The first big choice to make today was either to go to practice yoga or do “other things” before I go to work. The “other things” is a list of activities that aren’t part of my weekday routine. These are “other” fun things that feed my soul: read, write, play music, bake a pie, meditate and take the dog for a long walk. I skipped the yoga class. Later, when I was wiping away the flour dust and blueberry stains from the kitchen counter I smiled, because I recognized that I made the right choice.
That feeling of knowing is intuition. I can habitually and easily destroy this gift of intuition when I’m way too much in my head calculating the minutes and hours of the day, dividing the day with allocations of how much time I can spend on the to do list. I’ve recognized that it can be a form obsessive compulsive disease to always be on top of my to-do list (checking it and checking it twice and checking it some more not just to put check marks and cross marks, but ensuring I’ve got everything in the list.)
This is not my natural way, by the way. I’m not a list person, nor am I the person to print the directions from Mapquest. I’m more the person to get an overview of the direction and area that I’m supposed to be at, then I’ll use my nose to find the spot. Indeed, I’m hardly on time, and exact in getting to my destination, because I end up discovering different roads and stopping to ask people for directions before I find my spot. If you’re not that kind of a traveler then you wouldn’t want to be travelling with me.
I know I can be more balanced if I was more organized and orderly, but I like the practice of using my sense of direction and intuition to guide me. I attribute many of my wonderful experiences in life to my “adventurous” and devil-may-care approach to certain things. It’s not uncommon that the “unlikely” and “illogical” choice is the right choice on many occasions in my life so far.
But I agonize over making decisions and choices. When I went for my computer science degree there was a point when I had to specialize. I would guess that 60% of the class chose the option that would guarantee the best probability of getting employed upon graduation; the other 35% chose their area that was best suited for their interest and aptitude while the remaining 5% (which I’m part of) did not really choose an option. But I did make a logical choice this way. My option was “Decision Systems”. It was about linear programming, and I thought “Ok, this is the one for me, because this will give the tools I need to make better decisions in life.” The last laugh was on me, because the curriculum was heavy on statistics and linear programming and calculations, which is opposite to my nature.
But it was possibly what I needed, because my computer programming career provided me with the means to have shelter and food, plus other amenities. But having “blueberry pie” moments is equally necessary to fulfill my soulful needs, and gave me the sustenance to hope and dream as we all do during the festive holiday season with its lights, decorations, music and all-around cheer.
Most of the year and throughout the days I live in the practical world to survive; and rarely heed the small voice that asks to be heard. As I read in one of my treasure trove books, “what good is a voice if no one is listening to it?” It is only during this season that I relax a little more to restore a balance of slowing down and listening. So now I’m open to giving more consideration to that little voice that pipes up, “Hey, let’s make blueberry pie, and forget about rushing off to the studio and feeling great after a good sweat.”
Being in the midst of the end-of-the-year holidays, it is the period of observing traditions of rites and rituals that convey significances of the passing of time. The observance of these rituals can be a mixture of being automatic and heart-felt, or one or the other. As a child, my memories of Christmas were the rites of getting a tree, decorating it, and afterwards watching with wonder the flicker of lights in different colors. It was this precious wonder that I want to preserve for all my Christmases. The wonder is a knowing that All Is Good. It is the intuitive knowing hope lives. And choosing to be open to possibilities rather than calculating probabilities, which is the more expansive experience that deepens our soulfulness.
