So today, I appreciate limits.
On the last day of my Chicago practice, I had a day seeing people who had been regular clients for most of my time there. I spent quiet time meditating in the days before that Friday, reflecting with gratitude on what their trust had meant to me. I meant to approach the day with calm, professional dignity. But professional dignity has its limits, especially when people share small glimpses of how you have affected their lives, and I found myself ugly crying multiple times that day. In front of clients. They were all loving and grateful and generous with their hugs.
On my way to Louisville the next day, I got a message from another client, hoping I had the time to squeeze in just one more appointment. (I saw this client about a week and half ago. We mentioned that it was probably the last time, and said a calm and dignified goodbye.) For just a moment I thought I could squeeze in a last appointment when I'm back in Chicago to clear out the rest of my apartment. Just thinking about it, though, made me want to curl up on the floor for a while. Somewhat surprisingly, even my willingness to help has limits. Those limits seem to share a border with my health, which I am calling progress.
These things that are limited -- time, health, stoicism -- really serve to highlight the things we have which are limitless. Curiosity, ability to learn, and of course, love. Scarcity is a myth. I have learned this (again) by finding my limits.
