January 21, 2024
It was Sunday morning, and we slept in until almost 6 AM. The temperature was an icy 17 degrees, but somehow it didn’t feel so bad, standing out in the dark, watching the stars, waiting for the dogs to do their business. I came inside to warm myself with a cup of hot coffee. After, my wife studied while I spent the dark morning hours editing photographs in Lightroom.
Once the sun came up, my wife made her Sunday morning rounds of grocery shopping. I don’t mind going with her, but this is something she likes to do alone, and early, before any crowds gather in Wilson. I always use this space, feeling appreciative that I don’t need to go into town. This morning I did a workout, practiced the guitar, and then wrote for about an hour.
Once my wife returned home, we put away the groceries and had a small snack. Then, my wife sat down to hit the books, while I knocked out another two hours of writing. At midday, the temperature had only risen to the mid-twenties, but we took a break and hit the trails at Lake Wilson. When we arrived, the weather was still cold, but the sun was shining, and the wind was more forgiving than the prior evening.
During our walk, we fell into deep conversation. My wife expressed she was under a lot of stress and that her anxiety levels were high. She was in the fourth week of her current rotation, always a hard week; she had a tough exam approaching, and she was about to leave town for a month on her next rotation. Our immune systems were already compromised because we were sick last week. These things were aggregating and affecting us.
We talked about anxiety and how it seemed to blossom when our mind got wrapped up in rumination about the past or future. There were things in the past that our mind did not want to repeat and, thus, we were always guarding ourselves against some imagined future. These projections were usually negative and worst-case scenarios, which created more anxiety and more negative thoughts that spiral out of control. We found our minds working overtime to solve problems that didn’t actually exist, issues that, to our primal brain, felt like a matter of life and death.
Fixing the mind’s tendency to flee the present moment isn’t easy. Although humans can make intelligent decisions, overcoming instinctual behaviors can be really hard. This kind of endeavor takes practice, hard work, and a willingness to trust the process. One of the first things to realize, we surmised, was the undeniable truth that being stuck in the past or future does little to solve any problems. In fact, the only time we have influence is in the here and now.
The mind has a way of leaving the present moment without our noticing. Being aware when we disconnect, then, becomes an important skill. There is, however, an easy way to find the present moment. It is the place where the body is located. Our minds can drift to the past or future, but our body is stuck, and thankfully so, in the present moment.
When we return to the present, we have the power to do something about our problems. We can put in more effort toward an actual solution. Of course, this is where the work is, and sometimes our minds would rather drift off than sit there while you put in the physical labor. It’s easy to understand, however, that taking action to solve a problem and taking no action because you’re busy worrying about the problem are two distinct paths. The problem is that if you don’t choose your path, then your mind will usually choose for you.
The last topic we discussed was how most of our anxiety or worry stemmed from betrayed expectations. When our expectations did not align with reality, then all our decisions and actions produced results that differed from what we intended. So, while most of us are focused on making the best decisions we can, very few people take the time to think about the rules these decisions are based on. All our decisions were based on how we thought they would affect an outcome; on our understanding of how the world worked.
When our expectations produce positive results, then we can say our understanding of reality was accurate. If, however, our expectations constantly fall short, then we can assert that they did not align with the way life operates. For me, this is the foundation of wisdom, going through life, adjusting expectations until they align with reality. If you do this, then the decisions you make will produce better results. This is what intelligence is, the ability to make an educated guess, go out and test it, and then update your knowledge based on trial and error. Unfortunately, when people get negative results from their decisions, they often just blame themselves, feeling unlucky or inadequate, never realizing their solutions didn’t match the actual problem.
The talk was productive, and the walk renewed our sense of getting back to working harder and smarter. The geese amazed me with their ability to weather the cold, seemingly unfazed by the waters, even though the edges of the pond had frozen, looking like a small beach made of ice. A large cardinal hopped about on the frozen water, picking at seeds, while a small wren picked up small sticks for its nest. A blue heron, usually quick to take flight when it sees me, seemed confident that I was not going into the frigid water to get him. He stood there stoically.
In the evening, I took the trash, toting Axel along. It was his first ride in the front seat as a lone passenger, so it took a bit for him to settle. The seat probably felt too small, but he was excited to be out. When we arrived back home, I took a walk into the woods. Although most of the deer corn was gone, there were still a few piles left. I continued through the bare woods, noting how empty they had become. It looked like the whole place was on standby, just waiting for spring to arrive. A part of the southern creek stream had frozen, reflecting the colors of the trees and sunset, its crystalline surface fracturing them like a broken mirror. It was the close of another perfect weekend.