The Power Off Switch

I seem to have mislocated mine.

In truth, I think I may have only gotten the go to sleep switch. And to be honest that is not exactly in stellar working condition either (especially having entered my mid-forties). There appears to be no off switch anywhere on my mental operating system.

Even if I can get one screen to close, three others pop up.

It’s sort of like the chipmunk holes on our property.

There are literally hundreds, everywhere. So, as believers in embracing what is (when we have had several nights of consecutive sleep) we decided to find the charm, accept the Swiss cheese grass and embrace our holiness. That’s when the big fat woodchuck set up camp in the front yard.

But, we embraced him too. However, the proliferation of thought sinkholes?

Just to be clear, I practically have a PhD in self-awareness. Well, attempted self-awareness.

I’ve completed forty weeks of a meditation-based Presence Process, over twenty years of therapy, metaphysical theology, past-life regressions, astrological charting, long-distance Reiki and screaming in cars while driving alone (this last part I think has been most helpful) So, it’s not like I don’t have the tools.

And yet, the thought turbine operates at full speed almost the time. This has the unfortunate effect of making people who are either, tired, sick, peaceful or not moving at warp speed seem slug-like, obstinate and intolerable. Just kidding. Mostly.

Anyway, part of the reason I rev so high, is mental, emotional overload.

I can masterfully handle three emergencies at once but not four. This past weekend, there have been like twenty-four. Not to mention waking up this morning with a heavy-duty movie hangover.

You know how there used to be speed-reading classes? Does anyone know of any emotional speed-processing classes?

We watched the Oscar nominated animated film Box Trolls last night and I am still turning over class themes, American Dream commentary, human rights undercurrents, historical connotations and personal existential implications.

Like a Lady Macbeth psychopath. Or ground-dwelling box troll chipmunk. It’s a lot to process.

Luckily, I have been thinking a good deal about the word process.

It is both something we do and something that does us.

We process feelings, thoughts and information. But, there is a certain process to grief, acceptance and forgiveness. It is both active and passive. A noun and a verb, and both at once.

In order to move through a process, there must be an ongoing active invitation. And in order to process a feeling, there must be an ongoing still embrace of truth. So the word process is always still and moving regardless of how we employ it.

That’s what I always seem to forget. I excel at the moving part. And I have improved greatly at the still part. It’s the intersection of this seemingly unlikely duality to which I must surrender.

I always forget surrender is not giving up but opening up.

It may not exactly be an off switch but it is kind of like a gone fishing or out to lunch sign.