Picture This...

January is many things to me.

January is re-entry. A rapid and turbulent descent from the light, airiness of Christmas break as gravity pulls us back to reality. January is splash down into our all of our school-year routines. For us, January is lots of swim meets…NINE total after this coming Saturday, five of which I was largely responsible for. That’s every year. This year, January has also been lots of running…which has been fantastic. And lots of emotional self-exploration…which I’ll call meaningful, if not always comfortable. And this January has seen its share of personal anxiety which has not caused me to BURN ALL UP AND OUT as I re-enter the atmosphere probably because of the running and emotional self-care.

This January has been about observing what’s going on around me…looking at the people, ideas, obligations, and “stuff” with whom/which I am sharing interconnected orbits. I am trying to do this without judgement. Which, incidentally, I judge myself to suck at. 

Completely.

January has been zero 30 day challenges. Just holding on to what was good from the previous four has turned out to be challenge enough. I am slowly rising to meet it.

January has been giving myself permission to coast or float when possible and permission to just be enough – rather than a superhero -- when the former seems impossible. I’m sure this has caused consternation on the part of some, but they have not shared it with me. Or they have shared it with me but I have blissfully forgotten it as I float away.

I’m coming out of January with some newness about me. Not the temporary newness that results from rigid New Years’ resolutions or even the physical vitality that results from consistent, rigorous exercise. This newness feels more like a gentle wind of transformation. I have new eyes and there is a new light around me that causes things which I know rationally have not changed, to appear different...more authentic…less plastic. Conversely, it has made things that once seemed real and desirable – tangibles toward which I have been navigating a footpath – to acquire a greyness or transparency that have caused me to question not only their importance, but their very existence.

If that’s too abstract, think of it this way. You have a picture. Maybe it’s a beautiful 8x10 of your family or a 24x30 painting by your favorite artist. Or maybe it’s something that you don’t find particularly appealing…a painting of Elvis on a blue velvet canvas or latch-hook tapestry of a white Tiger with Siegfried and Roy draped casually beside it. No matter what it might be, you can alter how it appears to you by putting on glasses (or removing them), changing the light in which you view it, or by putting it inside a frame (or removing one that detracts from it). It may not be better or worse when you are through, but it will be different.

I read an article this morning that really reframed a particular concept for me and it was pretty profound. It was a Mental Floss article about Scott Kelly’s experience on the Space Station.

I spend a lot of time (too much) considering my own weight...the relationship between by body and the earth…the measurement of my own gravitational pull. Somehow, the force with which the planet pulls me toward it is of some concern to me. I can’t imagine why <insert still-yet-to-be-invented punctuation to convey sarcasm>. Maybe you struggle with this too?  I have often thought that the absolute best thing about being in outer space would be experiencing weightlessness. It’s a place where we all (sort of) weigh the same.

One thing I do appreciate about myself -- and spend almost zero minutes a day thinking about -- is the ease with which I fall asleep and stay asleep. Despite the relatively little consideration I give it, sleep is one of my greatest joys in life and I excel at it. If I could market sleeping as a skill and monetize it, I would be a gazillionaire. Well…according the Scott Kelly, sleeping isn’t so easy in space because on the International Space Station you are always kind of in the same position and there is nothing to rest into. No mattress to cradle my tired body. No pillow to simultaneously embrace my skull and support my neck. No floor to support a bed. Nothing to create the sense of connectedness to the ground. For me, none of the things that make sleep and the ability to sink down and let go of the day possible. So while I would feel light and airy during the day, I would lose one of my greatest joys in an environment of weightlessness.

Suddenly my connectedness to the Earth doesn’t seem like such a burden and the measurement of the force of that connectedness seems pretty unimportant in the grand scheme of things. It doesn’t change my opinion on the importance of striving for good health – eating real food, challenging my body physically, caring for my mind and spirit – but it does change the level of importance I place on arbitrary measurements of good health. 

Didn’t really change the picture, only changed

my eyes, which now see sleep through a lens of gratitude,

the light, which radiates a soft glow of permission, 

and 

the frame, which is constructed out of some weathered wisdom rather than gilded expectation.