a good book actually makes for a more productive
afternoon. I prioritized sleep and I started and ended each day with a giant
glass of water. I learned to punctuate each day with a minute of awareness. I
learned to focus my attention on my feelings and sensations and to be lean in
with whatever those feelings were. I learned that it was okay for me to be
selfish. I learned that it was okay to do something just
because it made me happy. I practiced deliberately taking a break from
technology. I practiced yoga and got massages. I learned to breath. I focused
on lowering my own personal expectations.
I once
read an interview about a professional acrobat. She shared bits of wisdom she
founded nestled into her practice, but one stood out, “What fascinates me about
acrobatics is that you start thinking in a different way. You’re not only
thinking with your head – your body also remembers things. You can reach a
mental state that you could never reach if you were just sitting on a chair.
Movement is simply another level of thinking. Actually, when you perform
super-complicated acrobatic movements, it’s dangerous to think. Usually it’s when you think it goes wrong.”
And there’s
so much truth here, I think. There’s something to be said about the flow of
life – the routine and the mundane and the ease of familiarity – that,
sometimes, we over-think. The mind is a powerful tool, and this year, I want to
learn that sometimes, it’s okay to put it on the shelf for a bit, hanging
between the hammer of schedules and power saw of theory and – instead – move around
a bit, pressing forward to another day. It’s a comforting idea, but a
challenging task, choosing the scenic route over the fast track, learning to
trust my own intuition and so my goals for 2018 include a few slower mornings
and an appreciation for what surrounds me. Learning to trust and not to think.