I am writing this article on an itsy bitsy, mini version of the circuitry and wiring that comprised the laptop that has served my writing needs for the past year. The HP Envy will be going to the computer hospital today, fingers and toes crossed (mine, not the computer’s, since they don’t have fingers and toes) that it will be a quick turnaround, since I am accustomed to a larger screen and keyboard. This one is configured with just about everything the original had. What I notice is that it is compelling me to slow down the typing and not allow fumbly fingers to cause errors. Kind of like the way I am living my life these days. The Universe conspired for this one to happen. As is so for many, I have come to rely on technology to keep me connected to the world, as well as to do my right livelihood work. Fortunately I have good guides to ease the process, as they hand hold me through the journey. Tech savvy, I am not, but I am learning.

Same is so with becoming more emotionally fluid. Just when I think I have some sense of equilibrium in the midst of life stuff happening, something comes to my awareness, waving its arms, yelling “Yo!  Pay attention to me.” This one is about one of my pet peeves- smoking. For years, frustration, resentment and visceral anger have risen around people engaging in an addictive practice that not only impacts on them, but everyone around them. I won’t go into all the reasons why it is a problem, since likely everyone reading this already knows the hazards and all the reasons to quit or not to start in the first place. That’s not really what this writing is about. It is about my visceral reaction and what I want to do about it.

I requested support from the Facebook collective to douse the fire that was raging out of control in my brain about it. Responses ranged from blatant agreement and testimony about how it has effected themselves and loved ones, to chastising me for not having compassion for smokers. Some encouraged using various modalities to release my attachment to the issue. I know that my getting hooked into the emotion can be just as insidiously addictive as the substance itself. 

At lunch yesterday, I was with a group of friends who gathered to honor a friend who had died the week before. She was dear to all of us. One of our friends commented about not wasting precious time engaged in activities that were not nourishing her, since life is fleeting. I nodded in agreement, since it was what had truly hit home following the heart attack a year ago. I decide, sometimes moment to moment, what I choose to do. If it something I am obligated to do, I follow through. If it, or the timing, is optional and flexible, I exercise discernment about it. How do I want to invest the time? Then it occurred to me that the same is true with emotions. Do I want to immerse myself in anger when I have a choice to tame it? Do I want disturbing emotions to take up space in my head? I’m not encouraging repression, since I have seen what happens when I have pushed feelings under water, like a beach ball. It just pops back up, quite enthusiastically. It doesn’t mean I have to embrace smoking or stay silent if people smoke in clearly marked smoke-free venues, like the wellness center where I have been going for cardiac rehab, or if folks drop the butts on the ground as if it is their ashtray. It just means that I won’t let it grind my gears. Not worth it.

Another adjacent issue arose when I received a text message this morning from the same friend who teaches a particular modality that could be of assistance in working through this conundrum. She asked why I wasn’t taking her up on her offer to engage The Work of Byron Katie in resolving what was obviously distressing me.  The way she phrased it was a loving challenge to my ego, as in ‘If it works for other people, why not you?’ My immediate thought was ‘Does she think that I think that I have it so together that I am beyond this brilliant practice, that I have actually used before?’ One of my stumbling blocks is the silly desire to impress, appearing that I have it all together and wanting to be perceived (even if it isn’t true), as the smartest person in the room. It’s why I am tempted to correct grammar and spelling errors that I see in writing on line.  I messaged her back, thanking her for her generous invitation to do the inquiry with me. I will keep you posted.

What all of this comes down to is my willingness to count every moment as precious, knowing that I have a choice to invest or squander. I need not be at the mercy of random thoughts that sometimes bind me in their cords. It really is up to me to unwind them and free myself. And I choose liberation.