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About six months ago, my doctor gently suggested that I cultivate my ability to relax.
I did not burst into hysterical laughter. I didn't want to scare her.
I was not sure how one would cultivate something one did not have. On the other hand, maybe I could learn a new skill, even at my age.
So the work began. (You can stop laughing.)
At an intense and productive four-day retreat, I learned to meditate. I figured out how to sit without an imaginary pencil in hand, scrawling out a to-do list.
"Self," I reminded myself, "your hand is relaxed. There is no pencil in reach. Stretch out your fingers. Breathe in. ... Breathe out. ..."
I told myself to practice saying "no" at least once a month. Every time I said "no," I gave myself a gold star. Some months I got two stars.
Then I took the really difficult step: I denied myself more than one cup of caffeinated substance per day.
"Look, Self," I told myself. "If you have only one cup of black tea a day, you will savor it all the more."
Self was not convinced. But then I found a line of herbal teas I liked drinking. I was happy. So was Self.
The tea bags came with lovely little tags with beautiful words of wisdom. I've found that pondering those words while the tea brews affords another moment to relax.
It's a double whammy of relaxation. Sometimes, it's almost too much for me.
Some messages came frequently. Like this one: "Every heartbeat creates a miracle."
I smile when I get that tag. I think of babies and new life and new hope. That tag helps me remember to go into our home office, exchange an endearment with my beloved husband of 27 years, Ralf, and breathe in life's sweetness.
I made it my practice to read and meditate four minutes on each tea tag - the time it takes to brew. Often I read the tags to Ralf, so he could meditate on them with me.
"Old age needs wisdom and grace," I read one day. "That's exactly the problem! That's not what we old folks need. It's what the younger generation needs!"
"What did I get?" Ralf asked. (I was making him a cup of tea, too.)
"Your destiny is to merge with infinity."
We were both silent.
"Yes," I said slowly. "We all die someday."
"Maybe afterwards will be relaxing," Ralf said.
"I don't want to be that relaxed just yet," I said. "Too much to do."
A day or two later I got: "Live to share," a good social action reminder. And last week, a new one I'd never seen before: "Mental happiness is total relaxation."
I think my doctor wrote that one. I put it at my desk to remind me what I strive for. Each day, I read it. I breathe slowly. I put down the pencil and sit still.
Then I go make myself a cup of tea.
