Hello friends,
I've always had difficulty forming new habits. I know I'm not alone in this. I can get something going for a week or so, but all that work goes out the window if I slip up. Whether I'm exercising or studying a new language, I can't miss even one day. My brain takes that as a cue to throw the whole thing out the window.
I'm not quite sure why my brain does this, but I'm working on it. Initially, I thought I was getting stuck in the trap of all-or-nothing thinking. I missed one day of drinking the recommended amount of water? I'm a failure. No reason to keep trying. But that's not it, at least not anymore. Now I think I might have gone the opposite way. Only one day missed? That's no big deal. Get back on the horse tomorrow. Only I don't. I skip another day, then another. And suddenly, it's two weeks later, and I haven't met my step goal even once in that time. Now there's extra work to be done. I have to get over that initial hump once again. But rather than grit my teeth and get to work, I let anxiety freeze me in place. Then I have to extricate myself from that quicksand before I can even think about starting again.
Today, though, I realized something interesting. I've meditated for forty-nine consecutive days. Keeping up a habit that long is rare in and of itself for me. But the fascinating thing is that I'm developing other entrenched habits as well. I've flossed every day this month, and I've only missed a few days of Hebrew study in that same time. Logically, I know that training my mind to think in better ways will improve other aspects of my life. That's why I meditate. But seeing it in action makes it concrete. We all know that sunsets are beautiful, but seeing the colors dance across the sky evokes feelings we're hard-pressed to describe.
Sometimes I balk at the fact that my brain rules my days with a whimsy I can't anticipate. My body and mind attempt to adjust accordingly, but they're always playing catch-up. MS festers in my brain, causing symptoms that vary from day to day. Clinical depression, anxiety, and OCD present ever-moving targets. Just when I think I have the tools to manage them, they shift their appearance. One thing this has taught me, though, is to reexamine everything. I notice the shifts in my own diseases and disorders because I'm looking for them. What else can I see if I pay enough attention?
Writing Letters on Being has become a form of searching for those hidden things. I don't plan them out in advance. Sometimes an idea will come to me during the week, but I also sit down to write with nothing in mind. As I write, I look for the shifts. Some words are true from the start. Others are half-sunken stepping stones leading to the truth. They show the way, but only if I trust enough to follow them.
I leave you this week with a question: What shifts have you seen lately? What pockets of insight have you seen in yourself? Which bridges have you trusted to carry your weight? Let me know in the comments.
I’ll see you next week,
Yardena
Weekend Potpourri
Flowers of Fire: Illustrations from Japanese Fireworks Catalogues (ca. 1880s)
‘Wrong number? Let’s chat’ Maasai herders in East Africa use misdials to make connections
The 18th-century cookbook that helped save the Slovene language
How Amy Winehouse's death changed conversations about mental health in music
“Thunder Moon,” the latest installment of Nina MacGlaughlin’s column The Moon in Full