Letting Go

You often hear that the way to peace is "letting go"… but it used to sound so negative to me sometimes.  Like giving up, giving in or saying goodbye.   But as I was staring at this gorgeous tree outside my window this evening, watching it give up its pink blossoms each time even a gentle breeze blew by, I had a thought that I was looking at it all wrong.

Letting go can be a positive.  It can be a "hello".  Like when you let go of anger and you suddenly have room for more joy.  When you let go of the past so that you can build a beautiful future.

I'm trying to teach my son the art of "re-framing" when he has anxiety… which he's struggling with right now and which I've struggled with often.  My therapist asked me to look at the things in life that made me anxious and see if I could slowly "reframe" them.  Could I stop thinking of a coffee shop as a place full of strangers who would stare at me and turn it into a peaceful nook to write my poetry full of people who are too engrossed in their own woes to stare or, better yet, who might be potential new friends?

So as I'm watching this tree outside shed its blossoms I realized that I am already succeeding in looking at the world more positively.  I could have been sad that this tree is only pretty for such a short time.  Instead… all I could think of was new life, new chances and how pretty the blossoms danced on the wind.  Like little pink ballerinas reminding me that life is too short to be anything but joyful every moment I can be.

Perhaps it's just the hot whiskey and cold medicine talking, but I don't think so.  I'm finding my joy.  I'm enjoying writing again.  I'm enjoying EVERYTHING again.

Letting Go
Letting go
blossoms float
little pink ballerinas
outside my window
A few slide into
a river of pink
each time the wind
reaches her hands
in
Letting go
they flow together
prettier than tears
slower than years
graceful
each one lifts me
I wonder
should I be sad
as my tree
sheds her skin
no
rejoice in growth
sometimes goodbye
is the only path
to
Hello

Insomnia Sucks

3:00 a.m.

This is the time I've been waking up lately.  3:00 a.m.  Each night I tell myself I will sleep better.  I go to be earlier, I go to bed later, I try tea and warm baths, warm milk... nothing helps.

Insomnia sucks.  It's now 6:00 a.m. as I write this and I haven't slept AT ALL since 3:00 a.m.  I have been sick nearly 5 days now with a stomach virus that landed me in the ER and just yesterday let me try solid foods.  I should be exhausted.  I should sleep.  But I don't.

Insomnia sucks.  It's like a little bedside demon.  It makes your mind reel and makes you think, just a little, that you might ACTUALLY be crazy.  After all, you think, if I were at peace, wouldn't I sleep?  It makes you think you've perhaps taken a misstep on life's road.  It makes you think of grocery lists.  It makes you rehearse conversations you'll never have or write letters you will never send.  It makes you plan bucket lists and play games with yourself to try to sleep.  It's a dark little friend who keeps you company by reminding you that you are alone.

It also makes you a late night math genius.  Because you begin that "sleep math"... and it's down to the second.  I can get 1 hour, 23 minutes and 45 seconds of sleep if I fall asleep NOW.  Okay Now.  Okay... 1 hour, 15 minutes, 18 seconds.

You think of something boring.  You think of something pleasant.  You fantasize. You shut your eyes. You try deep breathing.  My god... you even try counting.  Not sheep.  Just plain boring counting.  Figuring THAT will put you to sleep.  But it doesn't.

I had briefly thought I would just get up and work out.  Until I remembered that I have not had more than 2 bananas, 1/3 of a piece of toast and about 10 bites of noodles and 1/8 of a cup of rice in 5 days.  I'd faint.  Did it once in college.  Got so excited to be feeling better that I worked out after the flu.  Fainted.  In the U of O workout facility.  Woke to strangers around me.  Embarrassing.  The doctor at the student health center asked me if I had an eating disorder.  "no, I'm just dumb," was my reply.

So I'm writing.  It's what I do.  It's how I process.  It's how I breathe.  One pen stroke at a time, one key stroke at a time.  This is my breathing.  This is my peace.

Tonight I will pray for peace in the form of a good night of sleep.  Tonight, after I close my eyes, I pray when they open that clock does not say 3:00 a.m.

Good morning world... I hope you slept well.  I hope to again one day.