detachment

I started writing this several days ago in my head about enjoying finally being able to take walks. I was wondering when walking wouldn't be enough and I'd get the urge to run. It hasn't happened yet. This is what I've observed--when I see others run I'm jealous of them running. When I am by myself I don't feel like breaking into a run.

Having said that I have experienced pleasure running--free, loose and swift. That experience feels so distant to me now. I find myself having conversations about running vs. walking. Why I would do one or the other and especially what I think it says about me that I don't have the urge to run right now. Not that I'm supposed to run (not cleared for that yet) but that I don't have the urge. Seems like a failure of spirit somehow.

Happily, I don't spend a great deal of time dwelling on these mean thoughts. I walk daily around my neighborhood or near work and listen to books or podcasts. Its very relaxing and I enjoy the time outside (so grateful for spring time). Enjoying the enthusiasm of the moment is a wonderful thing indeed. Its hard to feel the pleasure of the moment when you have the nag of a goal waiting for you to get back in the game.

I was doing a similar thing with my work life.

I was spending a lot of time trying to find ways to really "care" about what I was doing. Everyone around me seems engaged and passionate about the work we're doing. I wanted to feel that too and felt there was something lacking in me that I wasn't playing the game with the same intensity.

I wanted to do work that was seen to be important. I worried about the impression I was making with my work, about showing my managers and peers that my work/thoughts were valuable. I was working very hard to be noticed and appreciated. I'd come home all ramped up and almost believing that I was finally on to something with my career. But there was always a little bit of me left behind that was waiting to also get swept up in my professional zeitgeist. That part of me wasn't catching up.

I do have islands of enjoyment at work--mostly when I connect with other people and help them through their issues. Usually, this is not connected to the body of activities that count as my job. However, it is what gives me a warm feeling. I tell myself this is the intangible I bring to the table--the reason to show up, to be present, to engage.

I just spent the last two days in and out of the hospital. My partner started having chest pains so we rushed to the emergency room to find out what was going on. It took several hours before the doctors could determine it was NOT a heart attack (we still don't know what is causing her pain).

Our friends and coworkers all expressed real concern for our well being, telling us to take the time we need, to relax.

Neither of us could relax. I won't speak for my partner but even in the emergency room I was taking furtive glances at my work email. I saw people looking for my attention RIGHT NOW (even from people who knew where I was and what I was doing).

What I tell others I find I must tell myself--people will treat you the way you allow them to.

As my partner rests from the day's trails, all the little email voices in the background seem to be a thousand miles away. From my living room window I can count the blossoms on my little peach tree. The clouds are gathering for rain. My dog is asleep at my feet.

I'm so grateful.