Let it Go with the Flow

A Mantra

I. Love.The. Ocean. Like Oprah loves bread. Well, maybe I just love the beach. Whenever Justin and I discuss taking a vacation, he gravitates toward the mountains and I plead to do another tropical, oceanside getaway. I usually win. It’s a goal of mine to visit every island in Hawaii. 

I say I just love the beach because I used to have dreams about the ocean. Waves, in particular. Large tsunami-like waves that grow and swell ominously off in the distance. They’re always there threatening, but never crashing down. More times than not, the sky is gray and foreboding in these dreams. In waking hours, I feel a swelling in my chest sometimes, much like the swelling of these ominous waves and I can easily get carried away by it. This is why I need a mantra. To pull me back out of the all-consuming feeling. I just can't figure out one that I connect with, or that feels powerful enough to flip that switch in my brain.   

Once, while on vacation (in real life, not a dream) in Kauai, we went to a beach where the surf is particularly rough. The sky was angry looking but the forecast did not predict rain. It seemed, though, that the large, frantic waves were teaching the beach a lesson for its confronting calmness. We wouldn’t dare swim, we just listened to the heavy metal version of nature while we closed our eyes on our blanket, choosing the soft side of calm. I was reminded of these dreams in that moment and kept peeking an eye open every once in a while to make sure the waves didn’t decide to gang up on its opponent and take out everything in sight. 

“It’s both”. 

While meditating, this phrase came up for me almost psychically. More than once. I’ve tried to make sense of it, like it was the ultimate answer to a question I didn’t even know I was asking. I think I’m beginning to grasp the message.  

Time

Let me start here, though. What is causing the swelling feeling in your chest, you ask? 

I recently read a book that shook me to my core. Before I reveal the title, I’m going to ask you a question. Say you are one of the lucky ones and you get to spend an average lifespan on earth, let’s call it between 75 and 80 years. Without (this is important) attempting to do any math, how many weeks do you think you get to live within this timespan? NO MATH! Just your gut response! *Sorry I yelled. 

If you said somewhere between 50,000 through a million you aren’t far off from some of the responses I have gotten (and thought, myself). 

If you said half of the lower end of the average response; 25,000 weeks, you’d be closer but still, unfortunately, very far off. 

You live, within the average lifespan, for 4,000 weeks. Which is part of the title, “4,000 Weeks, Time Management for Mortals” by Oliver Burkeman. This book shifted my entire perception of life.      

And now, the even tougher question…how many weeks have you already lived? 

Then, to get it over with and rip the bandaid off, the scariest fact we all know. You are not guaranteed any of those remaining weeks, days, years, minutes, or seconds. All you have is right now. 

NOW, while we’re all hyperventilating, let's actually do some math…for fun (said no one ever). I promise it will be helpful. It will be difficult to confront, but it will be worth it in order to live as intentionally as possible. 

One thing that is within our control (to varying degrees with consideration for many different factors: individual circumstance, privilege, or pure, horseshoe up the ass- solid gold luck) is how we use the amount of time there is on a clock, in a day, in a week, in a year. We are going to go with an average here again, just to be able to paint some semblance of a picture. 

We all know there are 24 hours in a day. The recommended amount of sleep for the average human is 7 hours.

24-7= 17 

So, we have 17 hours in which we are awake and have certain freedoms to do certain things. 

For some, that time is reduced with the number of hours we work and commute. Average work day is 8 hours on top of a typical half hour commute (each way), so 9 hours working and traveling to work. 

17-9=8 

Each day you are left with 8 hours to whatever else you need to do. The way we spend that time varies greatly from situation to situation. For Justin and I, there’s cooking and cleaning, and prioritizing time spent with Miles. Also, for Miles, there’s bath time and bedtime. Then for us there’s time for exercise/meditation to remain healthy. So what’s left after that? About an hour to sink into exhaustion and disassociate via TV…while folding laundry. If you put off the cleaning during the day, then the weekend, the time when you get to rest and recharge for another week of the same bullshit needs to be dedicated to reorganization so that routines can resume on schedule. God this sucks. I think it sucks most because I feel like I’m a hamster running on a wheel, getting nowhere fast, and the tsunami behind me in the distance is always there. 

Over a decade ago, I remember being at a get together with friends where we would play cards and drink and indulge in our 20s. I was reminiscing that only ten years before, I was 15 and it still felt like yesterday. Then I yelled out, “OH MY GOD! In ten more years, I’m going to be 35!!!!” The thought was shocking to me. Like I’d been stung…into awareness. The cruel, jellyfish of time had its grips on me and I was…not ok. HOW!? I couldn’t unthink it. People were laughing, thinking I was joking, and I get why they thought that because I put on a smile so as not to alarm anyone but I was alarmed. 

I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I was just going with the flow, enjoying card nights, getting my bearings with my newly acquired career. 

That year Justin and I got engaged. About a month before our wedding, it was a warm May evening and we were on a walk. We were excited and ready. Usually, I find when I’m feeling extreme happiness, there’s an opposing, anchoring feeling that pulls-almost like the happiness casts a light bright enough to emphasize a swelling darkness. I wasn’t happy in my job. I loved my school at the time, the people I worked with, its mission, and that it set out to be different from other schools. I loved that it worked to end cycles of poverty and build up communities. It was the epitome of everything I thought I wanted in a career. 

