I have 21 minutes before my first appointment of the day. An inane list of tasks flutters through my head. Some are of value, some are ridiculously unnecessary (are you really going to watch all of The Sopranos? Do you really need to download it now?). The fluttering in my brain leads to a tension in my shoulders. I can feel myself hunching over to push against the day.
There's also that grabbing in my solar plexus. Drat - I thought I had eradicated that grab; at the very least I thought I had found a successful way to manage it. Fooled myself again, didn't I?
The higher me, the saner me, the calmer me ignores all of these messages, pulls out my gorgeous sand timer (thank you, Jackie), a journal and a snazzy pen. I write. I write the above. I settle. I begin to feel grounded. I notice the tension that starts in my right hand and leads all the way up to my right shoulder, a protection for my fingers as they weaken. My brain stops fluttering, my shoulders unhunch, my solar plexus expands. I expand to the world, to the day, to my life.
Life will unfold; some I can manage, some I cannot. As the timeless prayer states, give me the wisdom to know the difference.
Wisdom. I want that. Don't you? Wisdom feels so deep, so eternal, so noble.
Noble. There's a concept that has been lost. Much maligned when used as in the word nobility. But to be noble. That's different.
These are the words I will give to my fluttering brain today. Wisdom. Noble. These are the words I will ponder today. These are the words I will attempt to live today.
When in doubt, create.