Am I hungry?
Am I tired?
Am I thirsty?
Do I have to pee?
This is my checklist. Whenever I catch myself overreacting, or wanting to snap at someone, or just generally feeling cranky, I stop. Take a breath. And run the list, my crankiness diagnostic algorithm.
If I’m hungry, I eat. And much like a squirrel, I have snacks cached everywhere in case of just such an emergency. Whether it’s granola bars in the glove box, beef jerky in my briefcase, or even airplane peanuts in my tote bag (hey, don’t judge me; there aren’t many other snacks that pack that much fat and protein into that many calories–for free.)
If I’m tired, I rest. That may mean going to bed early or just taking a nap. It may also mean giving myself permission to take the time that I think that I don’t have to pause. And take a deep breath. And another. And another. Before moving on to the next thing.
If I’m thirsty, I have some water. Self-explanatory.
If my bladder is full, I proceed with all due to haste for the nearest socially acceptable place for emptying it.
The checklist evolved years ago, organically and almost accidentally. As I got deeper into yoga and other mindful practices, I became more aware of my internal states and was able to realize that almost any crankiness I experienced had its basis in a denied basic physiologic need. And the checklist has served me very well over the years; although simple, its powerful. It has prevented countless regrettable spats, avoided countless unfortunate reply-alls, and generally helped me to care for my body in a way that supports my Self. And yet it recently underwent another evolution…
Several times in the past few months, I’ve caught myself being cranky with no explanation. One time the crankiness persisted for days. I walked around for the better part of a week with my shoulders braced, my belly tight, and my face trying desperately to rearrange itself into a snarl that only a werewolf could love. All of this, despite the fact that I’d been consistently eating well, was ahead of the game on my fluid intake yet empty of bladder, as well as sleeping deeply and at-length. Perplexed, I tried my customary solutions anyway, largely because I couldn’t think of what else to do. And, not surprisingly, they didn’t make much of a difference.
It finally got to the point where I realized that for the sake of everyone–those around me as well as myself–I had to figure this thing out.
So I got quiet.
And I got curious.
I asked myself: what is it that I need right now? How can I best support myself in restoring my mood?
The answer, when it came, shocked the heck out of me. I almost didn’t believe it, tempted to dismiss it as a product of my Mind rather than wisdom from my Heart. But it was the only piece of intel that I had to go on, and I didn’t have anything to lose, so I figured what the heck.
The answer was: complete these tasks.
Some of the things were corporate work, items that had been left to molder in my inbox like lumps of forgotten Muenster. Some of them were life management, a form of self-care that involves performing routine maintenance on my life’s infrastructure. Others were related to my personal projects, creating and sharing. And still others were about relationship maintenance, calls to be returned, connections to be renewed.
You can see why I was skeptical about this being my Heart’s answer. After all, lists and tasks are most often the province of the Head. But, as I said, I didn’t have any other insights or ideas, so I set about gettin ‘er done.
One by one, I completed things from the list. And with each item cleared, I felt better. My face began to relax. My shoulders began to melt. My belly began to soften. And by the time I finished with the list, I felt fully reconnected to my usual, sparkly self. Ahhhh…
Reflecting on the experience has since inspired me to add a fifth question to my checklist:
Am I not doing something that I must do?
My working theory of the case is that incomplete things create a kind of energy sink. Whether it’s taking yourself out of alignment by ignoring your inner voice’s urging to pursue something or simply pulling yourself out of integrity by failing to honor a commitment, those trailing loose ends pull on you and subtly drain your energy. I sometimes picture them crowding around my ankles like so many small dogs, milling around and vying for my attention, their yipping and yapping constantly scratching at the edges of my awareness. Quite frankly, it’s annoying. It’s also distracting, making it challenging to truly, fully focus on anything else. (From the record, I adore dogs–of all sizes. But loving them all doesn’t mean having to deny how annoying the little ones can be!)
I use the word must here, and I deliberately use it instead of should. Although the thesaurus considers them synonyms, there is a world of energetic difference between the two. Elle Luna eloquently captures it in her brilliant essay The Crossroads of Should and Must (https://medium.com/@elleluna/the-crossroads-of-should-and-must-90c75eb7c5b0) To paraphrase her:
Should is how others want us to be, Must is who we are at our deepest and most authentic core.
My crankiness last month, that chronic unease, was a symptom of having strayed from my authentic self, disregarded my personal musts. I had neglected my self-expression by letting personal projects lapse. I had behaved in a way that wasn’t consistent with my intention to be honorable, a woman of my word. Caught up in the trance of busyness, I had been distracted away from my soul’s agenda. And as I made my way through the list, I was literally clearing away all of the accumulated mental and energetic debris that marked unfinished, or at least unattended, business. And in clearing that static away, I was able to re-experience the peace that always resides in the deepest heart of me.
So, I ask you, what are your body and spirit asking for right now? And how will you continue to hone your ability to hear and honor them?
Fierce Whisper 