This last month has brought a number of new subscribers to The Overalls. Welcome! I’m so glad you’re here. It’s a remarkable, touching experience to have folks sign up to read the things moving through me on my own journey as a human on this planet, in these times. It’s similarly touching to know that you’ve likely arrived here because someone else recommended this newsletter to you or shared it, and that means there was something there that connected with someone else. That, after all, is the whole point of why I write here: it reminds me that I’m not alone, that we are deeply interconnected, and that there is power in doing life together. Thank you for signing up to be in it with me in this particular form.
“Nothing lasts forever.”
“This, too, shall pass.”
“All that exists is impermanent.”
As the summer progresses here in Memphis, I’ve found myself returning to these words, sometimes uttering them as a prayer, sometimes as a blessing, and still other times as a plea.
I’ve been overwhelmed by the punishing heat we’ve been experiencing - near on two months, with few exceptions, of 105-115°F (41-46°C for the international readers) “feels like” temperatures with no rain to speak of. I’ve been caught in a repeating cycle and relationship with water. Drinking it, putting it in the ground, swimming in it, filling birdbaths with it, showering in it, being so thankful it is so (currently) ubiquitous where I am, and questioning what volume of its use by me contributes to exacerbating the very issue of why it’s so needed in the first place right now.
In June, “this too shall pass” was a mantra, a way of continuing and keeping perspective.
Today, it is a plea as I look at the forecast, read weather blogs, and sweat during the morning chore of watering the life-giving plants around me. “Please, let relief be on its way. Please, let the rain come. Please, give us wind. Please, let this heat dome move on. I beg you.”
It’s not just the heat that’s got me caught spinning like a sock in the wash cycle, though, as the long summer days pass by.
It’s not getting what I want, right in this very moment, related to desires I have to spend time with people I love. I imagined my summer would be full of quality time with two individuals in particular, and that’s simply not available to me right now. I understand why this is, but I still have the hurt, sadness, and disappointment lingering around me from my unmet expectations and the stories I’ve been generating about what this means about me, my value, my lovability.
“Things won’t always be this busy or have such conflicting commitments for them; this is a moment that will pass,” I journal.
It’s in the current plateau I feel in my own healing journey. I feel stuck and the strategies I have used thus far, while still supportive, aren’t helping me open my heart more, ground more deeply, connect more bravely and effortlessly. I find myself judging myself for not being able to somehow force my own healing and I’m clinging to “healing more” as something to be accomplished.
“We don’t heal sequentially, linearly, or all at once; this moment of inactivity is trying to support you and, when you’re ready, change will begin”, I remind myself.
I find it in how I’m questioning my work and my capacity to contribute to others; I feel lost and confused while somehow clearer and steadier than I’ve previously been. I find myself drawn to work I haven’t been before and less enthused about work I’ve previously loved. I am in a conflict of my own will, skill, and desire.
“Muddy water is still water, and when left to settle, it will. It will clear up with time”, I coach myself.
As this goes on and on in even more inquiries and areas of my life, I find that I am exhausted. I am sleeping for more hours and more deeply than I have all year, and I still wake up wanting only to do it immediately all over again.
I am also creating more pain and exhaustion for myself as my dominant inner monologue sounds so nasty, insisting that “if you were really meant to be a coach, you wouldn’t even be facing this confusion”, or “if they really loved you, they’d be with you”, or “how pathetic that you’re so understanding, when are you going to take a stand for you”, or “you’re too afraid to really live the life you want in the place you want, you’ll never have the courage to make the changes you dream of”.
My pleas, mantras, prayers, and remembrances that this is all temporary - the heat, the unmet expectations to spend time with people, the plateaus, the questioning, the explorations, even the self-derision - are all useful. They give me memories of times when this wasn’t the case and hope for the future where it won’t be the case again. They help me avoid being dragged down into the kind of hopelessness and despair that, for me, tends to include depression, anxiety, and a wishing to come to the end of my dance with life. They are very, very useful, indeed.
And, I’ve been finding them this week, in particular, insufficient. I’ve been turning to additional well being practices that I know help me, too. Things like not drinking so I know I can get even more quality sleep that my body seems to need right now. Things like exercise and eating good, nutritious, whole foods. Spending time with friends. Connecting with mentors, guides, and colleagues. Reading.
And, welcoming what’s so. Said another way, bringing equanimity (and care) to the reality of my inner reactivity right now.
“Hello, dear voice of mine that isn’t very kind”, I say to my self-derision during meditation. “I see you’re back again and need a hug.”
I remember that she’s been with me before and I can give her what she needs again so that other voices that are me, too, can arise and be heard. She’s not all of me. I remember to love her, because she’s a precious and intelligent part of me that keeps me yearning for something bigger, better, braver in myself and the world. I remember, too, that if left uncared for, she guards me and defends my heart from experiencing love.
“Hello, confusion and questioning, my wise guides”, I say to the part of me that feels lost in my coaching practice. I remember the joy that arises in true wondering, and choose to get curious about what is trying to grow in my work. I experience the excitement that comes from connecting two previously separate frameworks of my practice and the fun I have in creating new tools that combine them.
And on it goes, as I practice simply being with what’s so. Allowing. That in relaxing around whatever it is that I’ve tensed around, there is boundless space. That in allowing what is, I can invite others into my experience and feel immediately less lonely in it. That in relaxation, I can drop down into myself and into presence, and discovery can arise.
“Hello, searing heat and soupy humidity, how I missed you when I was cold and dry just a few short months ago”, I greet the weather that meets me when I step outside my door, and I remember that in just a few short months, I will luxuriate in this memory of being warmed from my toes to the crown of my head, of being surrounded by friends in a pool or lazy river, of being able to delight in the rich, verdant color that surrounds me everywhere I take care to look.
May we all greet whatever is in our lives today. May we welcome it with care and love. May we remember that change is the constant in life and that whatever we may be facing today, it will be different somehow tomorrow.