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Your one wild and precious life OCD and Trusting Your Heart

My exposure this week has been to get into my studio first thing in the morning, rather than get on the computer. In the irony that is OCD, I love being in my studio, but the ritual of distracting myself on the internet has worn a groove in my brain, so I put off making art. I've been leaving a voicemail with my therapist once I get myself into the studio. My mornings have been a chant of "eat breakfast, go into studio, call Leonard" with varying amounts of squawking from the OCD, but I've made a lot of art, which is good, because starting next weekend I have 7 craft shows in 7 weekends!

My love of art gives me a lot of strength for fighting the OCD. When I make art, I am in the present moment, and I rely on my intuition, my eye, my hands, my heart. Yes, the OCD intrudes, with delaying my studio time, or getting stuck on what to make next, or not wanting to take a break because I might not get myself back to the studio. But the self I am when creating art, is the self that is whole, and strong, and wiser than my OCD.

It took a long time before I let myself be an artist. When you've had OCD as long as I have, it intertwined with so many aspects of my being, and with my troubled family. I assumed that if I liked doing something, that this was irrelevant. I've met others recovering from OCD with a similar sense, and who also, like me, felt lost when contemplating what they might like to do, rather than what the OCD wants. Combined with my perfectionism and wanting to do things right on the first try, and my fearful thoughts of worthlessness, it was a struggle to experiment and try things out, but I loved art, and this love gave me strength to persist in making it, even though I wasn't certain it was what I "should" be doing.

The OCD chimes in with "Are you sure you love art? Maybe you don't really. Maybe you can figure this out. Start assessing the quality of your passion. What if you really should be doing something else, like when you felt called to be a minister. Maybe God is angry with your decision to be an artist." I did two semesters of seminary in a quest to banish the persistent thought that God wanted me to be a minister, in spite of my lack of any real desire to be one. I feel closest to God when I am creating art. My leap of faith is to trust my experience. This is akin to standing too close to the edge of a steep path up a cliff, and feeling woozy, but this is my one life, and OCD is lying when it promises complete safety.

I'd love to hear your story of what you love. Take your best guess, the smallest inkling if that's all you have. Think of it as an exposure.

Here are some lines from a poem, "The Summer Day," by Mary Oliver, that speak to me, and hopefully to you:

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Life is Not a Problem Rerun

by Nina

In the Kusama Room by Brad Gibson

When I was in Holland and Denmark, the last couple of weeks, I was dealing long-distance with a family situation. It was hard to be so far away and be unable to help in person, and I even considered cutting the trip short and going back home in the hopes that my physical presence could help solve some of my family member’s problems (I’m being purposefully vague here, to protect someone’s privacy). Brad thought I should wait because the situation was still unfolding and he felt I could be of more use at a later date. So for a while, I just monitored the situation from afar, mostly texting back and forth because my family member was afraid a phone conversation would be too emotional. 

After a few days of that, I started getting more and more anxious myself. One night in Copenhagen, I started to recognize the physical and emotional symptoms that I experience when in high stress mode (which can lead to an anxiety attack). So I asked Brad to step in for me temporarily and I took some time to calm myself down by practicing—if you know me at all by now you can probably guess—Legs Up the Wall pose (see Featured Pose: Legs Up the Wall Pose). As always, that helped me quiet my nervous system. (Thank you, supported inverted poses!)

But even after that I was still worrying in general about my family member, and what I should or should not do about the situation. So I was up very early the next morning, unable to sleep in even though I was on vacation. What I did with my time was to spend some time researching Copenhagen to see which more offbeat things I could come up with to do (most people just tell you to visit the castles, which is kind of like saying when in New York, visit the Statue of Liberty). And I remembered then that Kierkegaard, a philosopher who Brad and I both studied about in college, was from Copenhagen. So I started reading up on him. And when I found a list of some of his most famous quotes, one jumped out at me:

“Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.” —Soren Kierkegaard

I instantly felt a sense of relief. Somehow just reading this statement allowed me to step back a bit from the family situation and let go of my attachment to the outcomes of my actions. I was still going to be helping as much as I could, of course, but anxiety started to lessen. Kierkegaard’s thought (he was considered to the first Existentialist) seemed very yogic to me and seemed related to the concept of detachment (see Acceptance, Active Engagement and the Bhagavad Gita). Today I’m trying to find a quote that reflects that same concept, and for now, the best I can do is this quote from the Bhagavad Gita, in which Krishna explains to Arjuna that a yogi is one:

“Who unperturbed by changing conditions sits apart and watches and says “the powers of nature go round”, and remains firm and shakes not.” —translation by Juan Mascaro

When Brad woke up, I excitedly told him what I had discovered. He loved the quote, too, and we started to wonder if we might visit Kierkegaard’s grave. A little research told us that he was buried in a graveyard quite far from where we were staying, and we decided that we didn’t want to give up a whole day in the city just to go there. But we did keep talking about Kierkegaard as we walked about his city, and almost took on that quote of his as a mantra.

One way Brad and I are compatible is in the way we like to explore a new city. We go everywhere on foot without a big agenda and spontaneously explore the things we stumble upon. For example, one day our agenda was simply to check out the oldest bakery in the city and try the snegles (cinnamon rolls!), and we ended up passing by the Round Tower on our way there so we went on in (it turned out to be one of the most beautiful interior spaces I’ve ever been in). On our last afternoon, we decided to walk back to our apartment a different way just to see what we might see, and ended up walking past the Royal Library, which was not a destination we would ever have picked. And, lo and behold, there it was, in the library garden, a beautiful statute of Kierkegaard.

Kierkegaard Statue by Brad Gibson

P.S. If you look closely at the photo of the Kusama room, you can see our reflections.

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