Sylvia's Journal

Today is Eid and many of my Moslem friends are celebrating. Eid Mubarak to all myMuslem friends

Axel reminded me yesterday morning that I am running on an energy level that is 80% in a 120% world and that my tired stressfulness was not surprising. Morsi corrected me; it was probably closer to running on 70% in a 150% world. “Get your rest,” he ordered, “your body needs it. It’s the time when it does what it needs to do for your healing.” He is a doctor so he knows.

It occurred to me that a 40 to 80 point difference is what you get when you put a 40 watt bulb in a 100 watt light fixture. Maybe that is what is stressing me out the most; I want to give more light but I can’t.

The problem with being stressed is that it is hard to center. Being off-center I make more mistakes, forget things. It takes tremendous effort to be mindful. All this takes me even further from the center. My body is also off-center, as shown in my gait. I am sure the mind-body connection holds, once more.

Unfortunately there is something relentless about work. In my line of business you’re either on or off (that light bulb again). When work comes in, usually via email, I drag it into my Outlook task list and attach a due date to it. I used to do this routinely before the crash. It has taken me until now to clear most of my emails and pull out the tasks. But they keep coming in like water over the transom of a boat that is not quite seaworthy on the high seas. I have to keep on bailing. Sometimes I can rest for a moment, stand straight and congratulate myself on a job well done; but then, oops, there’s the next wave.

The trip to New York suddenly felt like coming into port: a single focus, a night alone in a hotel, a bath, then early to bed and a very short walking commute across UN Plaza in the morning. Drawn by this vision I left work early for the airport; ridiculously early. It was a good thing as I needed much more time than I had expected.

Because I faithfully comply with the requirement that I can only use Axel’s handicapped parking sign if he is in the car with me, I did not use the empty handicapped parking spots that were so deliciously close to the entrance of Terminal A. One day I will be rewarded for playing by the rules. By the time I had worked my way through the entire parking garage, the line at security and arrived at my departure gate that was as far removed from the terminal entrance as it could be, I was in bad shape. Everything hurt, foot, hip, shoulder and neck. I decided I was going to get a massage at the hotel.

I did not need to. The Brookstone gadget store was near my departure gate and had an enormous massage chair right by its entrance. It was empty. I asked the sales lady if I could try it. She settled me in the chair and programmed it to give me a 15 minute whole-body massage. It was heavenly and I emerged 15 minutes later feeling great. I could have bought the chair right there and then (free shipping on selected items) but we’d have to add another wing to our house to accommodate the behemoth. It could put Abi out of business.

From then on things went smoothly. I even discovered at the eleventh hour where I was supposed to show up this morning; a little piece of information that had fallen through the cracks and that could have caused more stress. Imagine flying to New York at a cost that could have gotten me and Axel to Amsterdam and back; staying in a hotel that would swallow a year’s income of a rural farmer in Africa; and then searching for hours for my meeting room in UN buildings that probably host hundreds of such meetings each day. I did not even know the title of our meeting. That would have been really bad.