Further Up and Further In

On Sunday, I'm looking forward to getting into my car and turning on the radio.

You see, about 40 days ago I had this it-seemed-brilliant-at-the-time idea that it would be spiritually beneficial to give up all noise in the car. The thought was that since I often distract myself with NPR and sing-along-songs, if I didn't have them, I would have nothing to do but meditate, pray, center myself, commune with the universe. And that would give me at least two 45 minute times per week where I did nothing but all this wonderful, soul-improving work.

But I'm not so cool as all that. I wish that I was the sort of person who, when faced with silence, did nothing but turn her attention to her soul and God and the needs of others. Because I want very much to be that person. I know people like that and find myself astonished and admiring by them. But when I found myself in the silence, I found, more often than not, my only thoughts were about myself. And those people directly affecting me. And all situations that I would be in that day. Sometimes, I even found myself thinking about situations that I'd handled badly mere hours or even days before. I had plenty of time to catalogue my own mistakes, missteps, and bonehead moments. Welcome the mild obsession.

I've found, over the last few years, that I am like that old movie The Three Faces of Eve. I am usually inwardly and outwardly laid-back about most daily grind kind of things (Eve White), but then, there are a few that I get in my head and can't stop focusing on (Eve Black, sort of). For instance, I'm taking care of a stray white poodle right now while other friends and I look for a new home for her. She's a sweet dog, but she's had diarrhea for the last day and a half and now, our carpet is covered with small splotches of carpet cleaner and remnant stains. And I've been thinking about it and gritting my teeth over it when really, it doesn't matter because we have a guy coming to professionally clean our carpets today. This is mild obsession at its worst -- thinking about what is already under control.

This is a rather new experience for me, actually. As I get older, I find myself more and more often feeling this type of stress. It's a sucky, black-hole experience and I'd be glad to forgo it. I don't think, though, no matter how much you pray or meditate or tell yourself that you're ultimately out-of-control anyway, that you ever forgo your own bodily and/or emotional makeup. Or maybe I'm just not there yet. So I'm stuck with me and the clingy webs of reptitive details and, for the last month and a half, I've been doing this more often than not because it's either that or watch how incredibly slow LA traffic can be.

Solitude is a discipline that I've always been okay with, but never silence. I'm okay with being minus a plus-one because my own inner monologue has always been so active. As a child, I was sort of lost in my own head most of the time, writing the details of what was happening around me (and yes, sometimes rewriting with delusions of grandeur), and at some point, I think I just got used to hearing my own voice all the time. My thoughts have turned on me, though; instead of friendly narration, there's now hyperlinking between concerns of how I'm handling all aspects of my life. Damn you, adulthood and responsibility cluttering my imagination.

I guess the funny thing that I've walked away from this experience with is two-fold. One is a better knowledge of myself. Obviously, this is the point of any discipline -- self-awareness and thus, more perspective. I see myself a bit more clearly, I think, and while I may not want to, this is clearly a good thing. And two is a realization of the sanctity of NPR. No really. Cutting NPR out of my life, even for forty days, has really turned my focus inward. What I thrive on, what I gain energy from, oddly enough, is extending out and hearing about people all over the country, nee the world -- it continually pulls me out of my own skin, exposes me to newness and thus, I grow. I learn. I cry with other people and laugh a little bit, too. While the same thing happens at church, NPR is with me daily in my car. It's a form of the great commandment, to love others as yourself and when I'm aware of what's going on out there, I'm excited, grieved, empathetic, and above all, more concerned about the world around me instead of the world within me.