Containers 6: Hyperactivity

I am over-extended. Sometimes it seems like a disease. It is certainly disease. This past weekend, however, felt wonderfully hyperactive. I packed my schedule full of stuff, but a good part of that stuff was truly calm. On Friday night, I drove to Chicago. Initially, it was a pleasant drive. I took a dictophone with me and talked to myself about my thesis. That was very nice. Then, the reality of car culture set in as I approached the Des Plaines oasis. From this point, it is five miles to the O'Hare toll. It took me forty minutes. Death on Wheels. After that, I started to get a bit anxious about arriving at the New College reunion I was on my way to. The party ran from five to eight. I arrived at 7:55. Mike (Herr undergraduate doctor father) received my hug and laughed as I ran out again. I was illegally parked and estimated I had 10 minutes until the machine swallowed up my car and spit it out in Schaumburg or some other sewer sluice for illegally parked cars.

The next day, I got up late and spent a long, slow day wandering around the south side of Chicago with two once-lost, now found friends from the idyllic days of Sarasota. The day was warm, the lake was energetic, and the stroll was slow. It was very nice. The day and social setting was low pressure in such a way that I found myself staring into the lake and settling into meditation for a bit.

Whether calm or anxiety-ridden, hyperactivity holds my life. It gives me a way to pour my overflowing energy into creation of something. Mostly I give that energy to relationship. I find the most rewarding way of doing, of working, and of creating goodness in the world is by connecting deeply with others. This draw is also entrapping. The beauty of connection is both expressive and demanding for me.

Motion is another way that hyperactivity holds my life. Because of the geographic arrangement of the other half of my relationships, I must move constantly. Motion is also both inspiring and constraining. The wonder of motion is first found in the initial draw of the destination. When I began my journey to Chicago, I was fulfilled by the novelty of the journey. That is not to say I have not gone to Chicago before. Rather, it is the side step out of daily routine and the resulting explosion of motion that excited me. Then, the closer (and later) I got to Chicago the discrepancy between intended and real timing as well as intended and real location began to undermine the pleasantry of travel. The closer I got to the heart of the beast (Chicago's affluent, lake endowed north side), the more distressing my motion became. I got lost. I drove in circles. I feared the urbanity of Chicago and its strict intolerance for bumpkin Wisconsinites like myself.

Hyperactivity gives me a pot into which to pour my energy which might otherwise do something else. Like create? destroy? hmm....I wonder now what else it would do.

Peace,