When I pull my car out of my space in the morning, the powdery pollen flies off it like fresh snow in Colorado. Throats are tickling, sneezes are echoing, and non-native Atlantans are loudly, irritatably, questioning their choice to move to a city that turns into one giant allergen for 4 weeks a year.
But for me it's all about renewal. I'll gladly suffer the sniffles and the semi-permanent yellow tint we all acquire this time of year for the beautiful green that emerges with it -- and those unmistakeable signs that winter is over and the warm days of summer are on the way. I'm particularly joyful this year, because as spring emerges from its shell, I get to look forward to graduation with my Master's in Professional Counseling.
A journey that started for me in Texas 5 years ago is finally drawing to a close -- or at least the first part of the journey is ending. Now I can go forth as a learning professional, rather than a professional student. And perhaps more importantly, I get to focus my constantly wandering attention on the pursuits that interest me most... and be only minimally concerned about meeting external standards.
Now that the final weeks are upon me, I find myself staring out the window more. I am learning to allow my thoughts to wander occasionally and not feel completely guilty about it. I've been shopping online. I've been planning trips. I've been tracking down some of my long-neglected friends and making plans to spend quality time with them --- not just the occasional 'in-passing' time where our minds are mostly focused elsewhere, but real time that involves really listening and really connecting.
It's hard to describe how freeing this has been for me. MDH (My Darling Husband) tells me I'm starting to seem much more like myself -- and less like the exhausted, fragile, overwhelmed mess he's been married to for the last year or more. Okay, he didn't say the second part, but I know he's thinking it!
These days, I find myself with renewed energy that builds on itself, because I'm able to use it not just for the things I have to do (which tend to drain my energy), but also for things I want to do. Two months ago, I often crawled into bed like it was my only sanctuary -- too exhausted and drained to move or think -- and waking up feeling like I'd barely been able to sleep at all.
Now I'm starting to notice that I'm still buzzing with positive energy late into the night, less concerned about grasping for a couple of hours of sleep and more focused on just enjoying whatever I'm doing at the moment. I've heard that when great artists, athletes, and scientists are at their best, they get into a zone in which time, food, sleep, and the outside world become mere abstractions. I am far, far from being an artist or athlete; but at times like this when the world seems bursting with possibilities, perhaps I understand "the zone." At least a little.
I think most of us need more of that particular state of mind in our lives, and we don't always make time for it. It's hard to lose yourself in a project when yourself has to go to the grocery store, finish a paper, respond to twelve e-mails and fold laundry -- all before bed. So we start with the shoulds, dutifully checking off each item as we go; and put the wouldn't it be cool if I coulds last on the list. And guess how often we get to those? Not often. We usually don't see them as productive or necessary to our daily lives.... But I wonder about that.
In order for the various plant species to survive, our leafy and flowery friends literally have to put themselves out there. They give up millions of tiny bits of themselves, most of which land impotently on cars, asphalt, and in the lungs of unsuspecting and allergic pedestrians. Only a tiny fraction of the pollen produced will find its way to bearing fruit and helping to create new life. But the plants go on pollenating, without regret or concern. They're in the zone, doing their thing, obeying their natural drives.
So with spring on the calendar and renewal on the wind, I'm gearing myself up to get totally, esctatically lost. Lost in a good book. Lost in conversation with an old friend. Lost in a writing project about which I'm passionate. In a new country I'm exploring. In music I've never heard before. Lost in the night, missing sleep -- not because I am worried or overwhelmed, but because I have more interesting and fulfilling things to do than merely sleep. I'm going to try to honor the impulses I have had my whole life: to do the creative, the fun, the utterly unproductive. And hopefully what will emerge is some combination of who I've always been and who I've been working so hard to become.
As one of our counseling heroes, Carl Rogers, so eloquently put it: "The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change."
Maybe to create yourself, you have to start by losing yourself.
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