This morning I have been standing in line for about an hour, to get a box of fresh peaches from Allred Orchards. They are the best. But it is boring standing here in line. I thought about my post on anxiety, DAY #147, and how little discomfort we have to tolerate. Even boredom. We don’t have to be bored. And if we think we are about to be bored, we pull out our phones withe netflix or facebook or cnn, and we ease that discomfort, practically before it even happens.
“Instead of always hitting the escape button and going to (your phone), sometimes just allow yourself to practice (being bored)… get good at allowing and feeling your feelings…”Jody Moore
Standing here in line, waiting for my peaches, I started thinking about a story my friend, Cathy, told me about a man who was a prisoner of war. He was put in solitary confinement – he didn’t see anyone, day after day, week after week. And I don’t remember all the details, but I remember that he learned to spend time with himself. He learned how to manage his brain. He learned how to manage his day, within his mind. He did a lot of work in his mind, and he learned to love doing that work.
When the man was finally released, and he was with people, he found that he still needed to set the time aside for himself – he didn’t want to let people and activities and entertainment and responsibilities, etc distract him from that precious time he still needed with himself, to manage his brain, and his days, and his relationships.
How comfortable am I will my own thoughts? Whether that is waiting in a (very) long line to buy a box of fresh peaches, or lying in bed not sleeping at night, or on a long quiet drive in the car. How do I use that time with myself in my own head? That relationship is vital to the creation of my life, and the creation of and love for myself and my relationship with myself, with my life, and with others.
How about in my own body? How comfortable am I in my body? Whether it’s looking in the mirror or at a picture of me, or running around the block, or at the gym, surrounded by other people. How do I look at myself? What does that relationship look like?
Does it look like trust? Trust that I will do what I say I will do, but also that I won’t ask myself to do what I really am likely not to be able to do.
Does it look like respect? My body has worked hard, every day of my life. It has met my needs, but it has also been the means of making my dreams come true.
Does it look like love? Do I look at my body and believe of my body, You are 100% worthy, just the way you are. You are 100% lovable, just the way you are.