Going on Empty
by Allie Rowbottom
Lately I have had a great deal of difficulty writing and, despite numerous efforts to avoid stating as much in this essay, I've come to embrace the recent impenetrable nature of my mind. Ideally, I would be writing eloquently on the subject of spirituality, delving deep into the meaning of some ancient religion, but I am stuck as to how to get in touch with any such topics when I can barely get a word out.
Such is especially distressing since, as you may have guessed, writing is one of my primary tools for exploring and understanding my spiritual path. Upon closer inspection, however, I notice that my predicament is only discouraging when examined through a discouraged lens, and since spirituality is, in part, a lens through which we view ourselves and our surroundings, I know there is a way of seeing this stopped up situation as divine. In fact, it is quite possible that my recent bout of writers block aligns perfectly with the spiritual slump I've felt myself fall into of late, and all for good reason.
The brouhaha began about a month back when I simultaneously bought a puppy, signed a lease, started a new job and finished up the spring semester. The changes were overwhelming and served to sufficiently occupy my mental energy, so much so that I had little left to put towards my spiritual self and the ongoing development of that personhood that I have committed to via art and mindfulness. At the time, I saw this happening but shrugged it off, intending to get back on track as soon as I was settled in my new place and part time occupation as a video store saleswoman.
Then, however, I discovered my new apartment to be infested with bedbugs to an extent that necessitated a move, I was, shall we say, preoccupied by pea sized welts up and down my arms, the seemingly impossible task of apartment hunting, moving, exterminating, while simultaneously potty training my puppy. Given all this, I thought, spirituality can wait. What I didn't realize however, was that it's not a chore in the first place.
I am a spiritual being whether I own it or not and as such, it is really an effortless state. People tend to push themselves to be religious or spiritual, always in anticipation of some end goal or reward. But it seems to me that right now is that reward. The joy that one can find in laughing at bedbug infestations or in humoring an incontinent little puppy is the heaven that so many people dejectedly strive for their entire lives. I'm not sure how much sense that will make to you, my readers, but having spent a great deal of my recent time in a stressed out state, I see that I experienced every ounce of unrest in order to understand that it will pass, rather painlessly, should I choose to make it so.
