Life is unpredictable.
I had planned for this post to be about foam-rolling, and though that will be coming soon, it will not be coming today. As I sat down to write this blog post, I found that my heart was somewhere else. So, I decided to loosely follow the direction of my heart, as writing about anything that is not my raw, unfiltered experience would be a disservice to both you and I.
Today, I want to talk about nothingness.
I have a really hard time being still. And no, I promise its not because I have attention deficit disorder. My fear resides in a more philosophical dwelling. The fear of “being” has plagued me for as long as I can remember. As a child, most of my nightmares consisted of not doing anything. And not doing anything consisted of not being “seen”, heard, or noticed. If others did not notice me, would I even exist? Furthermore, if I ceased to exist, what would I be? Would I be nothing?
To this day, my mind responds with silence.
And, I’m fearful of its silence too.
As a result, I have found safety and comfort in “doing.” Whether it’s going to school, maintaining activity at the gym, or simply attempting to keep up with the springing dynamic thoughts in my mind, I am always moving.
I have built a tenuous home in chaotic motion. I suppose, “doing” something all the time grants me some degree of disillusionment from my deepest and darkest fears; mobility serves as a relieving distraction from my ultimate fear of being still. Upon reflection, I suppose that I have equated “being” with nothingness. I am not exactly sure how, when or why that association was made, but somehow my neurons fired enough times to solidify the link between the two concepts.
Is “being” nothingness? If I am still, am I still there?
Stillness.
My mind does not care to respond.
I feel that ever-familiar gulp climbing up my throat; the nervous butterflies in my stomach are beginning to commence their anxious waltz. I am afraid. I don’t want to go there.
As a teenager, I invented drama where there was none. I thrived on intensity. I was never just “unhappy”, I was in painful anguish. I was never simply “satisfied”, I was in exuberant delight! Even ephemeral colds and flu’s seemed like cancer. I lived in great swoops of emotion. Up and down. Down and up. It made me feel something! It was a reminder that I was alive. I fretted that if I were simply “unhappy,” people wouldn’t notice or care. I had to create commotion to attain validation!
Only the stuff of soap operas gains attention, care and concern. Right?
Wrong.
At 19, I met my husband and we began the process of an arranged marriage. Don’t let our current state of contentment fool you. Our first 6 months felt like “misery” to me. In retrospect, I can identify that they were normalized and necessary adjustment points, but, of course, to me, Maham, the soap opera star, they felt like unadulterated agony. For those of you that don’t know, my husband is one of the most stable and satisfied people I have ever met. If I were a leaf blowing around with whichever direction of the wind, my husband was and is a sturdy boulder.
I remember the early parts of our relationship. Oh! I wanted him to love me with urgency and passion. I wanted our relationship to be a fabulous theatrical love story. I wanted all the elements of “The Notebook”, I wanted rage, grief, hope, ecstasy, longing—and I wanted all that every single day, for forever and always. Isn’t that what love is?
Isn’t love chaotic movement? If we are not wanting, longing, fighting and craving, what is left? What is left underneath all of that? Will love still be there? Or will it be nothing?
Do you see a common theme yet?
Once more, my fear of nothingness and stillness peeks its maniacal head out. And to some degree, it always will.
Contentment is unimaginable. Satisfaction is frightening. If our deepest selves are afraid of being still we will find a way to suffer being with another person, regardless of the nobility of their character.
But, here’s a troubling concept to ponder: Have I confused longing with love? Is love characterized by aching, wanting, and craving? Or are those characteristics of fleeting passion?
In terms of fitness, life, and relationships, I find that I, often, long for what I don’t have. I want more. I set goals, and I want to achieve them. After I’ve achieved them, I want to set more goals, and work towards achieving them. Though “wanting” is a necessary motivator for change and growth, is it also the birthplace of dissatisfaction and distress?
There is no rest in “wanting.” Craving does not allow room to foster love and acceptance. It cleverly avoids the existential fear of stillness—of NOT craving, of NOT wanting for things that we don’t have.
So what if we were to step back from our endless cycles of doing and overdoing, and doing again? What if we were to look at all that we do have, and love what we have accomplished thus far? What if we were to look at ourselves as whole beings, without wanting to change a thing—even if its just for a fleeting moment? How would that look like? How would that feel?
Dangerous.
Though my “ups” and “downs” are not as fierce and agonizing as they once were, I still struggle with the idea of stillness. I wrote this post because tonight, at 6:30 pm EST, I am taking my first yoga class after a dry spell of a few months.
I ceased my practice, as I became more and more afraid of what the mat brings out in me. It brings out comfort in being, it brings out acceptance for the present moment; it brings out satisfaction and contentment with simply being. But isn’t that exactly what I want?
Yes, and no.
It is exactly what I need. However, parts of me are still frightened of the concept of simply being. What I have learned is that peace and contentment are states of being that require practice. They don’t just come when you graduate college, get to your goal weight, or finish a workout regimen. They don’t magically appear in your new office, your new car, or your new job. They are feelings that require consistent practice to achieve.
I have come a long way since I was a teenager, and though, I still have heaps of room left for improvement, I want to take the time to truly appreciate how far I’ve come. I am thankful for my health, for my legs that can support me from one adventure to the next. I am thankful for my body and my heart; they adapt so beautifully to all the stressful changes life places on them. I am even thankful for my consistently fretting, and worrying mind; its desire to protect me is indomitable and truly admirable! I am thankful for all the little oddities, and imperfections in my soul and appearance. I know that weaknesses are just strengths in the wrong environment.
And, just like that, I’m a little less scared.
Because what if I’m wrong?
What if, behind all that wanting, doing, craving, longing, fighting, dieting, exercising, studying, analyzing, and criticizing, there is something. Perhaps, behind the endless “doing”, there is EVERYTHING. Perhaps, underneath stillness, there is a place that is truly ALIVE with peaceful satisfying gratitude.
Perhaps, you and I can find endless freedom there.
❤
PS- I would love it if you commented and let me know that I’m not the only one who feels this way or share your biggest fears with me ;P
abidmaham 