Presence: Coffee, Ink, Phone, and Weight

This morning's coffee is good. I'm savoring each sip, paying attention, giving it real focus, feeling content. Yesterday, I thought like this about eating instead of my usual reactions to desire, instead of battling with myself. I felt each desire for food and let them roll over me, waiting until I truly felt hungry before eating. Even not eating tasted good.

Halfway through my first Morning Page, the pen ran dry. I refilled it without thinking much about when I'll finish the bottle of ink. I'm only a third of the way into the bottle, so thinking of finishing is premature and blows past the moment. Finishing ink has been a symbol for me of learning the new job, but I won't ever finish learning that. I'm in a middle ground with ink left in the bottle and a rhythm of learning by doing. I'll use ink and learn today. I'm already using ink and learning. The ink will run dry when it runs dry. For sure.

I'm less sure about replacing my phone which is developing glitches. Google will soon announce new phones. I'm curious but keep going round and round about whether to buy. I recall two ideas: wait thirty days before buying and use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without. What's the problem then? I wait. But the child-me wants a new toy now. He refuses to wait. His desire knocks me off balance, forgetting that I'm largely content despite the phone's glitches. Can I respond to child-me rather than reacting to his desires? Right now, yes. Worrying about what I'll do tomorrow seems child-like in other ways.

This morning, I weighed just under 220. For months I've battled my weight, with myself to get below 220 and today immediately thought about losing five, ten, fifteen and more pounds, rejecting the present in favor of some imagined future happiness. That kind of heavy thinking gains me nothing but more weight. As child-me ran ahead this morning, I somehow stayed on the scale, nodding at who I was in that moment, trying to savor the taste of who I am.

The coffee is warm now, no longer hot. I sip and hold it on my tongue. It is good enough and then some. That's not a bad metaphor for this moment in which I'm living.

Lease On Life Data

I'm reading the Center's lease with the City of Syracuse. Riveting stuff, right? I need to compare it with the new lease we're receiving this week and identify any differences. The weird thing is I kind of enjoy reading it. I want to know everything about the place and this is an opportunity to study and learn.

This three-day-weekend I've been considering balance in my life. It's not a scale with two pans. It's more like an Alexander Calder's hanging mobile, the rods and colored plates balanced from a single point in the ceiling. The plates include learning the job; being a father, husband, son, brother, and friend; writing; reading; being physically, mentally, and emotionally well; and whatever I'm not balancing at the moment.

I've come to my basement nook to do some work prior to returning to the Center tomorrow but after only two pages I realized my back had stiffened and my right arm hurt. Weird. I've been fine all day. What's up?

One project I finished today was Barry Magid's Ending The Pursuit Of Happiness. Magid is a Zen teacher and psychoanalyist and his book encouraged me to be open to the present, to name my thoughts, and, though he didn't mention this, to inventory how my body feels in the moment.

And that's almost the end of that practice for me right now. There may be something important to glean from it, but tonight it's just this: "hey, maybe loosen up while you read the lease, Bri."

Ah, enlightenment.

Having finished Magid, I'm back to reading Jim Collins' [Good To Great](https://www.jimcollins.com/article_topics/articles/good-to-great.html. My guess is that leading an organization to greatness or maintaining greatness and building on it, will require attention to data. I can learn to be better at that.

Tonight, I gathered this data: I'm making myself sore reading the lease. I don't know yet what to do with that other than take deep breaths, stretch, and walk while I read. The data suggests that something is out of balance. I haven't identified what, but the Calder mobile hangs down on one side, the other side pushed against the ceiling. I'm unsure what correction to make.

But I have two data points and I'll collect more. If a pattern makes itself clear, I'll have something on which to act. For now, I'm gathering data and considering moving, adding, or removing a piece of the mobile.

Right now though, I'm going to finish reading the lease while walking in the yard. I'll stretch my back and arms, shake out my shoulders, and be sure to breathe deep. It won't do to become crippled right now. The lease goes for five more years and I expect to be there every day of that.

Alarms & Practice

Last night my body sounded alarms through a thumping headache and my twisted body. I felt absent, lost in myself. Looking down, I saw my belly, large and protruding. I looked and felt other than I want to be.

This led me to ask, isn't the first step to accept how I am and show myself kindness and understanding? A kind of answer came in remembering the Zen idea that we are all perfect exactly as we are, but that's no excuse not to do the dishes.

I'm doing well at work, learning and coping, developing systems, and coming to understand myself in the job, but this has come at the expense of my wellness. I've so far been unable to balance worrying about being good enough for the job and my health even though I'm better at work when I'm healthier.

Much as I want to snap my fingers and be better, that's not how things work. Instead I'm committing to small adjustments: drinking thoughtfully, returning to decaf, and realizing that sugar is a drug. I'm not giving up alcohol, caffeine, or sugar, but I want to be thoughtful about them. This is me doing the dishes.

Moving my body is essential and energizing, but I'm too tired. I just want to relax, maybe sleep. Instead, I put my feet flat on the floor, sit up straight, tuck in my chin, close my eyes, let my hands rest in my lap, and take three belly breaths. It doesn't release everything, but I felt where I'm tight and can be thoughtful about those things now. That's good practice.

Practice doesn't need to _do_ anything I can point to. Practicing without expectation, practicing in the moment without concern for what I may or may not do tomorrow is an act of balancing.

I have to breathe anyway. Why not make some of them into a practice? Just as with writing, just as when I took my wife's hand as we walked Syracuse's Regional Market this morning, the practice feels good as an end in itself.

Last night's alarms had been warning lights I ignored for weeks as I reacted to other things. I'd prefer responding to reacting. I don't have a solid plan or system in place yet. I just have these practices. I don't hear alarms right now, but I sense the soft tone of a bell, one calling me to close my eyes and breathe, calling me to practice, balance, and acceptance. I'll follow it.

Woke Anxious, Walked To Work

This morning I woke anxious, afraid. I read the news and moved toward panic. What if he steals the election? What if no one stands up to him? What if this is the end?

I sound paranoid, pathetic, whining like a child, but that's how I felt this morning. That's the accurate reporting of the beginning of my day.

Then I walked to work listening to a podcast. Two wise people counseling me, prompting good thinking in me. I walked two miles across town one step at a time.

At the office I poured a cup of cold water and sipped, turned on the air and wiped my sweaty brow, unpacked my bag and sat at the desk to begin my day's work.

I'm still worried. I'll admit that. But I have work to do. In three months I'll vote. I'm giving money to candidates in whom I believe. I'm writing these words. I'm sipping the water and have walked across town listening to smart people offering help. And I'm starting in on the work needing to be done. Good work that will help others.

And help me. To believe. To hope. To keep going.