I was wrong. I said to Justin, “Do you ever feel like you’re headed in the right direction but you’re a few streets over and you’re not getting to your destination and you’re running out of fuel?” Through the trees and the brambles are cracks of light and you know there’s peace. Oddly, you feel the call and pull of a serene shoreline with soft waves meeting the sun-warmed sand even though you’ve had these tsunami dreams. 

I’m now 37. 37!!! And combating the feeling that I’m slowly dying and that life/pure enjoyment is receding quickly…because I’m trapped on this wheel. My dad was lost to that feeling and the thought of getting stuck on that path where you know there’s more but you can’t seem to get there, pervades every thought I have. I know that wave is growing off in the distance. Which makes me all the more confused by my pull to that calm beach. Is it a trick? If I finally make it through those trees keeping me on my path, will I just be swept away into the depths of the ocean?    

I think I’ve realized that I’m not afraid of dying, I’m afraid of living. Of taking a chance that could upend everything. But. Justin and I struggled significantly to have our son Miles. He is now nearly two and I lose my breath thinking about how quickly time is passing. Now, all I want is for him to grow up and to be as true to himself as possible so that he always feels energized by life and opportunity. By being himself, enjoying life, and being kind and thoughtful, I want him to shine light on others so they feel the brightness. 

His capacity for experiencing the amazing wonders of this life starts with us. I know I need to be true to myself to show him how important it is. How important is it? 

It’s Life AND Death  

We will die. We cannot control this fact but we can try to live in a way that makes the most of what we are given. We can live intentionally, to the best of our ability, and make connections through our most authentic essence. My hope is that this blog is a guide for others to be able to recognize their own true essence. Leading with authenticity and truth is what we are here for. I know it in my bones. 

So, a mantra. I need one mantra to help remind me of all the good stuff I’m learning in my own mediation practice. So, when I’m consumed by the fear of losing time, of dying without fully living, I can come back “to” with a sense of clarity and awe of the moment I do have, so as not to miss out on the gifts I have been given all around me. On this path, the one with the brambles and light teasing through the trees, if I look around, I can notice how the same light makes the green of the canopy of trees above seem to glow against the perfectly blue sky. I can be aware of the scent of the earth under my feet and the rustling of life around me. I can stop to take a deep breath or even do some yoga to regain energy and flexibility needed to continue on this beautiful path with renewed intention to cut it left and clear a path to that calm, promising beach. I can strive for better while also not missing out.   

It’s Both. 

There are two mantras I am drawn to but neither, alone, seems to be “it”. The first is, “Let it Go” and the other is “Go With the Flow”. I suppose I could just switch between the two as needed but then I get lost in the semantics and overthink. So it occurred to me, in a saturating, enriching, and somewhat comical way, “Maybe it’s both”. Maybe I don’t have to put so much effort into “Letting things go” before I can “Go with the Flow”. I believe there is an unfolding that’s happening as it should. I’m processing things naturally. In going through these motions as they flow, maybe the wave begins to just level out.  

In one of my wave dreams, I decided to just dive in even though I was terrified. I melded into or sort of dissolved into the wave and felt an adrenaline like thrill. I faced the fear and that was great, but it wasn’t the answer. I came out and the wave was still there and waiting, although I certainly had a different perspective of it. It wasn’t as scary as I anticipated it would be. I went with the flow, but I wasn’t letting it go. When I went into the wave, I had every intention of coming back out. I had no intention of going into the depths of it. Maybe I thought I could trick it into leaving. Good try.  

I have found that the only way to let go of a fear is to go through it. I just don’t know what lies in the depths of that dark ocean. I do know that the sting of losing time sometimes feels incapacitating. Maybe. Maybe it doesn’t have to be so hard? Maybe I’m making it hard by avoiding facing the fear or thinking I need to subject myself to it. It will be uncomfortable to face this fear, but I don’t think it will be as bad as I’m making it out to be. I’m realizing that I don’t need to push myself into pain in a punitive or forceful way. Maybe facing the fear is letting the natural unfolding happen in its own time.      

Did you know that jellyfish, when out of water, will dissolve? Jellies aren’t forcing themselves on the shore to understand or face their fear. I don’t need to drop myself in the middle of the ocean to see if I can make it out, either. I think facing the fear can arise in its own time.                      

Here’s an excerpt from my meditation journal one year ago when I was still pumping for Miles in the middle of the night and was too tired to meditate upright afterward. Instead, I would lay in bed and focus on how my body felt as I drifted to sleep. The next morning I would record what I remembered while in my sleepy meditative state. I remember disliking the approach of focusing on the breath because it didn’t feel right to me and constantly wondering if I was “doing it right”. When I tried to control it with recommended counting techniques, I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath.      

Thoughts from My Meditation Journal: 

Wednesday 6/1/2023 4:00am 

I focused on the sounds outside my window and wondered if this approach was aversion. I 

don’t know the right answer or the “right” way to meditate but that’s ok. I’m going to figure it out as I go.  

“Let it go with the flow” 

I focused on how my body felt. I felt good. The sheets on the bed felt soft. It was warm outside and I could breathe the fresh air with the windows open. I was aware of my breath but not manipulating it in any way to try to do it right. Maybe that’s what they mean when they say to be aware of your breath! You don’t need to adjust it in any way. Let it go with the flow. 

Takeaway: I feel grateful to be here and to be ok. Suffering is unavoidable, however, and I know I need to accept that. Even if I think I have accepted it, I’m still actively avoiding my own suffering to some degree. When I stop resisting or forcing, maybe peace and calm will naturally surface. I hope I can continue to “let it go with the flow”.