Last night, my yoga teacher reminded us of the importance of non-attachment. When we become attached to expectations or outcomes, particularly those out of our control, we can make ourselves sick (and I would add, drive ourselves crazy.) This lesson is one I need to learn over and over, particularly at this moment in life when I keep looking forward to things – my book, my trip to Scotland, etc. I really need to practice non-attachment. . . now how, exactly, does one do that? I guess if it was that easy, I’d already be doing that.

There’s also something about this time of year that is hard. Maybe it’s the lingering cold weather, maybe the still relatively short days. Whatever it is, this last lag of winter can really slow me down and not in that hibernating, recharging way; nope, instead I feel like I’m walking one of those two lane highways that cross the western U.S., no true destination in sight. I’m tired. I guess my friend Cate feels something like this, too, because here’s what she wrote yesterday.

So what do I do with this feeling, this knot in my chest that makes me want to jump ahead a few hours, days, weeks, even years? I let it go, like releasing a clenching grip on someone’s hand and I put my focus on what is really before me – a day’s work, a conversation, a fluffy white cat balled up in my lap. I choose to pull my mind away from the expectations I have and trust that a loving God, who knows far better than I what is best for me now and in the future, will bring to pass what is best. This is not easy, and over and over again, I have to let go and watch the thought slide away; it always comes back, and that’s okay – trying to not think about something, of course, only makes me think about it even more.

I figure, if I can work myself up into a tight-chested feeling with just thoughts, surely, those same thoughts can bring me a little release. My mantra – “build her house” – from Proverbs 14. I have a house to build – a task I’ve been given, a book to write . . . each day, that is my focus. Not tomorrow or Saturday or next March. Today . . . today, I am building my house.