Meanwhile, Back on Earth

Music: Jupiter's Child, by Steppenwolf

Overhead, planes take off, planes land, and today I am neither flying them nor riding on them. This week, I am earthbound, my neck craned upward, eyes squinting at the sky, heart leaping, feet twitching controlling rudders. As I drive, I remind myself that on earth I am limited to 65 mph, that I will not achieve take off if I push my Volkswagen Jetta up to 90 mph. I feeder hop, argue with my GPS, take back roads, promise myself a trip to Candler Field Museum to see the vintage exhibit.

This week, I clean and bandage, juggle gauze and tape, explaining treatment to concerned loved ones. I explain pain cycles to frustrated patients whose bodies are not reacting the way they expected. I see their eyes grow round, reaching into me for answers. If I see something surprising, I react outwardly with all the calmness and surety I can muster. I project confidence, partially because I feel it, and partially because that is what they need from me. They sigh and relax, knowing someone more knowledgeable is in charge. Then they trust you, and then they tell you more. "And hey, before you go, would you take a look at this..." Facades are dropped along with trousers, and I pull a lamp over and focus a light where the sun don't shine. "Jesus", I think. Did we cover this? I take a deep breath and silently offer my usual inelegant but honest prayer, "Good God almighty and whoever else might be listening, please let me be doing this right." They listen to me intently as I explain Dermatology 101, treat, and give after-care directions as I re-adjust the light, help them pull up their pants and snap off the latex. I wonder if everyone goes through this.

And yet there are moments when I am so in flow with what I am doing it is as if I am watching myself from a distant planet. I hear my voice coming out of me, speaking so confidently, that I swear it is almost as if the gods are speaking through me and I am simply a conduit. This is what Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi speaks of in his work on achieving flow. I am lost in the work, it is no longer work, it is play, it is something beyond play. It is restful because there is no resistance. I find my rest in my work. Not all moments are like this, but some are. It is another way of slipping the bonds of earth, and I am grateful for it when it happens.

Suck it, Gravity. One way or another, I'm taking you down.