This past weekend, I was at Nurture for the ninth (!) time. It’s one of my life’s great privileges that I get to be part of this retreat every year, and I always leave with something new. This time, as I walked the labyrinth, I had an insight that is both incredibly obvious and also quite profound. I am not entirely sure I know the answers yet, but I feel like at least now I’m asking the right questions.
The insight was this: I can’t think my way to self-care, I have to feel my way there. I told you: somewhat obvious, no? But somehow I have missed this lesson, somewhere along the way. And despite how it sounds, it’s not as easy (at least for me) as it might seem. You see, much of my self-care has (until now) been slightly more on the utilitarian side. Practical. Evidence-based! Well-researched! Optimized! And also…maybe not the stuff I really need.
Take, for instance, my habit last year of going to the free open swim session at our local pool on Monday nights. I had a lot of positive thoughts about this habit: It’s so close by! It’s a great form of exercise! I really do love swimming! I’ll feel good afterwards! A winter swimmer is the kind of person I want to be, especially after reading Wintering by Katherine May!
In reality, I think that maybe I actually sort of hated it a lot of the time. I remember realizing one night, after being hit by a stray pool noodle, after the umpteenth preteen kept obliviously blocking my way, that this whole thing was ridiculous. Sure, it was free, and sure, it was at a very convenient time, and sure, I really do love swimming, but wow: this was annoying. And cold! And loud! And chaotic! The feelings I was actually having didn’t fully align with the thoughts I was having about the experience. The narrative didn’t match the real experience.
Another example: I realized recently (with great surprise) that I actually don’t like our couch. To be clear, I thought that I loved our couch! It’s pink velvet, and it’s adorable, and it makes me happy to look at. It has a whole hilarious backstory to it, including the fun tidbits that a) we got it for free, b) we got to tour an epic mid-century modern mansion when we picked it up, and c) years later, I found an identically matching chair for $14 to complement it perfectly. And yet: this couch is not that comfortable! It LOOKS great. I have a lot of great THOUGHTS about it. But sitting on it is not really the best experience. It’s not great for lounging. It’s not great for cuddling. It’s….not that great.
I think you’re seeing the theme here. I’m a logical person, and I’m very type A. I want things to make sense and be well-researched and smart and logical. Apparently, I had not realized, that has come to include much of my self-care practices and decisions in general. For instance, I know that meditation and movement and gratitude practices are good for me, but do they truly feel good for me in the ways I’m doing them right now? I might be writing out a gratitude list, but does it really make me happier or am I just going through the motions? I might enjoy watching a YouTube channel because it’s interesting or “inspiring”, but how does it actually make me feel afterwards? Everyone says baths are amazing, but can I be honest with myself that I always get simultaneously cold and overheated, and don’t really enjoy them very much?!
Here’s my takeaway: if I want to feel more alive, I can’t just keep asking myself, “what will make me feel more alive?”. My brain has all kinds of thoughts and ideas and answers, but I don’t think I want my brain’s answers. My brain has a five-step plan to try to feel more of the things I want, but I don’t think I want a plan. I just want more goodness that actually feels good. Hilariously though, I don’t quite know how to do this. It feels to me a bit like a zen koan, which maybe just shows how far I still have to go.
But I do know this: it starts with paying attention to my moment-by-moment experience in the present. How does this feel? And this? And this? When do I feel lit up? When do I laugh most? When do I feel achey? Right now, my right heel hurts from the way I have my legs crossed on the table and my upper back is sore from my neck position being on my laptop on this godforsaken couch. I just moved. It’s better. I lit candles tonight, they’re lovely. I felt like writing, and it was nice to write.
One feeling at a time.