Hello Friend,
In the past week I have been attempting to be more mindful in slowing down which involves spending more intentional time outside. This is why I have chosen to write from the backyard so that I can become grounded in my body. Here, the elements remind me to root where I am instead of ceaselessly chasing after the winds of my mind which has been a source of great stress. Lately, I have found myself in a perpetual state of urgency and unable to break out from a cycle of burnout which has been afflicting my emotional and physical wellbeing.
Just last week I found my first white hair at the age of 26. And as a disclaimer, my concern has nothing to do with misogynistic beauty standards, rather I am worried because this, along with other physical symptoms I have been experiencing, is a sign that I need to get my stress levels under control. When I called my roommate into the bathroom to confirm to me that it was in fact a white hair rather than a trick of the light, she laughed and said, “See! This is what you get for being a perfectionist!”
Since then, I have reflected on the relationship between my need for perfection and my high level of stress. I have created very rigid structures and rituals in my life that were meant to help me cultivate my writing and asana practice, but mostly they have been quite depleting as I am more focused on the completion of the task to get to the next task rather than participating in the process. These systems have been causing me more harm than productivity because they amplify the fears that are roots to my perfectionism, such as a great mistrust in the unknown and fear of failure.
My fears became apparent most recently on the summer solstice. I welcomed a patient at work then had a brief discussion about the day being the longest of the year. “Be sure to watch the sunset tonight,'' I said. He asked if I had planned to do the same thing and I admitted that I had thought about it but that the drive to my favorite viewpoint was an hour away. He reminded me that it was the longest day of the year and encouraged me to go. This sparked my spontaneous nature and after work, I drove up Germantown road away from St. John’s and to the countryside while Simon & Garfunkel narrated my escape from the city.
I had taken this drive through the rural land west of the city many times during the summer after I had graduated college two years ago. Overwhelmed and feeling suffocated by urban life after moving back home from a mountainous region, the openness of endless pasturelands gave room for breath. The hour-long drive in the cooling evening reflected those previously driven and I was reminded of my need for freedom, to connect with nature, to entertain my spontaneous disposition, to be. I had been suppressing these needs in order to meet the demands of capitalism and obtain my most basic physiological needs. And while I am aware that I have responsibilities I must meet, this drive reminded me that the need for breaks is necessary for a greater quality of life and that rest and communing with nature shouldn’t be a luxury–which it tends to become within the system of capitalism. The release of this tension from my body and spirit came to me with the fragrance of warm arid grass through the open windows.
When I got to the park an hour and a half before sun down, it was seemingly more empty for a summer evening than I had anticipated, but I like it most when it's that way. I left my car with my keys and a book of poetry and walked toward the tree line across the field from where I had parked. This park had become a sacred place of refuge for me that summer. I had spent most days there sitting under the trees while reading the Bhagavad Gita, the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, and filling my journal with endless thoughts as I processed transition and grief. I was, after all, fresh out of college and studying to become a yoga teacher, so the required reading of sacred texts and my life circumstances influenced my intellectual process at the time. Who do I want to be, and what do I want to do? was the typical question on my mind in those days, so I spent most of the time daydreaming of the answer.
Mostly, the forest was a place that I could hide in because growing up seemed incredibly daunting to me at the time. I looked out at the world post-pandemic and everything and everyone seemed like it was unraveling and hopeless, it was truly a chaotic time to soft launch into adulthood. In short, I felt the way Arjuna (whose character serves as a symbol for the reader) had when he looked upon the violence of his family divided and at war while having a conversation with Lord Krishna about the truth of our reality and spiritual enlightenment.
I entered the forest, and like any sacred place, I removed my shoes. It was summer and the birds joyously spoke of it. As I walked the path, I became aware of how nature has this way of moving so slowly as to remind you that this is the correct pace one should take. I often find the contrast between the slow movement of forests and the fast urgency of city life to be humbling because societal expectations become simply an illusion and I am then free to be without them. It is entertaining to me that while the forest exists with all its simplicities, such as the sounds of a rushing brook, I am somewhere in the urban complex worried about the tribulations of society. Meanwhile, somewhere in the wild, the brook babbles and laughs freely. When I am with the trees, I am reminded of how small I am in this world, that my time on earth is short yet my essence continues by flowing and intertwining with everything. This widens my perspective, my attachments fall away and I feel safe again.
Finally, I came across my favorite tree and said hello. This tree has become my favorite because it has these surfaced roots that grow along the slope of the trail. They are like steps of a staircase and if you are small like me, you can sit in them and against the tree trunk so it feels like it is holding you. I sat in her (the tree) roots and released the weight of my body and worries onto her and wrapped my arms around her trunk, and as always, she took a hold of me.
Much had occurred in the 13 months since I had last sat with her, and my one-sided retelling of the events was a way for me to process them. I spoke of my recent publications, heartbreak, familial loss, sacred ceremonies, becoming a yoga teacher and visiting Mexico. I realized that much of what I had daydreamed had actualized into tangible experience, and that not only had I been daydreaming but that I had been planning my future. Yet, it had not happened in the timing or way that I had anticipated it to have.
Suddenly, with my widened perspective, I could see the work of God in my life. Everything that had happened, the sudden opportunities, meeting the right people, the synchronicities, the timing, each miraculous chance was all the work of the divine orchestrating it without my need to force, to control or intervene. My desires, both spoken and wordless, had happened despite my fears that it was impossible. It was not for me to know how or when it would happen and certainly the chances were not my doing.
I was only the dreamer projecting my hope into the void of inexhaustible potential by writing poetry, God made everything else happen.
To surrender my attachments to the outcome, to really let it leave my palm instead of holding onto it out of fear, is the only way I can obtain exactly what it was that I wanted. This led to the feeling of safety that I desired when I tried with much effort to control what was beyond my power. And suddenly, the act of surrender became an effort of humility.
As I continued my walk along the forest path toward the clearing to watch the sunset, I was beginning to find clarity as to why I feel the pressure to obtain perfectionism or to control the circumstances of my life. I was afraid that if I made a mistake, I would reject myself so harshly and end up being abandoned by myself. All of this was a plea for my own love and to be radically accepted with compassionate loving-kindness even when I made a mistake or did meet my desired outcome. I just wanted to love myself and be loved by myself.
This was quite devastating to realize that I had not been living in alignment with my values and morals for a long while. I believe so deeply in self compassion, in moving slowly and mindfully, in frequenting the outdoors to cultivate greater connection with the earth. This is partially the reason why I had not been feeling at all like my typically sprightly self, why I had been living in such great fear, why my mind seemed to be moving faster than my body, why I was drained.
I made a vow then and there to bring my work and life into greater balance and to prioritize going outside in nature especially now that the weather is hot and the days are longer. This is why I plan to go camping for the holiday weekend, so that I can go absolutely feral in the dirt for a deep reset. I hope that you will do the same, if not this weekend than sometime this summer.
p.s. here is a link to my road tripping playlist that I made for that drive up to the sunset view for your summer adventures