Sunday, January 1, 2012

The bad blogger reflects

Really? I haven't blogged since September? Shame on me. And it appears that people actually check this thing to read my witty stories. Believe me, they have been in my head. But they have remained there as it seems the only thing I have time for is a brief purging of my inbox once a week. Alas, here we are on the second to last day of vacation and while I have managed to do a number of other recreational things (finish an entire book in two days, work on the word puzzles Santa so kindly left in my stocking, peruse the Internet for new bathroom fixtures) I have continued to neglect my blog. It appears that my excuses are officially LAME. About five minutes ago I read a post from a dear friend (and devoted blog follower) that spoke about having either results or excuses but not both, and it hit home. Time is a cruel mistress; she hangs herself out there in increments forcing you to choose between what you have to do and what you want to do, and when she decides to grace your presence for larger chunks you just want to bask in her glow and say, sleep for 10 hours a night instead of dedicating a handful of moments catching up on your favorite pastime: Pontificating. I mean writing. Here we are, a brand new year, and I am resolving to just do things instead of talking about why I don't have enough time (or courage) to do them. And I am resolving to let go. Because that is the other half of my problem. I have already taken steps in that direction - this past week I faced THE WALL at yoga class. Every week I watch this woman 10-15 years my senior hang upside down from the wall while I contently remain horizontal on my mat. But last week our regular teacher was on vacation and the owner of the studio taught class. There were only three of us practicing and he decided it would be the perfect time to have us all hang upside down. The fear of having to flip myself over was pretty overwhelming, but so was the potential embarrassment of being a giant wuss for no apparent reason. So I did it. And it was scary. But the feeling of overcoming something gave me an incredible high. I went home and told CJ that we needed to go rock climbing. He was shocked out of his shorts and agreed immediately (for fear I would change my mind). It was not the heights that scared me, but the letting go of the rope, the trusting of its ability to hold me high up in the air, the feeling of NOT BEING IN CONTROL. My heart was pounding into every inch of my flesh when the instructor told me to let go of the rope and hang away from the wall. But I did it. Survived to tell the tale. And went on to have a great night of challenging climbs. Now it appears my perspective has shifted. Why do we feel the need to hang onto things that only hold us back? Letting go is scary, but I am finding as I lessen my grip on the rope, my head clears and a tiny little rush of invincibility floods my brain. I am not sure what's next, but the excuses are done. Not enough time, not enough courage, not enough...... DONE.

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