It's not an uncommon day that I ponder what tremendous accidental qualities I will have in the future. I envision myself rising with the sun, practicing the latest ashtanga yoga pose on my hand-crafted bamboo deck, sipping my steaming acai green tea from a mug that a local coastal artist made, sitting back in my rustic adirondack chair, and slowly inhaling the morning... all before the children wake and get ready for school. Yes, like a hippie Folgers commercial. I don't know when I will miraculously transition from my 16oz morning cup of coffee (with cream AND sugar... and sometimes a splash of morning bitterness) and my trimonthly yoga attendance into a world of green tea and Prana-filled closets, but somehow in my dreams it all seems so real. And it isn't just the tea, and the artsy mug, and the handcrafted deck, and the damn rustic chair... its the calm. You know those people you meet who just seem to exude calm? They have names like Aurora or Jade, wear white flowy skirts, play the fiddle, and make candles. Well, in my mind, I believe that I will somehow, someway turn into an Aurora or Jade in the "future". But currently I am in the oh-so-obvious present... which for the most part I enjoy (please, no interventions after this post)... but then there are the days when I feel I can not seem to balance my imbalances- like I am walking backwards on a tightrope carrying a large stack of teacups. And I know the exact cause of this feeling...
It's the transitions. The many transitions (that we all go through) but that somehow turn our craved predictable moments into little hurricanes of disarray. We like the control, the expected, it's in our nature. Children become emotional monsters in the face of an unstructured environment, and I believe as adults, we are no different. So here I am- in my twelfth week of training and my sixth week of nightshifts mixed with dayshifts-and I am no better off than a 3-year-old. {for example: About a week ago I took Miles to the dog park after I woke from a long sleep post-nightshift. While frolicking around in the dewdrops and daisies he managed to knock over my 20oz latte (which I had taken zero sips from) and somehow my sloth-like reflexes were no match to gravity. So as I watched my little non-fat vanilla latte cascade down the sidewalk, I had two options: 1) collapse onto the cold concrete and succumb to loud gasping sobs or 2) return to the coffee shop and request another order. Luckily for both Miles and my sake, I chose the latter.} This past week, I worked the nightshift on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday- slept a bit on Monday- and was back to class early Tuesday and Wednesday morning. I return to work Thursday (tomorrow) night. Some things I have learned in my thought-hazes are that the dryer is not the microwave, and cereal doesn't look right in a coffee filter. The craziest part of it all.... is that I really love my job, and in some twisted world, this is all worth it.
I only have six more weeks to go... which I recognize is not long in the grand scheme of things, but in the little moments of the day, it can add up. So I have decided to just embrace it. I am embracing the exhaustion, the absences to the gym, the extra coffees in the afternoons (or 2 am), the brain-lapses, the less books read, the more tv watched, the sometimes sullen mood, and all of the little hurricanes it brings. Maybe somewhere, in the eye of the hurricane, I will find my calm. Eat your heart out Jade!
~30's the new 20!
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