This year has blown by like an unforgiving force of mythological proportions. In many ways the perfect storm.
I look in the mirror and indeed the reflection that stares back at me shows the appearance of someone having weathered some rather extreme cold fronts.
But look a little closer. The eyes are still on fire, the head has a million ideas running through it and this heart still wants to love, needs to love…
I was at my last session with the kinesiolgist earlier this evening. Jae pushed me hard.
And yet, in my head, I still can’t accept that this is all I can do.
I’m remembering such a short time ago when the exercises I did this evening wouldn’t have even broken a sweat. I’ve got some work to do.
And I told Jae that I may never get back to the level I was at before…but at least I’m alive and I can move. Sure, it still hurts but hell, I’ve got to keep trying.
And on the same note I can’t accept what’s happening to me.
I will be competing in a speaking contest of all things. Telling a Tall Tale. Never saw myself doing this. And yet, I’ve challenged myself to speak as well as I write. To become a storyteller in every sense of the word. To have fun, to share some expressions, to leave people I’ve shared my ideas with reason to pause and reflect.
My home is still under construction as am I. Works in progress both of us. Life being coy and whimsical. At times I feel so inadequate and foolish.
I’ve worked so hard to move from such notions. Perhaps its best to just embrace those moments when I don’t feel I fit into my life very well at all. Reality can at times be a bitch when the dream seems so close to fruition.
Pulled back, teasingly. ‘Work harder.’
Decisions are made. Desperate, wanting…
Decisions are reached. Calmly, with forethought…
And I slip into bed with a sore arm, a back tied in knots and legs cramping. Stories are rushing through me and chase me into slumber.
And I’m working, working, working…
Trying to organize my time, trying to organize my life, trying to just live, just be.
At the gym Jae instructed me to do crunches but to have ‘fun’ with them.
“Make a gun with your hands.” he instructed showing me and placing his hands over his head.
“Now come up, pause and shoot between your legs.”
This is weird I decided.
“Think of someone you’d like to shoot, that you don’t like.” he encouraged. ” like…your husband?”
“No…”I didn’t mention I wasn’t married. Mute point.
“I don’t like guns, Jae. And there really is no one I want to shoot…hypothetically.”
I spoiled the fun, I guess.
Still I’m in this odd space these days and like everything…I’ll learn and grow.
Peace.
Power of One by Nancy 