If you can Practice when Distracted, You are Well Trained

Yesterday I got up at four fifteen AM and sat under the tree with my notebook as the sun came up. The woodpecker was out working on my red maple tree when I saw a red cardinal fly to a low branch. My neighbor Mark the groundskeeper of the neighborhood was mixing up a batch of cement and gently repaving my neighbors crumbling back stairs. I sat in the morning sun enjoying the sounds and sights while I wrote nine pages in my notebook. A voice in my head said maybe you are shifting into transmit mode. The pollen was flying and my quaking aspen had gray fluff dangling like a 1920's flapper dress all week. Now the aspen's gray caterpillar shapes have fallen into the yard.

My skin wants to sing and dance. I decided to perform an experiment yesterday and see if I could keep my working daily routine even if I am moving into 'transmit mode'. "Treat it as an experiment!" my inner sage advised. It is very hard but I am trying. I'm outrageously distractable and full of fiery physical energy hopping away from my easel every time I hear a noise in the parking lot. Each time I think of something I get sidetracked by another chore or idea. I caught a kid at my kitchen window looking for drugs from the neighbor boy's bedroom window 4 feet away. I went out and asked him not to come on my property please because I don't want to have to call the you know who. He got it. He had beautiful black curled eyelashes. I almost mentioned this too. Then 20 minutes later a car pulled up and there were two teen girls looking for the same drug-dealing boy, one girl got out and walked down the street. I asked them not to park in this parking lot. I told them please park on the street. There's a lot of shady stuff that goes on back here and I'd hate to have you gals swallowed up in it, I said. They got it.

Gently drop-kick the-puppy-of-distractability back onto the training-papers. I told myself.

I will try again today to exercise my routine even though I have a new head.

If you feel completely caught up and are spinning off... the slogan "If you can practice even when distracted, you are well trained" can remind you ... to breathe ... as a way of developing compassion for yourself and as a way of beginning to understand other people's pain as well. You can use the distraction to bring yourself back to the present moment, just as a horse rights itself after losing balance or skiers catch themselves just as they are about to fall. Being well trained means you can catch yourself and come back to the present.
-from Start Where You Are : A Guide to Compassionate Living by Pema Chodron,

My inner voice said just do ten minutes and see where it goes. And if I am doing okay, I can try for ten minutes again. You may be missing out on the best part, my inner voice suggested; working with transmit energy and joy on your work versus doing house cleaning or the laundry and yard work. Those things can be your reward! I read once that Joyce Carol Oates has housecleaning as her "reward" for her daily writing.

My husband came home at dinner time and told me about his day. I was enjoying his stories even though I was exhausted and grouchy. I told him about my experiment, which is going well. He liked my approach. We had supper and he had to finish deadline. I said I'm going to swim one lap in the pool. I was discombobulated and frazzled. I walked over to the health club and after one lap I unleashed a motorboat of forceful swimming and ended up swimming for an hour my mile-long lap. There was only one other woman swimming laps in the pool. The water was warm and luxurious. We both stopped swimming at the same time. I love the weight of the water, it's like almost-congealed jello, I said
"You're right!"She said, laughing. We realized we had met before through my neighbor Nancy. I've never come swimming here at night, I said.
"It's great, nobody is here at night except Nancy and me," she said.
I'll have to join the party, I said.

I felt lucky for my sidewalk friends and my pool friends. It's a lonely life some days.