I have been without a permanent home since leaving Ventura.
Most my stuff is in storage and I have been bouncing between a few beautiful places.
But a friend offered me a more permanent place to settle into and I was excited about the freedom that would allow me. I was also more anxious then I realized.
What if it becomes too difficult to commute to see my nephews? What if I can’t figure out a good place to film Hug Nation? What if I don’t like the new place? What if I only end up staying there a couple nights a week? Would that be disrespecting my friend’s offer? Am I keeping him from getting well paying renters?
Even when I was not specifically thinking about these living arrangement issues, they were on my mind. I was feeling generally uneasy all day.
I called my mom and asked her to lunch. When she didn’t pick up at first, I decided to go someplace to eat and watch Netflix (& chill) by myself with headphones.
She called back, but by that time I had “eating alone” in my mind and told her we’d do it another day.
But as I drove to lunch, I was vividly aware of the unease. So, despite my desire to be alone, I decided that seeing someone I love would be good for me. (I attribute this awareness to my recent meditation and renewed daily spiritual practice.) So I called mom back.
As we ate, I started to share with my mom all of the concerns I had about this upcoming change.
But as I was reciting my list of fears, it hit me: None of these things are real.
I had fallen into the trap of “worry.” I had created a list of possible future scenarios out of my imagination – and then started to feel discomfort about them in the present moment.
I was reminded of a Byron Katie phrase (taught to me by Jacob Glass) that I once relied on heavily: “Woman sitting in chair”. As often happens, I had forgotten to tune into the reality of the present moment.
As I had all these stressful thoughts swirling around in my head, what is the only thing that was actually true? “Man sitting in booth eating sushi.” Everything else is a story! A fiction created by my mind. I had used my imagination to create possibilities that I did not want. I was suffering in the present about a future that will probably never come.
Mid-sentence, I stopped and blurted out to my mom, “None of this has happened!”
What was actually real?
I was sitting across from my beautiful mother. Eating delicious sushi.
That is it.
The physical feeling of unease literally disappeared in that moment
The Now was perfect.
The future, should I *choose* to think about it, is filled with all sorts of fantastic possibilities.
I wonder if there is good sushi near my new place? On second thought, I’ll wonder about that when I’m there and hungry for sushi.
Until then, I’ll be sitting in this chair and trusting that the present moment is always perfect.