I have a confession. I was not enthusiastic about going camping. We began doing it when G was four, and I've loved it. I grew up camping, and many of my favorite memories are of those trips. Once we arrive and settle in, it's lovely. But there is a lot of prep beforehand, especially with food. H likes to seal food well so it stays sanitary in the cooler, and we try to bring all that we need from the beginning. This year, H and I have new dietary considerations which required us to reconfigure the menu. I felt so much resistance to doing all this. And yet it was going to be camping with friends, one of the first times in years, something H has longed for. And camping is H's relaxation. It's where he rests and becomes refreshed. It's really critical for his health. G loves going. But when G came down sick, a part of me was relieved. I don't feel very friendly toward myself about that.
This
begs the perennial question: why do I resist and avoid actions that
support my well-being? I feel better when I walk daily, eat healthy, go
camping, talk with friends, make art -- but I do not do them! About the
only thing I consistently do that I know is good for me is read books.
Sometimes I even use reading as a form of escape or hiding. I did that
for years. Reading is as vital to me as breathing.
Returning
to work in the profession I abandoned 18 years ago has been
rejuvenating. I love doing it. And I don't resist it. Is it because I am
paid for it? In part, yes. There is something gratifying about
providing service that others value and recognize. But it's also because
it makes me happy to do this work. It uses my gifts. It allows me to
engage intimately with people. Even more so, I love doing this work
because I know I am good at it, and I am equipped to do it. What I
didn't grok 18 years ago at the start of the career is something I
understand now in my being: I am enough. Knowing this gives confidence,
clarity, an affirmation of what is called appropriate entitlement. And finally, I am able to do to consistently because I know other people depend on me to show up.
Doing this work with others brings me to a place or state similar to when I make art: wholly engaged, vibrant, in flow, aligned with the universe. I also engage this state when writing, though somewhat less so, because writing requires fumbling around a bit more. Reading brings me to this state as well, but not with the same presence. Reading is a form of consumption and creation, but the work is entirely internal. Hmm. I feel I am on the verge of understanding something for myself, but need to percolate a bit more.