Sitting in my chair by the window this morning, I put down my book and looked up. Tilting my head and squinting slightly, I listened closely.
It was light out and the world was awake but, still, I knew I wouldn't hear it. Shifting in my seat, I crossed my left foot over my right and waited.
Nothing...
Wow.
My lips twitched slightly, smirking at the confirmation.
In my head, I thought about the years I'd spent terrified of living a boring life. Even though I'd vehemently dreaded that possibility, I'd have given anything to live a quiet one. I remember that used to really bum me out. I thought things would be simpler if I could just be someone who was ok with boring.
I glanced down, tracing the blue edges of the pattern in the rug. Eventually, I felt my eyes settle on the lampshade across the room (though I wasn't really looking at it so much as near it). The mistake I'd made back then was assuming boring and quiet were one in the same. I'd been focusing on ways to dull the noise. All that did was block the chaos without changing anything.
As I looked around my office, at Ava sleeping on the floor next to me with her paws tucked-up under her, I realized I got what I wanted. And so I tried to sit with it and name the feeling instead of rushing to the next thought, and then to the one after that. It's hard. At least, for me it is...
That's something I'm working on.
Do you ever identify the singular emotions contributing to the feelings you form? I'm still using the emotional literacy wheel I wrote about a while back and it's been really helpful.
If you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along. And if something stuck with you while reading, I'd love to know what it was.
onward.
For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory here.