Being Breath

stories from the wilderness of everyday life

THIS is the practice (a.k.a. Be Careful What You Wish For)

It was one of those things I've been meaning to do.

I have an art area - a studio of sorts - that is well-used.  I've been meaning to clean it.  I really have.  But I've been dragging my feet on that.  Every time I went downstairs, I wanted to play...not organize.

Yesterday when I went downstairs, I noticed the carpet felt a bit cooler than usual.  This is the basement, mind you, so nothing that set off any alarms.  But I decided to investigate...

I'll save you the dramatic build: Over the past few weeks, it appears our basement has been lightly flooding.  

I noticed a tarp that I use for art was a tad moldy on the underside, wood pieces I had sitting around for encaustic showed signs of soaking up water, and the carpet in the corner was ever-so-slightly discolored.

We've had heavy rains recently.  But in the years we've lived here, have not experienced any problems.  So we weren't looking for this.

(In case you are wondering, we have no resolution as of yet.  We are calling someone in who can give us a professional opinion on what to do next.)

So I guess my studio is going to get cleaned.

I'll spend the next few days moving everything out, assuming that we will have to replace the carpet.  At the very least, I need to move the things so the professional can take a look without stepping over or on my paint.  

It was so easy, upon discovering the damage that was done and considering the financial impact that is inevitable, to lose it.  I felt my stomach gripping the second I realized what was going on, and my thoughts starting to swirl toward fear and anger.

And then there's the guilt.  I'm not living in a worn-torn neighborhood, no one just died, we'll be able to find some way to pay for this.  Why be so disturbed?

 

But this is the practice.

The practice of everyday life.

 

Finding my peace on the meditation cushion or on the yoga mat or while holding a paint brush is important.  Maintaining that peace when I learn the carpet flooded is more important to me.

I do all of these practices as part of my life, not apart from it.  

 

And the unexpected way that my studio is going to get clean?

I can cry or I can laugh.  (Or I can do a bit of both.)

As long as I can find my ease of breath while snorting from tears or the sheer humor of it all, I'll make it through the experience with greater peace.

 

So yes, I'll be heading to the meditation cushion this morning.  (I'll make sure to do so upstairs...)  And yes, I'll be searching the phone book for someone to call who can guide us through the next step.

It's all part of what I feel blessed to experience - this crazy, turbulent, magical practice of living.

 

Namaste.