My days now consist of being confined to a chair, surrounded by multi-colored sticky notes plastered to my dining room table, piles of textbooks, dry erase boards, and a day planner color coded with details about the set routine for each day. Very rarely do I realize what day of the week it is. Time is eluding and illusory. Just like when my first semester of the exciting journey of nursing school started 1 year ago, spontaneity is once again a thing of the past. There’s no such thing as my mind saying, “Break-time – slowing down in 3, 2, 1….” Instead, each instant is filled with an unending, cyclical stream of thoughts – jumping between my dear little ones in Africa, memories of the past which tend to center heavily on my radiant father and the carefree lifestyle of my teenage years, my massive mental to-do-list related to scholastics, plans for the future, and sensory intake from the present moment. I then proceed to smile, laugh, shed a few tears, or a combination of all of the above. But every now and then, a particular thought form stops the train speeding through my subconscious… from my cerebral neurons to that sacred space in the heart center that unfailingly remains shielded from the untamed chatter, mundane task lists, and drone of intercepted conversation… and everything comes to a complete standstill. The train comes to a squealing halt, the chaos slowly quiets, I am enveloped by feelings of balance and serenity, and the warmth, sadness, or unbridled joy rises in my chest, overwhelming whatever resided there before, and gently whispers, “Shhh, be…”
This happened recently as I was walking from the parking lot at the HHPC building into my morning lecture. The inner dialogue was present as usual, “class, meeting, read, eat, read, study.” And suddenly out of the incessant flow, a memory surfaced and disrupted the monotonous stream, and there, in the forefront of my cognizance, just for a split moment, was a vivid flashback from June. Back at the orphanage, sitting on the emerald green bench waiting for meal-time…she laid on my lap and I stroked her corn rows and felt the pounding of her small but fierce heart on my thighs. Back to China. I was overcome with the same warmth, the closeness, and the security that both of us had sensed. I felt overwhelming joy; an uncontrollable smile splashed across my face.
Amongst the stockpile of incessant thoughts, emotions, memories, and lists, I am reminded by my inner self to return… to come back to what truly matters. What truly matters you may ask? The present moment – the relinquishment of all attachment and expectation. Goal building is a beautiful and worthwhile past-time; however, 9 times out of 10, I find myself overly obsessing with my personal performance – judgment and ego begin overpowering the initial light hearted intentions and a conditioned negative response is the culmination. As humans, we are conditioned to become attached to a specific outcome or result. We project how wethink things should be onto the world and when deviation from that initial mental construct occurs, we suffer. There is nothing more beautiful, or better than what is happening right here, right now. The present moment is all there is and ever will be. We fail to recognize the miracles taking place all around us because we’re absorbed in future plans or dwelling on what could have been.The grass isn’t greener on the other side. It’s as green as it’s going to get right where we are.
There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by since I boarded the plane from Africa back to the United States that the beautiful children who won my heart over from Becky’s Orphanage haven’t infiltrated every unoccupied, miniscule inch of my thought patterns. I’ve found myself attempting to face an illogical feeling of guilt – it doesn’t seem fair, does it… That I was born in a country with rich resources and paved roads, that I can afford to go to college and have medical services available if need be, that I was raised by two incredible parents. I could close my eyes to Africa’s suffering if I wanted to, but as I’ve said before, I can’t and I never will. I feel as though the memory of beautiful little China popped up as a reminder that distance is no hindrance for the heart…that the grass isn’t greener for me in Africa…that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, right here, right now.
We were made to dive into the depths of our vulnerability and in it, find the innate capacity within all of us to love and be loved. Despite our hesitant hearts, despite the wounds that render us unwilling to open ourselves up, knowing that exposure often breeds pain… it is beyond worth it. This gift of life is without question, too ridiculously short and precious to live in a half-alive state. Dive on in and don’t hold back. Disregard your fears; they will vanish and you will be renewed. Be bold in your vulnerability because once the shadow passes and the rays of sunlight begin penetrating the armor, your heart will be uplifted in ways it wasn’t before and it will be the safest place you’ve ever been. We should, by all means, challenge ourselves, but in that, welcome the unknown and remain open to any outcome. Attachment and expectation beget disappointment. So why not chose the only rational response for our own well-being: be like water and radiate gratitude for whoever and whatever comes.
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| The sacred miracle of existence echoes all around us… it’s everywhere, in anything we can see and experience. |
My days now consist of being confined to a chair, surrounded by multi-colored sticky notes plastered to my dining room table, piles of textbooks, dry erase boards, and a day planner color coded with details about the set routine for each day. Very rarely do I realize what day of the week it is. Time is eluding and illusory. Just like when my first semester of the exciting journey of nursing school started 1 year ago, spontaneity is once again a thing of the past. There’s no such thing as my mind saying, “Break-time – slowing down in 3, 2, 1….” Instead, each instant is filled with an unending, cyclical stream of thoughts – jumping between my dear little ones in Africa, memories of the past which tend to center heavily on my radiant father and the carefree lifestyle of my teenage years, my massive mental to-do-list related to scholastics, plans for the future, and sensory intake from the present moment. I then proceed to smile, laugh, shed a few tears, or a combination of all of the above. But every now and then, a particular thought form stops the train speeding through my subconscious… from my cerebral neurons to that sacred space in the heart center that unfailingly remains shielded from the untamed chatter, mundane task lists, and drone of intercepted conversation… and everything comes to a complete standstill. The train comes to a squealing halt, the chaos slowly quiets, I am enveloped by feelings of balance and serenity, and the warmth, sadness, or unbridled joy rises in my chest, overwhelming whatever resided there before, and gently whispers, “Shhh, be…”