Dispatch from a Dust Mote
On seeking perspective
What I gleaned from my birthday eve visit to the Planetarium last month:
Earth is basically a teeny little jot in a galaxy among galaxies. We are traveling on a spinning dust mote.
The sun is going to explode in five billion years.
That’s about it.
Did I take comfort from the notion that all the meanness and posturing and fighting that dominate the airwaves…might be nothing more than the fart of a flea, in the grand scheme of the multiverse? Maybe briefly.
Did I ask, Could the sun please explode sooner, like maybe next week? You bet I did.
But I think I just wanted a rest from worrying. Among my many worries is that worrying is going to wear a groove in my brain so deep that worrying will be my default activity.
Among my many triggers for insomnia is the fun news that not-sleeping keeps metabolic waste circulating in the brain, instead of clearing it out during sleep. Basically my brain is clogged with brain poop. And artist/activist Tricia Hersey cites neuroscience research that just five days in a row of inadequate sleep causes deep damage in the brain.
Helpful to know, and something else to obsess over in the wee hours!
My mentor calls it “doomscrolling of the mind,” and I have Olympic-level skills in this sport.
But one recent morning, stewing in my own nonsense, I had this sense of being enfolded by a vast and loving being or essence, which said something like, “Look how adorable she is, thinking that all her fussing and planning and worrying and controlling will save her from the human condition! She’ll do anything to forget her mortality!”
It sounds a bit dark now that I write it down. But I did feel my body relax and my mind loosen.
I’ll take anything that helps me stand back from my overheated angsty brainwaves!
Practice Space
I’ve been seeking perspective, as you can see from the musings above. Especially since the end of the year always brings out my punitive side.
Look what you didn’t get done. See all those books unread? Remember all those unfinished projects? What about the people you meant to see? You had such big plans!
Then I think, The year’s not over, maybe I could still…
There’s a moment of resolve before I get overwhelmed and down on myself again.
Take those books. I see them every morning. At one point I got all stern: “You will not put any more library books on hold, you will not purchase any more books until you have completed this stack! You will post an Amazon review of that friend’s work as you promised eons ago, finish the hardest reads, return all borrowed books! If not by the end of December, maybe by January 31! You just have to put your mind to it!”
This predictably stripped all the pleasure from reading, one of the great joys of my life. What was a solace, an escape, a joy—a curiosity-following, empathy-building source of sustenance—became…something to get done faster.
I realized I was laboring under the mistaken belief that it’s the stacks of books that are making me feel bad about myself. That just on the other side of that stack (and loads of other lists) lurks some great good feeling in myself. Some OKness.
Instead of that crappy old pattern, I invite the enfoldment of the grand energy I felt spontaneously. How adorable it is, to think I need to prove my worth by doing all this reading.
Isn’t capitalism predicated on the idea that productivity (and consumption) defines us? I’m ready to disrupt that whole thought lockdown.
Because there are no good feelings just on the other side of my reading list or whatever. Kindness, not achievement, is the path to feeling OK in myself.
I’d like to finish out the year in that space of OKness, embraced by the bigger energy that sees how funny and sweet and human I’m being—how I will always have more books than I can possibly finish, and my ambitions will always outpace my capacity, and I will probably always tend toward angsty worries.
But that big energy doesn’t require a single thing from me to suffuse me in Love.
Savorings
I savor the nestling in, this time of year. With the cold and dark I’m introverting hard, despite numerous out-in-the-world commitments. I leave the house reluctantly and already can’t wait to return to my snug home. Where we’re all on the couch, dog and cat and two humans, warm and cozy.
Conversely I do enjoy my mid-day outings with Faith the poodle. It’s a lot of work to get dressed for a wind chill of zero, but once I’m out there, walking lifts my spirits.
Also, we scored a collapsible stationary bike for $20. Given that cycling is one of my main stress-relievers, and it’s too damn cold for me to feel the wind in my hair right now, I’m enjoying looking out a narrow window into our little back yard while pedaling away. There’s not as much to see as on a real bike ride, but at least it’s a patch of nature. And on a sunny afternoon, I can even track the shadow of the heron weathervane that Judy recently mounted on the garage as a birthday surprise.
Resourcing
I loved this We Can Do Hard Things podcast with Tricia Hersey I have yet to read her books, but I learned so much about her radical resting philosophy from this conversation. Did you know that taking a nap is a radical act? How liberating.
Bonus resource: I always feel an uplift from psychologist Dr. Rick Hanson’s “Just One Thing” enewsletter. His work melds neuroscience with Buddhism. His latest missive is Seeing Progress, which makes the point that we fixate on what’s lacking, vs. what is evolving or progressing. Timely!
It’s reassuring to know I am not the only one with a PhD in worry!
Lovely!