#19 There Is No Need for Resistance Here

There is no need for resistance here.

This is the line I’m chanting right now and this is the line I would ask you to chant with me if you were amongst a couple dozen strangers attending my hypothetical yoga class.

I would love a yoga class right now.

Instead, I’m retreating in my bedroom, my mom and my aunt taking down curtains in the other room, preparing my home for renovations to the walls and ceilings. That will begin tomorrow. Today, I need to clear the walls and ceilings, including clearing food, loose papers, fragiles, and knick knacks from the furniture, pack the belongings I want with me for the next two weeks, then vacate with said belongings from one of the Eastern-most places in Hong Kong to one of the Western-most places.

Mom and Auntie are here to help, and I’m grateful.

What I wasn’t grateful for half an hour ago was receiving notice that they were on the last leg of their journey. That was at 9:30 am.

Yesterday, Mom arrived around 11:30 am. I slept in sweetly until 7:30 am, read, journaled, breakfasted, went for a 90-minute hike weaving in my daily Tai Chi routine on a mountain platform, returned, and showered. An extended version of my daily morning routine. I prepped lunch for the two of us and walked up the possibly 40-degree hill to meet her at the bus stop. I had completed myself, mentally and physically, by the time she arrived.

This morning, I expected something like that. I slept until 8:00 am, read a book, walked down the hill along the footpath overlooking the beach carrying a full box of empty glass bottles to recycle, clanged them into the bin, returned home, laid out my yoga mat for a few warmup wiggles before commencing my daily Tai Chi routine.

Returning to the apartment excited to open this prompt and complete as today’s journaling, I saw the message from Mom. She and my Aunt would arrive in 20 minutes, before 10 am.

All at once, the 90 minutes of my life I imagined with journaling and sorting the papers of my two desks whilst wandering the peaceful forest of my mind vanished.

I wolfed down the muesli I’d prepared before my walk and thought about what to delegate to them, how was I going to ask for time to write.

They arrived and my background anxiety kicked in. I welcomed them, thanked them for coming. At 10 am, my Mom asked what progress I’d made since I parted with her around 9 pm last night. Last night I sorted through a bunch of papers on my desk, thought about the stuff in my room, and took three bags of trash up the hill to the bins by the bus stop and this morning a box of bottles, I said.

My aunt brought a bag on wheels with more bags inside. She said that she can take some things to her place first.

I said, that’s not the situation we have right now.

I said — I didn’t know you were coming this early.

Yes, she smiled, our journey was very smooth this morning.

They’re here to help, and my resistance at their early arrival is not helping me or helping them or undoing their early arrival.

I told them — the one part of my morning routine I haven’t done yet is to write. This is a part of my health, I said.

Mom asked for what to do next and I pointed to the curtains and the oddly mounted rods, and while they debated how easy it should be to bring down the whole rod in one go, I went to the closet and returned with five screwdrivers by the time they agreed that they’d need one.

Ok, we got this, said Mom. You can go do your stuff. I understand that she understands that means writing.

I placed all the pillows and blankets and stuffed animals in the house on the couch. They can be placed into bags, I said, delegating again.

Once clear, once thanked, I retreated into my room.

There is no need for resistance here.

There is no need to resist help or to resist showing what kind of help I need, if that includes letting them take over my living room while I lie here on my belly, my fingers tapping my resistance away into the laptop keys.

There is no need for resistance here.

It’s not my line — it’s given to me by my coach.

I’ve just been interrupted by Auntie for more instructions. They’ve done everything about the curtains and bagging things and she doesn’t know if we’re meeting the progress we need to meet or what I want to transport later or what to leave here and if all the drawers need to be emptied or if it’s OK for a few things to remain in them.

I answered the questions about the drawers. I haven’t made all the decisions for things to transport. She asked if I can come out and show her, am I available to do that right now.

I said no, I’m not available right now. Give me fifteen more minutes and then I will come.

There’s no need for resistance here.

This acknowledges the resistance from within. No one is resisting my progress on getting my home ready for renovation.

The task already exists and it isn’t done yet, and the resistance to doing it or to receiving help doing it is in me. I create it for some reason.

Gently, I can tell it, thank you, there’s no need for you to be here right now.

There is no need for resistance here.

My writing is done, I’m ready to pack and to receive help.

There is no need for resistance here.

—

This is Day #19 of Don’t Break the Chain — Cole Schafer’s writing class for ‘shipping daily’.

Today’s prompt, “If you were a yoga instructor and you had the undivided attention of a couple dozen strangers, what would be the single line you would ask them to chant? Why?”