You come home tired; knackered and knocked out. You had the usual day. You probably dozed off that five minutes extra in the morning that triggered the start of a frenzied day. Everything had to be done in a hurry; by the time you got to breakfast, the delay was extended to ten minutes. God alone knows who ate the five minutes you did not even snooze.
Anyway, you either go for a breakfast that is not filling or you skip it altogether. You justify skipping your brekkie saying it will help you shed some weight but you do not want to think about the damage it will cause, including the insulin level in your blood that is now matching economic inflation. You turn on the lousy radio in your car, go through the traffic slower than an old snail. You reach work. Before you take another breath, you log on and fire off an email or two, almost silently declaring your time of arrival.
A hectic day! Pointless meetings, useless attendees, baseless targets, senseless spending, reckless execution, endless emails, mindless planning, and not quite enough remuneration; in short, all the elements were present to make your day the usual corporate day. You spend your day exchanging nods in agreement, when in fact, you violently disagree internally. But for the sake of maintaining world peace, you let it go with a nod and a grin.
You exchange smiles and pleasantries with the one you would happily hew the head off and feed on his gore before walking around holding his hacked head by its hair, like a prized possession, in the manner of a wrathful goddess. I dare not think what would happen if the victim happens to be bald.
It is lunchtime. You are hungry but because of the missed breakfast, skim milk coffee, and consequently raised insulin levels, your appetite is deluded like the conditioned mind. You are not sure what to eat, just like you are unsure why you are even working the way you are. A full meal is a bit too much and just the sandwich is a bit too little. Oh! these choices.
You are asked to lunch by your co-workers. You promptly agree and you all go in a group like a flock of sheep. You land in a noisy restaurant as if the inner turmoil is not enough. Everybody is talking, no one is listening and barely anything can be heard. A natural start, that. You finish that lunch, pay your share of the bill, and get back to work. It feels boringly quiet. You finish the rest of your day.
You start commuting back home. You are too tired to think. Maybe, you take a couple of personal phone calls. You turn on some music and not the radio channel hoping it may relax or excite you. But in between traffic and changing lanes, before you know it, you are home. Maybe you are someone who jumps straight into the shower or perhaps you eat a light meal, brush your teeth and take that shower that makes you feel fresh and light. Either way, after bathing, the most important moment of the day arrives: Lo and behold, it is emerging on the horizon — you slip into your pajamas.
It feels as if the stressful day did not happen. You feel free as the flying bird and quiet as a mouse. Let us not think about your spouse’s decision to flick through each channel on the satellite TV a minimum of forty-seven times. Getting back to you, slipping on your pajamas has done something to you. You feel yourself. You are now laughing, talking, eating, and behaving differently.
The fourteen dollar Walmart-retailed-made-in-China pajamas have done what the four-hundred-dollar Versace trousers could not. You just feel very comfortable. You may have the compulsive disorder of ironing your night suit but that does not deter you for you are being yourself now. What a miraculous pair of pajamas!
I hope you know what is happening behind the scenes. You are feeling free and light because you are being yourself. You do not have to pretend to be someone else. Mostly that someone else is not a person but a role. It may be the role of a competent worker, a kind boss, a friendly peer, a team player at work, a disciplined driver on the road, a good listener on the phone, a caring mother, a loving partner, a compassionate fellow, or a fine daughter and so forth.
You are not given the chance to be in your pajamas. You always have to wear the garb of the role. The guise you put on also as if automatically, brings about some changes, however subtle, prominent or temporary, in your personality. Because now you are ‘playing’ a certain role, you have the invisible burden of getting it and doing it right.
The act of turning inward is like putting on your comfy, wrinkle-free, and soft pajamas. Once you are in your pajamas and you learn to be comfortable seeing yourself clad in them, you not only perform every role far more effectively but also with much greater ease, almost effortlessly.
Living in your pajamas means being yourself. No make-up, no matching shoes or accessories, or carrying yourself in a certain manner, no crap — just you being who you are. You no longer have to laugh softly with great finesse, you can roar like the thunder, peal upon peal if you so wish. Why bother having or wanting anything from those who will only give you that thing if you were a certain way!
Accept others as they are and do not waste your time being someone else if they cannot accept you for who you are. Once you turn the tables on your mind, everything will become clear. You will love everybody in their pajamas and they will only have love and respect for you. All other emotions are now in the dirty laundry with your other garb.
Go on now! Find yourself that pair and learn to live in them. You need to discover yourself before you can be yourself. After all, even in pajamas, an XXL will not give you comfort and warmth if you are designed for an XS.
Discover your own truth. Wear your own pajamas — preferably made from natural material like cotton, for the last thing you want is to have a pair made from artificial fabric. Clearly, you are not getting ready for a fancy dress competition. In your pajamas, you may resemble the mighty pooh or a miniature Teletubby, but whoever you may look like, you will entertain yourself heartily; know that much for a fact.