Floating

I had a phone conversation recently with a close family member. She had been in good spirits lately, but when she answered the phone this time, I immediately sensed her mood, and it was very heavy and dark. There was polite conversation for a few moments, and when we hung up, a major realization dawned on me.

I did not want to fix her bad mood. This may not sound like much, but friends, this is HUGE. I grew up playing the role of the peacemaker in my home. As the result, I often take other people's bad moods personally- there is an overwhelming desire to fix things for them.

It goes against what I have come to know in recent years- that everyone's happiness is a choice. That knowledge, however, was not enough to keep me from resisting the desire to jump into someone else's business and try to make them happy. Until this phone call, that is.

I get it, really get it, that it is her choice to be happy or unhappy. She has everything she needs within her to manifest anything we call good or bad. I was reminded of how many times in my own life I choose to be unhappy. It has absolutely nothing to do with the people I'm with or situations I'm in- it's a choice. Every single time. I also get it that there is power in choosing to feel that unhappiness, to sit with the negativity instead of numbing oneself to it.

There was another conversation this week with a dear friend, in which something I mentioned (after checking in with myself to be certain my intention was loving) caused her to feel some major guilt. (Rather, she chose her default response of guilt in response to my words.) I came so close to then feeling guilty myself, but as if life was in slow-motion, I stopped myself mid-air and came back down into my own business.

There is first the knowledge that I cannot fix anyone, then the deeper truth that no one needs to be fixed.

I was meditating/daydreaming recently and I asked the Universe for some answers about my family. I was shown a sort of "mind movie" in which all of my family members were on a boat in the ocean. The boat capsized, and we were all flung into the cold waves. Almost immediately, my older sister was scooped up onto another boat with her husband, his family, and their two children. My father, too, climbed onto a boat with his new wife. Eventually as time passed, my brother found his boat. My mother, grandmother, and I were left in the water, separated by the currents. At first, there was this panicked need to get everyone back into the original boat. But then I saw that they had made new lives, better lives, for themselves. For a long time, it felt as if I was drowning. Finally I let go and sank beneath the water. To my surprise, God's hand reached down to hold me up, and I floated.

*****************************************************

There is laundry to be done, a shower that needs a good scrubbing, bills to pay, gifts to unpack. The floors need to be mopped and vacuumed. Come to think of it, my car could use some vacuuming itself. My bedroom floor is cluttered to the max (such that late-night bathroom runs have become dangerous missions).

Ah, but then, there is this. This being me cocooned in my blanket on the couch, my hair deep-conditioned, my legs just shaved, breathing deeper than I have in a while. There are episodes of Planet Earth and The Office on the DVR, and marathon phone conversations to be had with Tara in which we debate whether or not a trip to the rainforest should be added to our life lists. (She continues to point out the immense population of exotic insects and the effects of humidity on her hair; the latter is one of my reasons for wanting to book a trip.) There is also the feeling that my mind has finally given in to relaxation and the wheels are slowing down. I am quite sure that if I lit a single candle and became still, I would fall into a deep, blissful meditation.

This wins.