Disorderly Conduct

When I am unable to focus I bug my friends. Why I think sharing ‘disorderly mind’ bouncing in 237 directions is fun for them, is beyond them.  Oops, I meant, beyond me.  Okay, I wish I meant it.  Does that count?

In dressage lingo, I’m doing a wildly disorganized shoulder-in on 4 tracks.  I’m falling in.  I’m falling out.  I’m not tracking up.  I’m behind the bit.  I’m not coming through, and I’m failing the relaxation and rhythm levels on the pyramid.  I can’t stand myself in this state.  Naturally this makes me want to share it with everyone I know.

I call Daisy: ” So how’s the haircut?”

Deep sigh.  “I don’t know.  It’s TOMORROW, remember?”

This is probably the 3rd time Daisy’s told me.  Last Saturday I asked her to take the clip out of her hair so I could see her new do, and she said, “I did color today.  Haircut’s on Tuesday.  Remember?

Uh…no.  Any day now I expect her to ask me how many fingers she’s holding up, and who the president is.  I change the subject.

“I can’t believe Christmas is the day after tomorrow…I haven’t even wrapped anything yet.  How did this happen?!?”

“Christmas isThursday. Today is Monday.  Christmas, therefore, is NOT the day after tomorrow.”

Oh.  Well that helps.  I think.  Maybe.  Shouldn’t it?

Daisy isn’t being mean, BTW.  This is part of my help-with-clarity & reality training.  Which she doesn’t know she’s signed up for, exactly.  I’ll have to tell her some day.

Okay let’s call Lillian.  I have a billion things to do and I have a cold.  I don’t feel good.   That should qualify me for end-of-the-world, drop-life-as-you-know-it  intervention status, don’t you think?  Right.

Lilli doesn’t pick up her cell.  I re-check her earlier email.  Oh yeah, she’s going right from work to the soup kitchen, then has to deliver the clothes she collected for the homeless, ride both her horses, driving 2 hours each way to do it, and is welded to three pagers, because she’s a surgeon.  I know she got up at 4am to bake bread so the elderly women on her block have a present on Christmas morning, went to the gym, then went to work, which is harrowing on a daily basis.  She probably won’t hit the sack until Midnight.  And I’m going to call her up to about my horrible suffering with the sniffles while she’s driving?  Uh. No.

I try to remember this when my finger twitches toward the cell phone. Do Not Call Anyone.  Put the Drama Down.  Back Away From the Drama.  You do NOT need to share your self-inflicted drama with the rest of the world.

I don’t even like drama.  Not in real life.  Too messy.

I’m off and out of sorts, and I want to whine about it.  I have to keep reminding myself:  you may NOT bring your worst self to share.  It’s like bringing Lima beans to a potluck.

(Trust me, it’s not like they don’t know this part of me.)

I have a responsibility in friendship, especially at such a stressful time of year, to carry myself.  Half-halt: it’s what we do with our horses, right?  Hold and redirect the energy.  We do it together: the horse carries himself, and I carry myself.  The goal is to do it with as much mutual balance and connection as possible.  It all translates, if I pay attention.  I can’t forget to watch where I’m going with my loved ones.  In dressage you have to sight your goal(s) and constantly adjust.  In the words of one of my trainers, where you look is where you go.

Repeating this makes it easier to put down the phone, and pick up the to-do list.  Where I look is where I go. Time to look at the vacuum cleaner.

Copyright © 2009. The Literary Horse. All rights reserved.
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