Karmic Cleansing and the Art of Doing Nothing

Karmic cleansing and the art of doing nothing
I'm currently "reading" (listening to) Eat, Pray, Love, a memoir/ travel bio about a woman finding balance in her life after a nasty divorce. She is a yogi, so I am totally digging the hilarious moments of meditation where her own mind is arguing with itself about which meditative mantra is best. Anyway...I feel the need to do some balancing in my life. This past year, now that I can look back at it, has been such an insane journey and maze--my mind feels like an Escher painting whenever I begin to think about reading one of the professional books piled up on my desk or getting back to the many articles I've started.

While in Rome--the first stop on her journey, the author learns the "art of doing nothing" and eating whatever you want whenver you want for pure enjoyment. I am far from that level of internal balance. I can't just do nothing--flashback to the blog on aches for hypothesis as to why--I have to have some small goal to accomplish. So for the past 4 days I have waged karmic war on the front and backyard. I literally spent four hours on my knees with a pickaxe looking tool hacking away at weeds and grass that has illegally occupied the pond area. If anyone needs help builidng a water garden I am a pro! I succesfully revamped the backyard pond and added a very zen fountain to the front yard. As bits of dirt, grass clippings, and gnats circled my head and choked my lungs today while mowing, I heard that little voice in the back of my head saying "nice try, Audrey--you're still a nut."

Well, I do not accept defeat that easily, so now I will wage war on the inner sanctum--the house itself and the list of menial odd jobs I've made for myself. Nothing will be accomplished until my physical surroundings are in order. I'm secretly placing all of my bets on the hope that once the house is spotless, organized, and cleansed (karmicly) then I will magically be able to do nothing! Here's the sucky part: by the time I get through my list, it will be time to go back to work...

And so my friends, these are the days of our lives--a nasty little cycle of ignoring weeds for so long they take over the world and then spending your vacation ripping them from your beds..

P.S.--a note on weeding:

Weeding became like an olympic sport for me. To keep entertained, I made a little announcer voice that dictated my every technical move as I snapped the roots of crabgrass and raked through the clay. I even gave myself scores based on the size of the weed, depth of roots, and technicality of the removal. Then, I started to imagine that each weed was some point of stress or angst over the year. Many of my ex-students' faces appeared on more than one blade of grass. I pulled at the tendrils clinging to the earth to wrench the roots free, imagining I was freeing my mind of tendrils of memory and anxiety my subconscious likes to inflict on me nightly....but, sigh, I only seemed to anger the dream gods as each night since I've been forced to endure all too familiar themes---but that's for another rambling.