Between the In Between

Nervous Nellie. Today my grounding practice is feeling plaque on my teeth. I can feel it on the back of my front teeth. It is bothersome, and curiously, addictive to keep feeling over the rough surface with my tongue. It is buildup from something or other--very likely, from the science project happening in my mouth as my body heals from candida. This is why I get my teeth cleaned very often. Otherwise, I mutilate them with that sharp thing that the dentist uses. Every time I go, (well not anymore) I ask them "Should I do that?" The answer is always, "No, no. Just come here and we'll take care of it for you."

But there is something to cleaning off the gunk in your life. But I wonder...is it possible to clean things up without being aggressive and harmful? It is like the periods I've had where I decide to turn over a new leaf. When I decided I wanted my toes to look decent, I went at them like red ants on a dying insect. I mutilated the nails, cut into the skin too much, and dug down into the tender part that is meant to be left alone. That is why I pay to have them done now. I cannot be trusted with this. Too tempting. Give me anything sharp and I will re-sculpt myself into Edward Scissorhands or something like it.

So is there an in between, I wonder? Yes, in the perfect world it is called "balance." And it become this eccentricity to say things like, "I am compulsive, or obsessive, or anal retentive." Yes, that's always a good way to making your "bad traits" sound good. It looks great on a Woody Allen film. But I do not have a projector behind me. I just beam straight human, not films.

If I have a wish: it is that I would like to pay attention to my teeth without mutilating my gums. I would like to take care of my hair without either dying it every single color and switching every other month or shaving it off. (Almost a year ago, I took on look at it, and decided I was sick of dying it and shaved it all off. And I mean ALL off.) I have been "growing" it now without a cut. It is a lovely mullet-ish style, which I am hoping will turn into one of those really nice "layered" styles, once it grows. But in the meantime, I am practicing just sitting with it. I get the urge to cut it all the time. But I am leaving it. Un-dyed. Un-cut. And I have greys and I am leaving them.

So I am doing this moderating in areas of my life. But I am not really looking now at where I am moderating. This is not time for a gentle eye that lets things pass. That is like looking in the mirror and asking where things are sticking up, and just saying, "It's all fine." Without really looking. I am looking where I attack vigilantly, and wonder if it is not to give myself something to do, so I don't get too sleepy.

This being on one end of the spectrum or another leads me to believe I am not so comfortable with things right in the middle. Or maybe middle is a high level of joy, or intensity.

This post even seems middling to me. I don't like it. As much as I talk of this calm, I am very comfortable in my bursts of energy. This other place -- I do not want sometimes. It is the baby, right before they go to sleep. And sometimes, there is something scary to me about slipping off into this. I claim to want calm, but the idea of silence can be pressing. No noise, no music, no talking, no movement. I sit and do nothing. This is lovely when I am in the mood. But it is more fun, in an un-fun, guinea pig kind of way to stalk myself and notice, when I am not in the mood for silence. "What are ya' up to?" "Nothing." That is the response I don't want to feel. Like right now.

I am not up in arms about something. Not feeling really worked up. Just a kind of "enh" feeling that is not strong enough to move to anything deeper. And I am not doing anything to entertain myself, distract, make things go faster. I am not running out for a walk, or going to drink coffee or tea. I am not talking to a friend. Not preparing for work. I am just sitting here with this in-between self. Being vanilla. I can feel the urge to "do" something to change it, but I am enjoying making the "self" wait and "sit in it." Like lumpy oatmeal grown cold on the table. Practicing oatmeal is my new torture device. I must admit, it gives me pleasure to see myself squirm. Practicing oatmeal--the new Zen.

Oatmeal would have saved me lots of money on my hair. I would rather have had all that spent energy as money in the bank. Oatmeal would have saved me countless hours spent obsessing, feeling bad, calculating on what the perfect hair would get me. Oatmeal would have saved me time and energy now in setting up my life in particular ways when I was busy running my engine on high. But oatmeal is not always available. There is only now. And right now, I am enh.