I love that song by The Bangles, "Manic Monday." It first came out when I was a young woman with a husband, a young child, a job and writing aspirations. It defined my life. If you'd asked me back then, I'd have said I'd have my life in order by now. Hah, naive young thing I was back then.
Every Monday hits me with a wave of panic about all the things that I need to do for the week. I've been battling the manic-panic approach to the week with some success for the last two years. However, as soon as I let down my guard (buttressed by square breathing and conscious-positive thinking) and think about my to-do list, my heart starts to race.
All this panic is detrimental to the creative process. I know this, so I battle on. Life's little disruptions make it difficult, but life's big disruptions make it almost impossible to drop down into the dreamworld of my creative conscious. I was going to complain about that today, but I can't...
Because, while I was strugging to tame the to-do devil, I heard on the radio about the shootings at Virginia Tech. My little battle with life's difficulties suddenly seems so tiny. I have it good. Healthy husband, healthy children, work...life.
So, today I don't need to square breathe my way out of my relatively trivial worries -- shock and pain and sympathy have knocked me out of my petty panic phase. If I am lucky enough to get down into a creative state, I'll be grateful for that, too, because I know for certain I'll be coming up to reality on a regular basis to sit with the knowledge that there are mothers, fathers, husbands, wives and children who are facing unimaginable loss today.
Sorry to be such a downer, but sometimes life punches someone else in the gut, and takes the air out of the innocent bystanders' lungs. Today was definitely that kind of day for me.