On Mindful Monday, my readers and I practice the art of pausing, TRYING to be still, or considering, ever so briefly, the big picture. We're hoping this soul time will provide enough peace of mind to get us through the week!
I commissioned an artist to calligraphy that passage from T.S. Eliot's "The Four Quartets" in college for my theology professor and thesis director, Keith Egan, because it was his favorite quote. I memorized the quote. I would repeat it on my long walks around the picturesque campus, in line at the dining hall, as I studied in the library. It took on a life within me.
But I never understood it.
Until now.
I think it has something to do with stopping during the day, with consistent prayer and meditation, and with trusting in a God that you can't see and often cannot feel. Perhaps it means to allow your soul to catch up with your body and mind, like the tale author Macrina Wiederkehr tells in her book "Seven Sacred Pauses":
[There was a] story about some westerners who hired a few bushmen guides to help them travel through the Kalahari Desert. Not being used to moving at the pace their employers were expecting, the bushmen suddenly sat down to rest, and no amount of persuasion could induce them to continue the journey until they were ready. The reason for this much needed rest, the bushmen explained, was that they had to wait for their souls to catch up....The bushman of the Kalahari called this ancient knowing "the tapping of the heart."
I'm sure that T.S. Eliot didn't consider a psychiatric treatment plan when he wrote the words "wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought," but that is exactly what many doctors and therapists said to me the first two and half years of my recovery from my nervous breakdown. For months, I wanted nothing more than to survive one day at a time: to dress and feed the kids, get them to school and soccer practice, and to use whatever energy and concentration I had left on writing a decent blog post. My primary goal was to keep myself from relapsing and returning to the occupational-therapy room of Laurel Hospital to paint birdhouses with a few new friends. My therapist and doctor were wise to advise me not to dig any deeper into my psyche than I needed to because I was still too fragile.
But as I erect important boundaries in my life and devote the needed time to meditation and prayer, I've reached a firmer ground where I can explore those thoughts that Eliot is talking about: the fears that keep me trapped in dysfunctional behavior, the messages from my childhood that are simply incorrect and harmful to my intimate relationships, and the thinking patterns that need some major adjustments.
Eliot is absolutely right. The stillness needed to come first: the stopping, and breathing, and listening. The undoing. Then hope: the hard job of replacing the old tapes with newer, optimistic ones and aspiring for a life that is more manageable, less distracted and scattered. And then faith. Believing in a God that can deliver me to solid earth where I can begin to think, consider, cry, and heal. And ultimately, to dance.
To read more Beyond Blue, go to www.beliefnet.com/beyondblue, and to get to Group Beyond Blue, a support group at Beliefnet Community, click here.
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Mindful Monday's will be a very possitive excercise for me to do. I am on vacation for too long & am having trouble with my old friends & their negative attitudes. Sorry for any misspellings; I can't find the spell check.
I have tryed to look at life with a win-win point of view. Certainly not always attainable as a depressive.
I don't feel that I fit in any group of persons in my life, including siblings, adult children, grandkids & now all friends. I think I am going to cry. Sniff Sniff They can't ALL be wrong; I just don't fit in anywhere.
I need to touch homeplate at my home. BUT I am sad there, too.
Bev Y
Bev Y: I know the feeling of not fitting in, like I was born into the wrong family and are these really my children and why are they so critical of me and not like the stories I read of children who praise their Mother. I feel such a failure. It makes me so sad. I'm hiding out from friends (not making contact) as the ones that are positive influences, in the mood I'm in, I will damage the relationship; and the negative ones, it will make it even harder to come out of this depressive mood. So I suppose the Monday message of being still is what I need to do and be, heh?
Don't remember whose wise words these were originally, but this post certainly brought it to mind, and I'm going to add it to the remiders I have poted above my computer desk for the purpose of centering myself: "It's called Human Being, not Human Doing" I'llprobably add the Elliot post there as well(or should that be elliot?) I never read him without leaning some wisdom, but this was a new one for me, T Thanks for bringing it to my attention. It's WAY too easy for me of late to wallow in the problem rather than the solution, focusing on those things I can no longer do instead of those I AM still capable of. I know from experience that is a quick trip down the slippery slopes that lead to the maw of the snake pit, andthat's a place I TRULY don't want to spend any more time. (been there, done that, bought the tee shirt) Took abother tumble yesterday and couldn't get up, so this morning I'm tempted to go straight bak to bed and pull my covers over my head. Since I cracked my coxis, the pain from simply sitting--even on my "doughnut pillow" makes bed look even that much more attractive, as does the stronger pain med I was given. I'm USED to my Vicodin, so it doesn't cause the same grogginess this Percodan stuff does. This is a PERFECT day for me toconcentrate on making my soul be still.
To Arista, Wow your words sound like my words. I know we raised our children to listen and show respect to others and they do. BUT my adult children are critical of me. They even talk about what I may say to one of them. I let them know how much I love them and that they are "great parents." STILL I have to measure my words. I can't be my funny self and find myself pulling my head in, like a turtle. I know that adult kids need to have approval from parents. BUT parents need kind words and approval from their kids and their spouses. I sure hope that the MINDFUL MONDAYS will help me adjust and relax and be more productive during the week.
Bev Y
The poem is beautiful. The words give me a new thought that will help me find peace. I am bipolar. My chief symptom is an exhaustion so deep I have problems doing things like washing my hair regularly and fixing meals. I bedevil myself with hopes and plans that are presently impossible and internal screams about my condition.
I'm going to try to still those thoughts for awhile. Put the hopes on the shelf the way I used to put the summer clothes away for the winter season. Look for the blessings I have here and now. Things as small as the softness of my bed and as large as the lack - in retirement - of demands I must struggle to meet.
I'm not going to hope for it, or even look for it, but it occurs to me it could free up some energy.
Theresa in St. Louis.
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