Resistance is Futile

In the mornings, I wake up and so often I don’t feel like doing the things. Hence, the coffee or other caffeinated beverage. I don’t feel like working out, putting makeup on, getting dressed – so many things.

Recently, I’ve realized something about this mood I find myself in pretty frequently. It is resistance.

Resistance to the person I am becoming.

Our minds like things to stay the same. We are conditioned for homeostasis. Yet, our souls long for more. We desire change.

But changing is hard.

My mind’s desire for homeostasis creates the “mood” of resistance. I just don’t feel like it. I don’t want to….

These are resistance to what I truly want.

I want to be slim and trim, fit and healthy. I want to write and edit and proof. I want to love my children. I want a clean house. I want the day to start off right. This is who I am. This is the jewel inside the crust of resistance.

First, I must recognize the mood of resistance. Then, I must dis-identify with it. It is not me, but a function of my conditioning to want sameness. This is the process of overcoming resistance.

Easier said then done.

Candidly,

Ash

The Movement of Standing Still

Flexibility.

Rigidity. 

I feel as though I cycle through these modes endlessly. Some days, I’m adaptable, tolerant. Other days, I’m stiff, immoveable, uncompromising. 

Some days, I am strong. Some days, I am weak. 

Life holds these moments, passing them to and fro. I see it echoed in the movement of the sun over my head, the passing of clouds in and out of view. I see the earth beneath my feet turn to mush, rainy day after rainy day. I see it harden too, baking in that moveable sun. 

Back to the sun. 

The center of the universe. Unchanging, yet volatile. It stands still. From where I stand, it appears the moveable thing. But I am the thing moving, the thing shifting position, even as I stand still. 

All truths are paradoxes, my friend says to me. 

I think she is right. The sun in its great distance, seems to be standing still. Yet, we know it fluctuates in its volatility. I seem to be standing still, but I am moving at the rate of one revolution per day.

Two things I know – I am changeable. I remain the same.

Both/And.

Candidly,

Ash 

Healthy Thoughts

I don’t feel like writing today. 

I’m not sure I have much to say. I feel good these days. Not too good, because that is a thing that happens to me. Just the right amount of goodness. 

I have that niggling sensation in the back of my mind that something will happen to screw up this goodness. I’ve tried ignoring it, but ignoring is not something I’m good at. I’m one of those people who  literally can’t give the cold shoulder. 

So I’m just acknowledging that its there. I don’t need to grasp it and hold on. I can just let it go. 

Maybe this is the sign of a healthy person – letting go of unhelpful thoughts. 

Am I healthy? 

I’m not sure its helpful to worry and agonize over that one…

Candidly, 

Ash

To Begin

Do or do not, there is no try. 

Yoda’s sage advice. 

For the perfectionist, this statement is a recipe for disaster. The value of trying has merit. It has to have merit. Otherwise, things will never get done. 

I always thought perfectionists did things perfectly. The real definition of a perfectionist is usually someone who doesn’t try, because it won’t be perfect. 

I think I’m a borderline perfectionist. There are many things, especially regarding music, where I have simply not tried, because it wouldn’t be perfect. Yet, in other areas, I’m able to move past the block of perfectionism. 

Recently, I’ve started setting timers and when I feel overwhelmed or worried that something won’t be perfect? I just do that activity for the allotted amount of time and call it complete for the day. 

For instance, right now I’m writing to the tune of a timer, because I didn’t know what to write and was worried it would be stupid. 

But starting has value. Trying has merit. 

To begin – sometimes that is the greatest achievement. 

Candidly, 

Ash

Through the Fog

The fog has rolled in, thick and grey and obscuring. It reminds me of looking at the future. You think you see something in the distance, but then its gone from your sight, only to flash closer again in a few minutes. In the fog, light refracts and it can be misleading, causing collisions and near misses. This is what it is like to count on something for the future, only to have it hit you head on when you least expect it or miss you completely. 

My future and questions about it have been on my mind constantly. Each time, I have to remember the fog, obscuring my long view. When I remember to stop scanning the distance desperately, then I am finally able to see what is in front of me. The tree with brilliant red and orange leaves reminds me that this season is not forever. The muddy ground fills me with the sense that the earth is absorbing all of the rain and will sprout grasses soon enough. The rain is all of the troubles I face, the muddy ground my soul absorbing the lessons to be learned. 

The Bible says that every day has enough trouble of its own. There is no need to dwell on the future. (Matthew 6:34) Even better, I like the words of Eckhart Tolle. “You create a good future by creating a good present.” Focusing on the distance in the fog is useless. It is the present that teaches us, preparing us for the future. 

Carpe Diem. 

Candidly, 

Ash

Laying Claim

Afraid of wanting.

That’s where I am at today. To want something is to face disappointment head on. I think that is sometimes why I don’t admit to myself that I want things.

I want things to be more meaningful. I want to write my truth. I want to write fiction. I want the is in my head to manifest into actual things.

I want so badly to be free.

I am afraid that these things will never manifest. Yet, it all starts with today. What do I do today to set myself free? Do I sit down and write or say that children running around prevented me? Do I let there be excuses? Do I see the meaning in the little things?

Because all of it is there. All of it is possible.

If only I claim it.

Candidly,

Ash

Remembrance

I forgot why I write here.

I had to take a break, because it didn’t feel worth it. I thought I wanted a blog to share a message, to earn a paycheck, to be successful at something for once. I thought I wanted those things.

Turns out I don’t need those things from this blog. I write because every time I do it a little piece of me comes back to life. Dead things rise again when I write. They come to life not because I’m some great writer, but because by expressing them I am set free.

I think this is something that we as humans need. To do something just because it sets us free. It makes us truly alive. Therefore, it has value regardless of whether its popular, appealing or earns us a paycheck.

I forgot all of that.

I’m glad I remembered it again.

Candidly,

Ash