The Turning Chair

I was in the middle of a qigong routine on Saturday morning when I heard my niece speaking to me from 35 years ago.

It’s time for the turning chair!”

The line came to me from seemingly nowhere, but it was exactly what I needed.

I was recuperating from previous evening’s emotional assault where a planned night of Netflix and Chill mutated into self-inflicted bout of hell on earth.

I was watching Steven Spielberg’s “The Fabelmans” and instead enjoying the autobiographical film like a normal human being, I elected to use the movie as an excuse to resurrect my mile-long list of regrets about the direction of my life.

I had all these big dreams about getting into the movie business and I never even got close.

There’s a guy who worked to get what he wanted, I thought. He didn’t just talk about it, he didn’t fantasize about it, he went out and did it.

I put myself—and those around me—through these spells on a regular basis, but on Friday it was extremely bad. My usual song-and-dance had a full orchestra and a score of backup singers.

And it was still eating away at me the following morning. The light of day didn’t take the darkness out of my heart.

During my morning prayers I begged God to get me out of this toxic swamp I had jumped into head-first; my meditation was a mess as I refused to focus on the moment.

For my daily journal entry, I wrote “Fuck the Fabelmans!” in a serial killer’s scrawl, which is cruel, immature, and unfair, but it made me smile a little bit. (Sorry, Steve.)

Tickle the Ivories

Then it was time for qigong, a Chinese exercise system that focuses on healing and wellness.

I’ve been doing these routines for years and I love them. There are tons of exercises on YouTube for just about everything that ails you, including sessions on boosting your immune system, losing weight, and increasing energy.

One of my favorite instructors is Jeff Chand, an acupuncturist and Chinese medicine practitioner in Victoria, British Columbia, who maintains a channel called “Qigong for Vitality.”

I highly recommend his treatment for anxiety, an amazingly simple series of exercises that consist primarily of pushing your hands away from your body.

The idea is that you’re picking up all the foul energy and shoving it out of your spirit.

Jeff tells you straight up that your problems aren’t going to disappear with this workout—but you’ll be in better shape to handle them.

And that’s what I was doing when I heard Kristin, my niece, speak to me.

“It’s time for the turning chair!”

This was a memory of Kristin as child some time back in the late Eighties. The turning chair was an old piano stool in our house, which once had a piano to go with it back in grandparents’ day.

We got rid of the piano but held on to stool, had it refurbished, and used it to hold potted plants.

The stool had a yet another life when Kristin came into the world. She loved that thing the second she saw it and used it to help her stand when she was a toddler.

Give 'em the Chair

The stool also served as a miniature theme park ride, where she’d sit down, I’d give her gentle spin and she’d have a blast.

“It’s a work of art!” she once told me.

“And so are you!” I replied, giving a kiss on the head.

There was one Christmas when we’d opened the presents, ate dinner, and polished off the dessert and Kristin decided it was time for me to give her a ride.

“It’s time for the turning chair,” she told me.

Of course, I happily obliged and while that it was beautiful memory for me, I hadn’t thought about the day in ages, but there it was in my head on Saturday morning.

I instantly felt 1,000 times better and finished off Jeff’s routine without any more whining.

Why did I recall that Christmas from so long ago? I think my subconscious mind wanted to give mysrlf a break; draw the brakes on all the self-abuse and remind me what a lucky guy I really am.

I’m disappointed about losing control like this and wallowing in self-pity. But the one good thing from this experience is to appreciate the power of our minds.

We can do ourselves tremendous harm with regret and self-loathing, but we can also pull ourselves into the light with gratitude and positive energy.

Spinning around in a chair is fun for a child, but if you’re going in circles as an adult, you’re wasting precious time.

Better to get up, face your problems and make some beautiful music.

Comments

Glad that the turning chair worked for your niece as a childhood delight, Rob, and better yet that the memory lifted you out of your dark mood. It really sounds as if you were giving yourself quite a hard time of regrets. The concept of pushing away all the negative energy is a good one and one which I should try as well. Sometimes, I too fall into the trap of thinking about the "what if" instead of appreciating the "here and now."
Rob Lenihan said…

Thank you, Dorothy! I was allowing the regret to takeover and I have to be more attentive to what's going on in my mind.

Mental health is an active process that can't be fixed by wishful thinking.

I really have to take control of my thoughts and--as you so brilliantly point out--appreciate the "here and now"!

All the best!
Bijoux said…
I like the idea of the turning chair, but instead of thinking of it as just going around in circles, how about thinking of it as turning around your attitude? However you thought of this memory, I'm glad it meant something to you!
Rob Lenihan said…

Hey, Bijoux!

Turning around my attitude--I love it!

Thank you so much!

Take care!

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