The science of unlearning
I am in a waiting room. Life has hit pause. I can either distract myself with minutiae of the moment, or use my (geek) power to slow down and reflect. Explore.
THINK. Have you heard the story of a young monk who, in search of wisdom, climbed to a top of a mountain to meet an elderly guru? And all that he heard from the guru was either everything he already knew, or some thoughtful questions but no real answers? Isn't the wisdom at a top of a mountain what we already brought with us? Aren't questions simply a set of signposts to a destination within?
I grew up believing that moments of peace and lukewarm satisfaction are just intervals between the inevitable doom of misfortune and oppression. That I am there on my own, lonely, somewhat powerless. That things happen to me. That other cannot simply be trusted.
It was a long journey to even understand how such mindset triggered how I felt, and my ability to perform. Even longer journey to start changing the engraved behaviours and self-perceptions. Rewiring and rewriting feels like cycling uphill and against the strong wind. You want to get off the bike and lie down the ground. But when one gets across the top, the euphoria is overflowing. At least until we get to the bottom of another hill. While there is never a shortage of climbs on your route, the muscle memory builds up.
Sometimes learning is simply unlearning.
FEEL. I feel somewhat anxious. I am heading into a couple of days of annual leave. I have been working harder than usual in the last few months and I can feel how the fatigue has crept in and settled. It feels completely appropriate to take a few days off, let alone the silliness of losing the days at the break of the year. And yet, the crisis of abundance dilemma hits me hard.
If there is one freedom I must have forfeited, it is the freedom of wasting time without guilt. We all craft self-stories. We reinforce and repeat parts of it, try some personas on, blur the lines between the original and the invention. Gradually becoming a somewhat different character. Apparently, part of my self-myth is built on restlessness.
It strikes me how this is another area to unlearn!
I am looking at the photo taken on a weekend evening. In a comfort of a family couch, we are all watching an episode of 'The Big Bang Theory'. We laugh, comment, interpret situations. Relate to the characters. At the same time Spike, one of our dogs, has made himself visibly comfortable on an armchair. He is observing us. Giving us his undivided attention. Suddenly, we feel like a centre of his universe. It is so easy to miss these moments!
Paying attention pays off.
DO. I feel I am in many waiting rooms, a lot of the time. Right now, I am cheering for my twelve-year-old son in his second ever Pokémon Card Game tournament. Crowded room full of alike geeks.
I am certain we will be up against some difficult emotions. For starters, every single player is at least twice his age. Everyone seems very versed in tricks, techniques, and general Pokémon lore. This is a classic David and Goliath tale. My David has his backpack, a deck of cards, bottle of water and a Pokémon t-shirt.
And then I start noticing. He is not afraid to start the conversation with an opponent. He is curious. As much as he gets frustrated with a few initial lost battles, he discharges negative load, strives to regain composure, and comes back to play another round. I am his coach on the side, but I have little clue about moves, abilities, supporters, or evolutions. I am there to tell him I believe in him.
Sometimes this is all a person needs.
