Friday, February 3, 2012

Within Your Grasp



"Your hair always looks so nice." she sighed, her voice slightly peevish with envy. "Well, it doesn't look this way when I wake up!" I joked, attempting to shrug off the situation. She sighed again, touching her own dry brittle curls. "It's just not fair!" So I began to cautiously explain that I use a ten minute conditioner on my hair twice a week and a balm in the morning to tame any frizz. Then I generally toss it up in a few hot rollers while I sip coffee and... "That's too much work!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "I don't have time for that!"

Perhaps it was the day....stress....frustration....but I squinted a bit as I replied, "Well, then you don't deserve great hair." Her mouth dropped a little as I turned and walked away.

I admit, I was a bit harsh that day, but I am shocked and dismayed at how many people I encounter in a week that seem caught in a sticky web of immobilized frustration. They're baffled that the world isn't working out quite the way they'd hoped....but in that same moment, don't know who to blame!  And there, my friends, is the goop of the matter.  For blame indeed, is a viscous thing.  As you fling it about, it spatters the room and leaves you covered as much as your targets.....rather maddening, really.

I've blamed.  Lost years a ways back attempting to ferret out who was at fault for the left turn my life had taken.  Alas, the quest ended with me standing in front of a mirror.  The frame chipped, the glass cracked...but truth is truth.  The choices had been mine.  There were other actors on that stage, but I was there as well.  If I wanted something different, something greater--it was up to me.   In that sentence, in accepting that reality, thus enters the magic...

Effort. 

The aspiration, the application, the battle. The discipline, intention and push.  Resolution, struggle.....and triumph.  They are all ours.  It's in the effort where we discover how strong we are. Our capability, our cleverness, and our power.  Within each of us is a life to be lived.  Not endured or tolerated....we were meant for more than that.   

Dreams, desires and goals + effort = success, fulfillment and joy.

Dreams, desires and goals + more dreams = wishes. And if wishes were fishes, we'd walk upon the sea.

Dreams, desires and goals + whining & complaining = will likely cost you the relationship you have with anyone who actually is on the road to success, fulfillment and joy.

I have one thing I tell anyone who is "always late" or "doesn't have enough time" to get something done.  Watch less TV and get up earlier.  Period.  Our nation is in the midst of an epidemic of lethargy.  Yes, you can see it in our physical health--but it's also there in our divorce rates, our juvenile centers, and our alcohol consumption.  I feel like we have taken what is supposed to be simple, and crammed a zillion other things into that equation.  All of the "what ifs" and "buts" that we can imagine; excuses and reasons for our lack of success....when the monster in the room is seated dead center in the rejection of our own potential.

YOU were meant to be amazing.  But amazing doesn't happen by accident!  It doesn't fall from the sky and rarely mails itself to your door.  Opportunity may do that....but then, the amazing part is in your hands.   In mine. 

You want a deeper marriage?  A better sex life?  Respectful kids and an obedient dog, a cleaner house?  Great hair??  Then research, come up with a plan, and begin.

My dreams are certainly different than many, the content isn't ever up for debate. (I once met a woman whose heart's desire it was to dye her hair purple and ride elephants...I smile every time I think of her and hope she is a lovely shade of violet)  Wrapping your mind, your time, and your muscles around the reality that is the dream? That is the beginning.

And the beginning...is within your grasp.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Hobbled





I have been.  This week has drug on...and on.  Confined to bed, off your feet, sit the hell down, couch po-taaaay-toe.  Remember that last post about my spectacular ability to mess my butt up?  Well, this time I have succeeded in award-winning fashion.  Plantar fasciitis.  No, it's not a fungus and you can't catch it off a water fountain, (my first thoughts)  however, it makes one quite suddenly aware of the gift of just....standing. 


The basic run-down is that I have jacked up the arches of my feet as a "recreational athlete" by working out without proper support--for my FEET! (good grief)  The fun part is that recovering from this includes stretches, anti-inflam drugs, wearing shoes with arch supports, and wait--here's the best--icing your feet.  Can you imagine a more enjoyable way to spend the afternoon on a cold February day than ICING YOUR FEET?!?  Yep.  Joyous.  And when we got to this part:


"Most patients find relief within about three months, and over 90% within one year."


I had a heart-attack. 


Threeeeeee months?  Most?  Aaaaaak.  I am the shoeless wonder!  I got married barefoot.  I believe I own....seriously, FIVE pairs of shoes. (I swear, I am female)  One brown pair of sexy sandals, one black, one pair of converse one stars, a brown something or other, and black goes-with-black-slacks-that-I-wear-at-the-office shoes.  And that's it.  Honestly, the shoe-gene skipped me completely  (made up for in the height department, I think) and the thought of having to wear klunky supports in the summer??

 

And so, I sit.  And for those of you that truly know me, This. Is. Killing. Me.  See, the reason that I am a bruised and bandaged walking commercial for Johnson & Johnson on a regular basis, is that I never sit down!  I suppose it was the whole "raised on a ranch with three hundred animals and walked a mile to the bus stop" schtick that caused this, but I am utterly incapable of watching daytime tv.  From drywalling to painting to cooking--with three boys under the age of 12, there isn't a day I don't do laundry.  Nerf gun wars need reffed, bandaids applied (just like their mama, them boys) and the crazy dog is still a puppy--sitting down just isn't an option!  Only now? 


It's an order.


And this week.....I have sat.  I have read more.  I have listened more.  One day I after I finished a novel, I sat and just watched out my living room window...for like an hour.  I sketched out a plan for a possible book.  I wrote letters--REAL in-an-envelope letters to several of my friends I haven't seen in years and began the Rosetta Stone program to learn Italian.  The boys waited on me a bit, and helped out with the dog waaaay more.  And Lord help me, I served Tuna Helper for dinner one night. (cringe) 


You know...I had time to really think.  Some time to reflect.  In-between fits of swearing at ice-packs, I noticed that the light in my house--even on cloudy days--is lovely.  And the sweetest old lady I've never seen before walks her very old dog past my house every day about noon.

I still don't like it.  Not. One. Bit.  But I think it might be a good idea to be hobbled every now and again.  Just to spend time with....myself.