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Compassion and Busyness


     Visiting my sister’s house is always a dive into another world. A world where time is not a rule but a guideline, where busyness is sometimes there, but comes with equal measures of peace and silliness. This weekend, staying there, I spent much needed time outside under trees, birds, and butterflies. I walked with my dad, spent time playing with my niece and nephew, and took the time to read and reflect that I had not done for some time. While reading Mindful magazine, I was particularly struck by an article on being addicted to being busy. And there I was- reflected right there in those words. “The busier we keep ourselves, the more we avoid being confronted with questions of life and death… We keep a safe and comfortable distance to the issues that are sometimes hard to look at…” And most importantly, the conclusion: “Busyness is a choice. We may have deadlines, projects, and activities, but we have the freedom to choose whether we become action addicts and busy-lazy, or just observe the experience of many activities.” Ahhh… and therein lies a choice (dependent on a clear mind). I have been overwhelmed by these 10 weeks of work, digging myself into thought and action patterns I would have been ashamed of merely a few months ago (example: I know I’m supposed to get a thirty-minute lunch, but I really just don’t have time). I do have a lot of work, that is true. I am learning how to do my work more efficiently, that is also true. But “I am busy;” that is a choice I am making in my head. It is a choice I am making to run around during the day and shut my mind off at night. It is a choice I am making to jump from one task to the other with little planning or compassion. It is a choice I am making to say yes to everyone, without a healthy bit of no. A simple example: when my caseload of evaluations is above 5, I should communicate so that others may pick up the extra, if possible. My evaluation load reached 8 before I even thought to let anyone know. And therein lies my choice. I could have communicated earlier, but I did not, feeling it was my responsibility to take on all that work and to bear it without saying a word. “Balance is not a tension-less state,” said a wonderful old acquaintance and old soul (Peter Prato, where are you? What are you doing?). I am still learning the important lesson of understanding when I’ve bent too far toward one side and need to balance out a bit more. This is not easy, but achieving balance never is.

    I also had the wonderful opportunity to spend time with a great teacher, Bella, my sister’s dog. Bella used to be a puppy- running circles around us and leading us with her own leash on lengthy walks. She is old now, with gray far ringing her eyes, ears, and throat, glittering in her tail. She has trouble breathing. She cannot walk very far or for very long without getting very tired. I recognize Bella’s time with us might be short. For someone who struggles with existential questions about life and death, this was processed with great poignancy. I sat with her this evening for a few minutes, and gently stroked her head and neck, with each stroke saying a very loving, “You are good. You are kind.” Over and over. A little mantra of kindness. Of course animals understand the love we give them, and I believe Bella felt mine. I also felt the gravitas of what I was giving her, compassion, and recognized I had not been doing this for myself. I like to give freely, but I am not so loving toward myself. The love I was giving Bella, the soft words of affection, respect, and recognition, are the words I so deeply crave myself. All the nicks and scratches I receive or give myself throughout the day require some wax and polish to return myself to condition. It’s wonderful to get these from others, but I, at the very least, deserve them from myself. Thanks, Bella. I love you.


Note: 2 days after writing this, Bella passed away. She was 12 years old and died in the arms of her human mother. Miss you, sweet baby bell <3


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