Part of the process (oh my! that sounds pretentious – oh well) I’ve been going through in the past 18 months is letting go of the need to control.
Letting go of trying to control what people think and say not only about me…but about anything I didn’t agree with actually.
Letting go of the people’s reactions when there weren’t how I wanted them to react (my children included).
Letting go when I didn’t react the way I wanted.
Now that blasted song is in all of your heads again – sorry ’bout that Chief – many of the books and articles I read throughout the Great Self-Help and Knowledge Binge of 2014 – 15 spoke of flow.
Flow can be so many things to so many people.
For me, it’s the moment I let the universe take over. The moment I shrugged my shoulders and sounded like a contestant from My Kitchen Rules and said to the wind “You got this.”
The moment I whispered , ‘whatever’ (but without the – EVA at the end and a hand in someone’s face. That’s not flow. That’s Mean Girls).
Flow arrived for me when I stopped busting my arse to get through my unrealistic to do list and then berated my arse for not making it.
I work hard, I do what I can. And what I can’t do, I save for another day ….and walk away. I’m in flow.
Some supersmart psychologists and incredibly spiritually aware people describe flow in various terms:
– a state of complete immersion in an activity
– when the ego falls away
– when each action arrives after another action the same way soft waves break onto a shore. One after the other, gently, gently…nature’s flow.
We’ve heard athletes or people who have experienced points of high adrenalin describe flow as when all senses are switched on to hyper-drive and they do not question their actions. They just do what comes to them at that time. They are in the zone.
How do I know I’m in flow?
Cool things happen. Not only physiologically with the relaxed state and the mind that used to resemble a Mixmaster on high speed now being able to slow to a rolling stop.
But in the world around me.
People appear when I think about them. I don’t mean they morph from the floor of my lounge room (although that would be nice if that worked with say Orlando Bloom). They appear online, on the end of my phone in the form of a call or a text, they knock on my door or an email appears.
It happened again this weekend. I am building the foundation of a creative project I am ridonkulously excited about. I thought about a company run by a lovely lady I haven’t seen for years that I think would be a good match for the project. Monday morning a message appears via Facebook from her about something completely unrelated.
I thanked the universe and made lunch reservations.
And the best bit?
You get awesome parking spots. And I am not even kidding. When I was wound tighter than a cotton spool, I could NEVER find a parking space. Well, I could but it would always be some distance from my final destination and I’m sure you can imagine the huffing and puffing and swearing under my breath involved in that walk. Because, you know, stupid shit like that use to matter to me and I took it as a personal insult.
It was like I was on the set of The Truman Show and all the cars left for work at the same time in the morning and parked in Castle Towers car park RIGHT before I got there.
Rock star car parking spots.
Oooh yeah – right near the entrance to shops, movies, swimming pools, beaches even!!
It’s okay, don’t clasp your pearls too hard. Getting a leg up in the car parking world is not the reason I’ve opened myself up to flow (although it’s an awfully convenient bonus).
It’s a small sample of the way things can go right in your world when you stop grasping the universe by the scruff of it’s neck (if it had one), shaking it from side to side and screaming, “why do you hate me? why do you make it sooooooo effin hard for me??”
It’s how things can be.
It’s how things are for me most of the time now.
Not all the time. I’m not naive to think nothing bad will ever happen to me.
But if it does, I know I’ll get a good spot in the hospital car park.