Oracle ✥ Artist ✥ Author ✥ Time Traveler

Being More, Doing Less

The better to see you with, my dear!

[This post was written for Facebook in 2014 when I was getting ready for brain surgery. I’m finally catching up now.]

Couldn’t sleep last night, a rarity for me. My eyes hurt and kept me awake until at least 2am. More specifically, the muscles behind and around my eyes. Ow. So much pain! And I couldn’t remember which pain reliever is good for eye muscle pain, because who has eye muscle pain?

So I lay there, trying to find a position where my eyes hurt less, imagining that my next Facebook status update would be “I am blind”. I imagined learning how to use the VoiceOver function (it’s a real thing, I looked) on my iPhone so it could read things to me. I imagined slowly navigating the steps down to our favorite beach so I could hear the ocean. I imagined learning to feel life instead of seeing it.
I wondered how much of life I push away because I don’t let myself fully feel it. I imagined how rich and wonderful life could be, even if I couldn’t see, because I’d be feeling it so much more.
I didn’t feel sad or afraid, but acknowledged that if I ever did become blind I’d probably feel both, and angry too for awhile. I thought about making art that I would never see. How much easier to set a creation free into the world if you can’t see it!
It’s kind of a snuggly day here. We’re going to a party later. My beloved is cutting potatoes for our potluck offering. The sun is going down. It feels very quiet.
I think my late-night blindness imaginings were a metaphor. I’m pleased with myself at the direction my thoughts went: accepting, embracing, looking for the gold. My thoughts mirrored my experience in Brain Tumor Land these past two months, where I am being more and doing less.
I grew up amid a family of achievers. Or, more correctly, a family of wannabe achievers. My father was a physicist. We were intellectual snobs. I grew up thinking that if I worked hard and played by the rules I would do well. So I worked (kind of) hard and (mostly) played by the rules, and every year I got farther away from feeling because I was so intent on doing.
That’s how these brain tumors have been a huge blessing. I’m letting go of the doing thing. I’ve stopped (mostly) shaming myself for not doing enough. I’ve begun to self-congratulate when I allow myself to remain in a state of being. I’m doing less and being more. I tell myself that it’s a good thing.
The flip side of that last is when I do less, my beloved has to do more. Sadface. I adore that man.
For years, my holiday season was all about doing. Shopping, wrapping, decorating, baking, cooking. Managing the experience for four kids and a man. I made magic! And I loved being the one who made the magic.
This year I look for magic in other places. Unexpected places: the way the sun lights the waves towards sunset, the warmth of a wee prickly kitty on my lap, the taste of freshly squeezed orange juice. The more I look, the more magic I find.
Tonight I feel joy in the air, and gleeful expectation.
My wish for you is that wherever you are, whomever you are with, that you may experience at least a glimmer of magic, or a moment of true peace. You are loved.
Much love, as always.

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