Stagnation

when breathing feels like drowning

Rest-less

Yesterday I walked my dog at 5 a.m.
A barely-there breeze curled sweet
and quiet
and calm.
The air was warm, yet movement offered
a freshness,
a vitality at dawn.

Today we walked at 4:30.
I do not sleep well.
Stagnant air fell with great weight
on my shoulders,
thick enough to see
the hazy~heavy~murky,
steamy wisps lurking on the path.

A shift.
We will stay inside today.

Heat

It is unbearably uncomfortable outside. I cannot stand feeling hot and I feel like I’ve been burning up for months now. I know that my discomfort is not entirely due to the 98 degree temperature, as I have just closed the door on one of my most disquieting school years. I am in desperate need of a break.

But the break is here. It has arrived. It began at 3:00 on June 14th and today is the 23rd and my head is still swimming with frustrations and doubts and disappointments.

Last month, I optimistically dubbed this elusive season as ‘My Summer of Writing.’ Yet somehow I feel encapsulated in this spinning, oily-rainbow bubble of maybe this, maybe that, no, not this way, this first, no, first that, never mind, I’ll go for a walk, NO, it’s stifling HOT out there, can’t do that, what’s on Netflix?

Oily-Rainbow Bubble

That’s the image in my mind. Remember when we were kids and we would blow bubbles in the yard? We would chase them around in circles or whichever way the wind would carry them. Not a care in the world, no thoughts in our heads other than frolicking after bubbles in the breeze.

And if it was a sunshiny day, Oh, how they would glisten and shimmer in the light as they floated along just out of reach, evoking shrieks and giggles of delight from deep within our bellies.

And remember? If we were lucky enough to catch a bubble, more than likely it would burst instantly beneath the pressure of our eager little hands.

BUT, if we were patient and thoughtful in our approach, if we moved slowly as if we were taking on the spirit of the breeze itself, then maybe we were able to slide that pink plastic stick with the open circle at the end, the bubble WAND we called it! Maybe we were able to let the bubble lightly touch down on the wand as our eyes expanded into saucers and we held our breath to make the moment last a hair longer.

And then, remember what the bubble would do? Perched upon the wand, it would begin to swirl and the rainbow colors within the orb would intensify with each swirling swirl and then it would…POP!

But we were OK with that, because we had caught our prize, the floaty and free and delicate and mystical bubble had been ours for a sweetly fleeting moment in time. In all of its oily-rainbow bubbleness.

Photo by Braedon McLeod on Unsplash

Bubble Catcher

And so, I am re-naming my elusive season. Instead of ‘My Summer of Writing,’ I will have a ‘Summer of Bubble Catching.’

I will welcome each sunshiny day, regardless of the heat. I will keep my saucer-eyes as open as possible to all the glistening and shimmering ideas and opportunities. And when they float just outside of my reach, I will invite shrieks and giggles of delight in anticipation of the next bubble appearing.

And if by chance I catch a bubble, preferably an oily-rainbow one containing some wise and wonderful writing, then I will take care to resist the pressure of eagerness. I will be patient and thoughtful in my approach, and I will move slowly as if taking on the spirit of the breeze itself.

And then maybe, just maybe, if I breathe even and easy, I will be able to hold that bubble on my wand gently and with grace enough to burst the stagnation that troubles me today.

Coaching Questions

-Do you experience stagnation in your work or life?
-Are you able to identify the cause of your stagnation?
-What does stagnation feel like/look like for you?
-How might you afford yourself some grace in these times?
-What 3 actions will you commit to as you give yourself a break?

Stagnation-Busters?

I am curious about the stagnation-busters that you find helpful. My typical tools involve walking, yoga, meditation, reading, or talking a problem through with my dog, Annie. She’s a very good listener. But when life feels especially thick and heavy, what works for you?