Thursday, February 24, 2011


What ancient part of my lizard brain rears its ugly head when, three hours early for class, I pull into the parking lot at school and see the ominous sign indicating that both lots are FULL. although I have hours yet to study, which could be done in my car as easily a a desk in the library, and I could park and quietly wait for a student to show up and deliver me this prize, I panic.  My adrenal glands show me their mettle, and off we go sailing down the highway of hyperventilation.  They make drugs or this sensation, but I am not taking them, not today.  Because this should not be happening.  I should be smart enough to realize that within the half hour a spot will open up.  The planets are not aligning to deprive me of a place to deposit my car.  But panic I do.  With all the self talk, all the common sense, all the logic in hand, I devolve into a 7 year old freak out tantrum.  It is not pretty and I do not admire myself at all when I do it.

So why do I do it? What fear drives this intense physical, emotional, psychic reaction to something that I know will soon pass?  What on earth is the threat? And why such an intense response to this perceived threat?

I have not run in two weeks.  I have not taken yoga in a month.  I have not meditated in six months.  I am too busy, too happy, too tired, too anything….

Go figure.

1 comment:

  1. and there is your answer - right there at the end. I think I need that vanity plate hear in Georgia