September 14, 2023
The battles that count aren’t the ones for gold medals. The struggles within yourself…that’s where it’s at. ~ Jesse Owen
Not to be inconsistent, but I’m really not over my angst about people wearing masks. A mental exclamation point and eye roll were my reactions yesterday when I was in a parking lot and saw a woman wearing TWO tightly fitted N95 masks, elastics crisscrossing the back of her head.
I find myself increasingly longing for consistency. Not so much in the world, that’s fruitless. But in my self, in my moods, in my dealings with life. After an emotional roller coaster day yesterday, today I’m thinking: I realize humans are emotional beings, and we, as souls, supposedly chose to incarnate as these volatile creatures in part to experience all those emotions.
But isn’t enough, enough? I’m not sure there’s an opt-out option, other than the obvious ones of death or insanity. Neither of those is appealing at the moment.
*****
Yesterday demonstrated how inconsistent I am. Within a two-hour period I went from exasperated and flustered, to genuinely enjoying myself, to exasperation and worry.
In retrospect, the enjoying-myself part of the program was all self-motivated and self-propelled. I went to Starbucks to cash in a gift card on a pumpkin spice latte and pumpkin cream cheese muffin, followed by a happy search for Fall-colored clothing.
I used to regularly partake of such mundane pleasures, but over the last several years, because of family obligations, going out and having a little fun has become so logistically complex it’s too much trouble to make the effort.
The parts of the morning that were unpleasant happened because of other people’s behavior. My reaction to the unpleasantness sent my emotional elevator plummeting from the penthouse of enjoyment to the basement of resentment.
Oh, no, not this floor again.
*****
Other than praying mightily to become as serene as a Madonna with not a worry in the world, I haven’t come up with a workable approach. Everyone has responsibilities. Maybe our only control is in how we react to them, particularly if we feel that we did not ask for that “job” (even on a karmic level).
From a slightly different perspective, perhaps I did agree to a particular responsibility. But did I really request that it go on quite this long, and in quite this fashion? It’s said that the devil is in the details, and apparently I didn’t look into the details when reviewing this part of my soul contract.
Before I embark on the HMS Poor Poor Pitiful Me, time to get quiet for a moment and check in with my dear heart. Or check in with my dear tarot cards. Seventy-eight cards, each with a unique voice and a unique tale to tell. It might be an interesting experiment to check in first with my dear heart, and then see what the Universe’s heart-voice wishes to whisper through the sacred tool of tarot.
I stroll to the inlaid cedar box where the colorful, chatty cards nestle, shuffle them thoughtfully, and center my attention on my queries.
