Moose in the Kitchen

Brains are somewhat all-encompassing in their ability to control your life. Ever notice that? How much power your brain has over you? Yes. I’ve spent years trying to force myself into action that my brain just wouldn’t get behind and you know what? It never worked. Mind over matter, indeed. I honestly used to think it was because I’m lazy. Or more fond of reading novels than of finding those bootstraps over there on the floor underneath my damp raincoat and hoisting myself up with them. (I’m probably too middle class to have bootstraps, but you take my point.) And that’s partially true – I am fond of novels and I can be lazy. But I can also be a very hard worker and get some truly amazing shit done. When my brain backs me up. So this year I’m focusing less on the bucket list and more on marshaling my brain into working with me rather than against me. HEAR THAT, BRAIN? YOUR TIME IS UP.

Challenge #1: is to remember that I’m living in this moment and I should pay attention to it, rather than jumping ahead two hours or two weeks or eight years or, most recently, to how I might die. Expiring peacefully in my sleep at the age of 103 after spending the day gardening and painting my gutters gets my vote, thanks. Which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, as I’ve never planted anything nor have I ever painted a gutter. It’s an image, I guess. Of an elderly me spry enough to make it up a ladder and down to a weed. I am good at sleeping peacefully though. If you count constant exclamations of “Don’t finish the strawberry jam!” and teeth grinding as “peaceful.” (Which I do. I’m asleep the whole time. Less peaceful for the person sleeping next to me. To which I have to say, for lack of a better solution…tough.)

In keeping with my current desire to move my limbs before they atrophy, I went to a yoga class yesterday. Determined not to miss the point, I decided to spend the class staying as focused as possible. Focused on the insanity of tucking my knees behind my arm pits without crashing forehead first into the floor, rather than on my lists and deadlines and unreturned emails and ALL THE OTHER THINGS I SHOULD BE DOING, MY GOD. About halfway through the class, I caught myself and reeled in my brain from all its time traveling and to-do list churning and centered it on what I was doing RIGHT THEN. What I was doing right then was staring at my crotch. Well, I should have been staring at my crotch, but I’m not bendy enough any more, so I was staring at the green yoga mat two inches in front of my crotch. I think I just said “crotch” more in the last three sentences than I have in the last three years of this blog. Well done. Anyway, I was staring at my green yoga mat from a crouched, bent over position, as the bearded dude with the guitar played his peaceful little guitar song and the skylight kept shifting the light of the room from dim to bright as the clouds of all this apocalyptic weather we’re having moved in the sky. And I thought, “This is really quite nice. I should do this more often.” And then I promptly forgot about it and went back to my mental lists.

But it was a moment of triumph and maybe I’ll be able to repeat it sometime. Maybe even today. You know, that’s one of the many reasons I love writing on this here blog. It’s one of the few places in my life where I’m just doing one thing. I’m not checking the clock, I’m not darting over to Twitter every three minutes, I’m not hopping up to do those three dishes in my sink that really can’t wait any longer, I’m not wondering when I can stop and do something else. I’m just writing. I’m just here. And that’s really nice.

Challenge #2: was about money, but I’ve decided to not to talk about it. Because talking about it only exacerbates it, and that’s no fun. It’s not really a lack of money – I’ve always had enough money for whatever I decide to do, even if I’m not quite sure where it’s coming from in the moment -  it’s more an attitude about money. Or really, a Pavlovian Camel reaction to those money issues that tend to crop up in our happy, capitalist society. I know Pavlov’s animal of choice was a dog, but I’m blending two theories here: Pavlov and the straw that broke the camel’s back. My usual theme when money stuff comes up is to gracefully accept anywhere from one to four unexpected expenses. In my – thankfully over – rash of parking tickets last year, I accepted the first three with resigned equanimity. The fourth parking ticket = meltdown. (I would like to note that this is an improvement. A few years ago, parking ticket #1 would have cued an epic fit of “I’m Going To Die Penniless and Soon.”) I’m going skiing this weekend and the first two unexpected emails of the “Hey, so this is going to be $xx, rather than $x” variety were fine. The third – even though it was a matter of $40 – suddenly convinced me that I couldn’t go and OH MY GOD, CHICKEN LITTLE WAS RIGHT. LOOK AT THAT SHATTERED SKY.

Did I say up there that I wasn’t going to talk about this? How quaint. How demonstrative of a charmingly naive view of my own restraint. Anyway, I’m breaking the pattern. Because I do know that I will always have enough money for what I need or the ability to get it. Besides, we’re not talking about rent here, we’re talking about my desire to strap two wooden sticks to my feet and go careening recreationally down a snowy mountain. It’s just indicative of a larger issue. The thing about patterns is that they really like being patterns. They enjoy being patterns. They’re comfortable as patterns and don’t want you to take away their friends so that they’re no longer patterns but instead on a lonely, one-way road to DYING PENNILESS AND SOON. See what we’re up against?

Sorry, pattern. You’re toast. And I’m totally going skiing.