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Monday i wrote, "Oh. I understand why i just poured myself into the dye project: because of the insanity of work." Tuesday i didn't have much of a chance to write anything: my first meeting was at 5:30 and work sped along in an interaction-heavy day until 4 pm. Home to vent with Christine and have a yummy dinner, then a longish evening at the Meetinghouse library with the incoming clerk. We sorted donated books into ones to be sold at the fundraiser, to find another Quaker home, and then the remainder into the proposed shelf order. We identified our first shelf review targets.
And then we were able to get all the boxes under one shelf, removing a stack from a corner, and giving us all a great sense of "job done!" It was a bit of antidote to the day.
I must return to a practice of understanding my ordinariness. I know i have gifts, have been labeled "gifted," know i am creative and intelligent. And i have an understanding of the mystic concept of perfection, a state that compounds a rightness and acceptance along with an expectation of continued transformation. But there is also an understanding of ordinariness -- it is perhaps better known as humility -- and i think it's a partial antidote to my fretting.
I know that a practice i need to find space for is one where i do not carry everything. I can frame the practice as a surrender, with the serenity prayer, as an emotional aikido. I can remember the practice as i wake up, as i drive to work: but during the day i get caught up in illusions of responsibility and confused by spectres of fears and worries. "Oh My God Trainwreck!" i mutter and exclaim. I know i am looking at so many things outside my control, yet there are other things inside my control: have i screwed that up? What about communication: i can accept that there's no loop out of which i've been left, but that makes it even worse. Was i supposed to have called meetings and explained things? Because i really thought other folks were in charge and -- "Oh My God Trainwreck!" -- was i supposed to be up in the control room? But ... no? Surely not?
I still have that need to be respected, that need to be regarded as someone who can be relied upon to have the right things taken care of. I believe there's a way to rid myself of that *need,* that ego driven and yet still do well.
Work calls.
And then we were able to get all the boxes under one shelf, removing a stack from a corner, and giving us all a great sense of "job done!" It was a bit of antidote to the day.
I must return to a practice of understanding my ordinariness. I know i have gifts, have been labeled "gifted," know i am creative and intelligent. And i have an understanding of the mystic concept of perfection, a state that compounds a rightness and acceptance along with an expectation of continued transformation. But there is also an understanding of ordinariness -- it is perhaps better known as humility -- and i think it's a partial antidote to my fretting.
I know that a practice i need to find space for is one where i do not carry everything. I can frame the practice as a surrender, with the serenity prayer, as an emotional aikido. I can remember the practice as i wake up, as i drive to work: but during the day i get caught up in illusions of responsibility and confused by spectres of fears and worries. "Oh My God Trainwreck!" i mutter and exclaim. I know i am looking at so many things outside my control, yet there are other things inside my control: have i screwed that up? What about communication: i can accept that there's no loop out of which i've been left, but that makes it even worse. Was i supposed to have called meetings and explained things? Because i really thought other folks were in charge and -- "Oh My God Trainwreck!" -- was i supposed to be up in the control room? But ... no? Surely not?
I still have that need to be respected, that need to be regarded as someone who can be relied upon to have the right things taken care of. I believe there's a way to rid myself of that *need,* that ego driven and yet still do well.
Work calls.
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