'You're so productive, aren't you, lately?' the man says, throwing his arms around me.
'Get off,' I laugh. 'I'm doing stuff'. And I realise I am doing things, and that the reason he said that is because I've been struggling to do stuff for a while. I planted trees (there's a belief in the future right there), cleaned out my cupboards, made toothpaste and a face mask, screwed makeshift wire latches on the gates in the vegie garden, walked 'round the block and collected plantain, put plantain in vodka for a tincture, tidied the house, and hey, I even collected some flowers for a vase in the house. Go me.
@tryskele, in her #mindfulmonday post this week wrote about how cooking keeps her in the moment, and wondered what others did to keep them in the beautiful moment where the past nor the future existed. When we're going through rough times, sometimes those things we love to do keep us grounded. It's moving meditation. My husband does it with putting his landrover together in the shed. 'I don't need meditation, baby', he says, 'I'm doing zen and the art of Series 3 Landrover Maintenance'. Or reconstruction, as it is.
This was my weekend ear worm, which reminded me about not looking back, nor into the future either. That shit does you no good at all. You gotta walk and don't look back. Or cook, and don't look back. Or garden, and don't look back. Or surf, and don't look back. Or make toothpaste and don't look back.
So if you just put your hand in mine,
We're gonna leave all our troubles behind.
Keep on pushing and don't look back.
Now, till I say, we won't look back, girl.
Keep on walking and won't look back.
Forget about the past now, baby.
And don't look back.
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, don't look back.
Damn it's nice to be walking in the moment again without the sheer effort it takes to get dressed, go to work, make dinner, and pretend things are okay. It's nice to do stuff and feel joy again, living truly in the moment, and having fun with it in a way I haven't for so long.
The only reason to look back now is to smirk at my anxious and sad self and say: 'Told ya girl, it would pass. Told ya it would get better!'.
And it did.
Thanks for that great advice, me.