Acceptance

This moment sucks. So how do I find joy in it? How do I drum up enthusiasm for the relentless pounding behind my left eye?

I don’t. I take Tylenol and a nap, and hope that it’s better when I wake.

It isn’t. In fact, it might be worse. It’s one of those hormonally-based migraines that last thirty-six hours and peak at 5 on the Richter scale. Not enough to make me barf, but enough to make being awake unpleasant. It also gets me to thinking about the downside of being present. There are some moments where I’d rather be anywhere else but where I am, when hearing a cheerful “be here now” is less likely to make me grateful than it is to make me a murder suspect.

One of the principles admonished by spiritual guru/philosopher/consciously-aware smart guy Eckhart Tolle is a threefold number that can be applied to every crappy moment/event/situation in life:

If you can change it, do so.

If you can remove yourself from it, do so.

If you can do neither of the first two things, accept it. Accept that the moment sucks and accept that it will pass. Good, bad or indifferent, no moment lasts forever. Perhaps the most helpful thing you can do in a so-called helpless situation is allow yourself to feel ripped off – denying fear of a root canal or anger with an executive decision will only make it worse. Don’t dwell on it, but don’t deny it, either. Accept how you feel and move on. You may feel better for it – I certainly do. I cannot change when the Flyers are losing a game. I can quit watching, or I can accept it and be happy that I’m watching them at all. That’s the other thing Professor Ekkles has done. He’s broken acceptance into further opportunities for presence. Once you accept the moment. you can:

Be enthusiastic; and/or

Find joy; and/or

If you can do neither of these things, then acceptance will have to do. Ironically, it takes more strength to stop resisting than it does to resist, but accepting what you cannot change can actually empower you. Letting go is liberating.

Back to the thirty-six hour migraine. When the Tylenol/nap attack fails, I do what I can to live with it. My ridiculously-priced green tea is always comforting, so I brew a tumbler and cradle it in my hands, sipping slowly and savouring the sweet grassy flavour. I compose this post, squinting at the computer screen as I collect my thoughts. I talk at Ter, who is having a day herself; we don’t complain, but we bolster each other through our respective sucky moments, finally admitting out loud that “it is what it is” and moving on despite the lure of continuing to whine.

And then, as it always does, the thirty-seventh hour arrives.