I AM breathing, I AM staying present, I AM kind of taking care of myself, but…
I remember halfway through my senior year of college. We had been undefeated since Christmas (NDSU kicked our butts), and our basketball practices were intense, focused. I don’t remember thinking about much else other than my classes. Yes, I was a straight A student. Our practices were two hours long - we ran drills, concentrated upcoming games, and our opponents’ strengths and known weaknesses. We shot our 100 free throws, ran the lines (I HATED running lines), ran the bleachers (I HATED running the bleachers), play after play, preparing for that next game. Then that next game. Then that next game. We had a shot at the National Title. We knew it, our coach knew it, our fans knew it. We felt surrounded by a golden glow of energy, super-basketball potential energy. It was out of this world, but also stressful. We knew what was at stake, and we didn’t want to blow it. We didn’t blow it. We won the National Title in the spring of 1982. Right after the game I went into the locker room alone, put my head into my hands, and cried. I returned to the court only as they were announcing my name for All-American, and handing out the trophies. They were big. I was tired.
I have sunk into deep quiet, trying to avoid any conflict, trying to avoid unintentionally hurting anyone’s feelings, trying not to take out my current stress and crabbiness on anybody. I don’t know if I’m succeeding. But I’m interested enough to keep trying, to keep seeing this current stressful time as a perfect opportunity to go deep into my spiritual training, for it isn’t when times are easy that we build our spiritual muscle. It’s when we come up against resistance, when the weights are added to our lives, when we’re asked to go above and beyond our normal capacity. It’s not fun, it’s not what I’d want or ask for, but it DOES happen. Life happens. It’s messy and bitchy and tiring. It just is. I’m crabby right now - I admit it. I’m afraid I’m going to say something really bitchy, so I’m not saying much of anything, and when I DO talk, I’m talking very slowly and purposefully, weighing each word for its impact. I think I’m doing all right. Others might say something different. And that’s fine - they’re experiencing life right now through their own filters. I can only speak for myself. I would just totally be lying if I didn’t say I’m looking forward to calmer times.