My wife is feeling the effects of major surgery. I am contending with a common cold. We haven’t energy beyond eat, feed the animals, rest. We stick to basics and concentrate on core matters. We defer details to a later date.
I haven’t energy to exert, physically or mentally. I conserve motion. I limit analysis. And I’m finding that I am letting go of the need to control events, to impose my will on circumstance. I just don’t have it in me.
This energy conservation is refreshing and replenishing. I realize how much effort I customarily expend on what is out of my hands. I am going with the flow.
My priorities are clearer: practice self-care, nourish those around me, accept life on life’s terms and find joy in simple things. I’m not retreating to the sidelines. Rather, I’m taking an active role, minus the drama.
Today’s marathon is walking downstairs and retrieving the mail. Mulligan the cat sneaks into the stairway. Customarily, this annoys me. I want Mulligan to stay where I think he belongs, on the right side of the upstairs door. But today I welcome his company. He scampers through the next doorway into the foyer. He checks the scent of the great outdoors. I gather the bills and circulars. He scrubs the Astro Turf doormat with his five-toed mitts, then flops over and onto his back. This is the point I normally say, “Get in here, you meathead!” Today, I take a seat on the bottom stair and listen as he investigates. He makes quick work of it. Now he’s rubbing against my legs like he hasn’t seen me in days. I rise and close the foyer door. Mulligan and I turn and walk up the stairs, slowly, one small step at a time.