February 8, 2016
Do you ever have those days? You know, the ones that lack that “get up and go?” Today, I feel my “get up and go, got up and went!” I’m not even good company for myself.
It reminds me when I had those kind of days in Prison. Staring at the bottom of my upper bunkie’s bed. Gray steel, with little holes in it. (I think the holes were for ventilation). The holes were a bit creepy, but I had nothing to do with the bunk bed design. Closing my eyes gave me a different lens at which I could choose my dreams.
With uncompromising determination, I decided I would not let any more of myself become captive of someone else, any policy or governmental establishment. I was empowered to understand the richness in manifesting my own thoughts. However, it took a willful desire, an appetite for understanding, and most importantly practice, practice and more practice.
When my thoughts escaped my boundaries, I had to become a mentor to myself and reclaim healthier, rational thinking in order to relax and love myself again.
Through continuing to draw upon some degree of inborn optimism, a sense of humor, and my precious times of solitude, I was gifted an inner freedom that shielded me from dangerous, negative, and hateful thinking. “Stinkin thinkin”, was not going to incarcerate me any further than I was already.
When I became skilled at my own ability to choose my thoughts, I really had some fun. (Ha, wouldn’t you like to know what I was thinking?) Let’s just leave that one alone for awhile.
No matter what happened, or how annoyed, upset or sad I felt, it was most important for me to retained my sense of inner freedom. Suffering didn’t control me, but in spite of suffering I was able to navigate my own calculated thinking.
One of the firsts books I read was, Man’s Search for Meaning, by Viktor E. Frankl. In case you are not familiar with his book, it depicts suffering lives in the Nazi death camps, while making some comparisons to our US Prisons and effects of captured humans. As a clinical psychologist Frankl’s primary conviction was that human drive is not about pleasure but the pursuit of what we find meaningful.
Finding meaning in our lives through searching. Time was my canvas of which to paint my meaning. It was my playground for spiritual growth and deepening, of which I will always treasure.
Even though I am not overly motivated to “get moving” today, I take solace in knowing and believing my life has meaning.
Yours does too!