Redefining Sanity – What’s Your New Happy?

25 Jul 2020 8 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali, caronavirus, wisdom, Writing Tags: , , , ,

There’s a lot written these days about preparing for the new normal. Some of it reads like dystopian fiction. Too often it seems to be magical thinking with little or no basis in fact.

Even though we’ve been watching the virus for several months, it’s still raging out of control in many places with no signs of slowing. A vaccine that will be delivered and distributed broadly enough to make a difference is still a fuzzy dream.

As I thought about that this morning I realized the only certainty right now is ongoing uncertainty and the people and activities that used to contribute to my sense of well-being are no longer available.

Everything is up for redefinition – including sanity – including happiness.

If I had experienced my current detours into mental strangeness before the pandemic, I’d have been worried. These days, feeling off-kilter, hopeless, adrift, unmotivated, confused (I could go on) is just the way it sometimes is, and I’ve learned a degree of acceptance and coping skills for the mood shifts that come out of nowhere.

But I don’t like coping. I prefer to thrive, mentally, physically, and emotionally and I realized today that to do that, I need to redefine happy. I’ve been struggling to fit the old ways into a new reality. It can’t be done. It’s like trying to keep an exploding rainbow intact. Bits and pieces of colorful joy break apart, fly everywhere, and disappear. I may grab one or two fractured shards as they zoom past, but that’s a starvation diet and it’s not working.

It boils down to expectations and there are two questions to answer:

1) When have I experienced happiness during corona?

  • I’ve been truly happy when engaged in projects that require physical effort.
  • I’ve been truly happy during Zoom calls with family.
  • I’ve been truly happy riding on the back of Ketut’s motorbike.
  • I’ve been truly happy when getting together with a friend – even sitting six feet apart.
  • I’m content when I’m writing, cooking, reading, walking, daydreaming.
  • I’m content when I have a plan for the day.
  • I’m content when I have something on the calendar to look forward to.
  • I’m content when I’m doing my morning routine.

2) How can I revise my expectations so they fall into line with what’s actually possible?

Things I can no longer expect are:

  • Hugs
  • Trips to see family
  • Group get-togethers
  • Spontaneous social interaction
  • Taking vacations
  • Leaving the house mask-less
  • Bustling streets
  • Restaurants and shops open
  • Feeling safe…

Comparing the two lists, I’m surprised how many things still exist that bring me happiness or contentment. I don’t have to be happy all the time. Contentment is an acceptable state. Hugs and a sense of safety are perhaps the most difficult to do without.

It will go a long way toward my new happy if I can incorporate a few items daily from the first list, and plan my days far enough in advance to feel I have an interesting life to look forward to. I’ll need time to mourn the loss of what isn’t possible. Time to honor what once was but is no more in an intentional way. But after that — theoretically —

I can release the old paradigm and embrace sanity and happiness, redefined.

Sanity is Green

21 Apr 2014 11 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali Tags: , , , ,

I didn’t sleep well last night. There was one mosquito…. But it wasn’t just the annoying buzz around my ears. I was waiting for another sound that didn’t come until after sunrise, after I’d shampooed, showered, and dressed, after I’d had coffee and my morning bowl of fresh papaya. I was waiting for voices, the workers who would come en mass today to pour my first floor terrace. I didn’t know how many to expect. Pasek said “Many.” How many is many? He didn’t know. But he brought extra glasses, more Bali coffee and sugar, and  watermelon and kue from the market. Pouring a floor is a big, big deal here in Bali. So I was on high alert knowing that the whole thing has to be finished the same day it starts and knowing also that they would begin early and stay as late as necessary. I was a little apprehensive in an excited sort of way.

P1060120Yesterday morning the floor looked like this.

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By the end of the day there were identical boxes perched on 2 x 4s at either end of the structure.

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And at 8:00 this morning…!

A crew of ten workers arrive. They come in the back of a pickup truck from a village in the district of Bangli. A breakfast of rice and vegetables, sometimes chicken, is packed early when food is made for the whole family. They unpack it and laugh and joke over their morning meal. I bring out the plates of kue, Balinese cakes, and Ketut heats the water for coffee. They love to joke with me and I know just enough Indonesian now to be dangerous. I’m not always certain what I’ve said or what I may have agreed to. They’re a raunchy bunch!

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The big guns arrive. Pasek, the project manager is in the forefront and Dewa, the contractor, is next to him. They’re here to make sure everything gets off to a good start. Sudi, my neighbor, is the third in the line-up, and Ketut in red takes it all in. By 8:45 the place is like an anthill. Everyone moves at once and knows what to do. Water flows into the big square boxes. Bags of cement come in carried atop the women’s heads. Stones are dumped in with the concrete mix. Scraping and mixing and commotion ramp up to full volume.

By 9:00 a.m. I’m in search of sanity. Which, as it turns out, is green.

Lucky for me, my friend wants me to go with her to Denpasar today to buy fabric. So at 9 a.m. Sudi and Ketut pull up on their motorbikes and we escape.

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Flooded paddies with new plantings reflect the sky

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Older growth yields layers and layers of green

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A small temple posts watch

For miles we roll through serenity. My nerves calm. My mind clears. We pass a small temple at the edge of a paddy and I remember that on the other side of the world today is Easter Sunday. It doesn’t take much, I realize, to ground me, to restore balance in my mind. Sanity is green, just a few miles of small road through acres of natural beauty.

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 Tonight my new floor looks like this.

The concrete is poured. The thunderous piles of black cloud that surrounded Ubud all afternoon didn’t leak a drop. The work was uninterrupted. All that remains of my diligent crew are these soggy gloves, hanging on the skeleton of a pillar to dry. Until tomorrow, that is. P1060151

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