It's funny how long it
takes us to get to a place where, instead of feeling badly about what we are
not, we feel satisfied and glad about what we are. The kinds of things we can
do.
So, when my beloved's friend died recently , I didn't have the health to make dinner or go work instead of him or do so many things.
But I could listen well, give him the space he needed, and urge him to keep his expectations under the radar, so his wise self could slowly digest this and he could feel ok enough for however long it takes.
I knew how to make him thick capsules of Valerian root to cool out his lower brain, so his emotions wouldn't run wild with his mind or organs.
I could give him a Gaba and a theanine to soothe anxiety, and a homeopathic Ignatia for smoothing the response to grief.
I could cue up a Zinn soothing meditation , get him on my table, and give him a deep massage with oil and soothing essential oils, and then send him off to bed.
Sometimes we rue not learning to do that which we have not.
Make a great income or stable stock portfolio or have excellent windows and cars and roofs. We each have a different list, that skips the stuff we've managed well, and lists out that which we missed.
Sometimes we wish we'd spent more time learning or doing some things, and less time doing others. But there is no winning this game. The odds are stacked, the deal all too sweetly imperfectly perfectly human.
No one can do everything, nearly everyone can tender obsessive self-blaming regrets if they don't look out, and often we find that in the great big balance of things, with a little common sense and perspective, we find ourselves pleased as punch with the choices we have made.
So, when my beloved's friend died recently , I didn't have the health to make dinner or go work instead of him or do so many things.
But I could listen well, give him the space he needed, and urge him to keep his expectations under the radar, so his wise self could slowly digest this and he could feel ok enough for however long it takes.
I knew how to make him thick capsules of Valerian root to cool out his lower brain, so his emotions wouldn't run wild with his mind or organs.
I could give him a Gaba and a theanine to soothe anxiety, and a homeopathic Ignatia for smoothing the response to grief.
I could cue up a Zinn soothing meditation , get him on my table, and give him a deep massage with oil and soothing essential oils, and then send him off to bed.
Sometimes we rue not learning to do that which we have not.
Make a great income or stable stock portfolio or have excellent windows and cars and roofs. We each have a different list, that skips the stuff we've managed well, and lists out that which we missed.
Sometimes we wish we'd spent more time learning or doing some things, and less time doing others. But there is no winning this game. The odds are stacked, the deal all too sweetly imperfectly perfectly human.
No one can do everything, nearly everyone can tender obsessive self-blaming regrets if they don't look out, and often we find that in the great big balance of things, with a little common sense and perspective, we find ourselves pleased as punch with the choices we have made.
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