It's not going all that well, actually. I can't seem to get out of my head, which, lets face it, has a significant raspberry-blowing, snarky, cynical, show-me-the-money side. For example, on Wednesday, the first exercise we were invited to do involved writing ourselves letters from our wisest and kindest older self.
"Imagine the oldest, wisest and most kind version of you is sitting down at a desk to write you a letter of encouragement. What would the Kind You say? What permission would be given? Hold this image in your mind, then pull out a piece of paper."
I still have not done this.
Because my BRAIN thinks this is one of those new-agey, touchy-feely, ridiculous exercises in narcissism.
My heart, though?
My heart is sort of, kind of, very gently offering up some phrases I might use --in odd moments when my brain's not looking. Things like, "kinder to yourself" and "slow down and take some time to breathe," and "figure out what you're really feeling, and ask if you're letting yourself feel that, or if you think there is some other way you're SUPPOSED to feel."
And then the clincher: "Maybe you need to get out of your head for a little while and explore the longing you have to connect with the world in a different way."
So, last Friday, on my way to yoga, I hit a patch of black ice in my driveway, and I fell down in quite a spectacular way.
Black ice is new to me --we didn't have it in my part of Texas. It LOOKS just like wet pavement but it's ICE. And in the case of MY spot of black ice, it's caused by the run-off from the roof falling onto the pavement and washing away the ice melt and salt that would ordinarily be a good defense. Then it refreezes and lies there, just waiting for me to come out.
|See? It's very deceptive, the Evil Black Ice. Looks like wet pavement, is really Death Waiting To Befall (HAH! Pun!) Me.|
It didn't help my ego to know that this was the same exact patch of ice that my older daughter Ana fell on the night before, and that I didn't learn from her fall.
So, then, on Sunday? When I fell AGAIN on the same (censored) patch of ice, this time really banging the heck out of my knee so that going to yoga is now in question?
Then I REALLY felt inept and stupid and graceless and all kind of other negative things that my brain kept offering up.
But my heart? My heart said to me, "OUCH! Let's get you an ice-pack, sweetheart. Don't you dare feel embarrassed about falling. Everyone falls. But, as long as we're talking...um...maybe there is a lesson here. Maybe if you continue to do the same things in exactly the same manner, you are destined to fall down a lot. Maybe you...I'm just saying...have to address that patch of ice. Because if it goes unaddressed, it might stop you from doing what you really want to do. In this case, I'm talking about going to yoga. I'll let you think about any other implications, because you're really smart."
Deep breath. And okay, then: