• Liz Moore

Interrupt Anxiety With Gratitude

Well, what can be said about a week where a fly was not only a highlight, but a trending word on Merriam Webster. Even this usually stoic page showed more than a glimpse of humor. And may I add, that whoever may have been unsure of, or In disbelief about relativity as a viable theory, needs only to watch the fly’s star making turn in the VP debate for undeniable proof. Two minutes and nine seconds; no time at all, but, if you were glued to that fly, as I was, an eternity.

Prior to Flygate, I watched that debate filled with dread and anxiety; but that persistently immobile fly helped me remember my intention for the week.

A little blurb passed through my feed and had me trying to practice interrupting anxiety with gratitude; it is a handy little trick, which I was having varying success with, leaning towards not much.

But Tuesday night, after that horror show “debate” of non answers and obfuscation, I felt immense thankfulness to the twitter verse. Talented, quick, with apparently, a lot of free time, the fly hilarity was seemingly infinite. I stayed up late laughing and sharing with friends and family, and instead of heading to sleep in dread, I was smiling.

Friday night took me to the studio; I wanted to watch Shelley’s ballet class. I will never have enough time to learn all she has to teach me. That night the young dancers filled me with gratitude ; they were the teachers. I sat, socially distanced in the hall; and watched as these girls, not one past first year of high school, gave all they had to Shelley and to dance. Past dinner time, a Friday night, after a long week of zoom school, masks and, social isolation, they sparkled. Many of them are MDC dancers. No performances are planned for the foreseeable future, no glory, just the brutally hard work of ballet and pointe shoes. Beautiful.

Driving back to Spotlight early Saturday for a before 9 am beginner Modern class. All I could think was “what was I thinking “. The car in front of me stops; now what... nothing. A beautiful sky... not even sure what celestial body it was. I thought it was the sun, but when I turned the corner I saw the sun again in a different direction... I guess it was a Williston Road moon setting. A stunning little moment , such a pick me up as I was exhausted from having stayed up too late watching the Yankees lose 2-1 in the must win final game of the division series. Brutal, better to lose 16-1. I was dreading my daily conversation with my mom, and feeling not quite ready for 7-9 year olds. Well, those littles knocked it out of the park, and the hour flew by... more relativity in action. Feeling good and fortified, I called my mom on the way home.

I asked mom how she was, and she said fine but

a little sad. I told her I was sorry about the Yankees and I hoped she was ok. For those who don’t follow this blog, my mom, Maria, at 89, is the world’s biggest Yankee fan, she bleeds Yankee blue. Well, Maria IS fine lol. She let me know in no uncertain terms that she still loved her Yankees, even though they had stunk up the place last night. A more apt description of that game will not be found. She then added, she will just have to find a way to live another season as she has no intention of going to the other side until the Yankees win another championship. So, I guess that is that, and my sister and I will be keeping her in classic comfort meatloaf and peppermints for another year.

I will keep hanging on to the lessons of this week. It wasn’t easy trying to interrupt the anxiety producing steamroller that is 2020.

Yet, as always; gratitude, the incredible soother and heart opener, is worth the effort. And really, I don’t think we can top Maria’s attitude: keep loving what/who you love even when they/it are stinking up the place. Who knows what this week will bring; I intend to face it with less anxiety, more gratitude, laughter , and a whole lot more Maria.


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