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 

Accept & Adapt

I’m not much of a sports person. I’ve confessed my lack of understanding when it comes to the running fad. It’s not that I wasn’t introduced to sports when I was young or that I was completely awful at them (I wasn’t completely good at them either). I just find them lacking meaning. Or I struggle to find the meaning. One of the two.

I’m an introvert (will I ever stop writing that sentence?). I’d rather do things on my own to be quite honest. Doing things with other people is exhausting. Maybe this is why I like writing? Sure, someone can critique or edit things, but the actual act of writing? Solo mission.

Sports tend to be a team effort. Sure, there are exceptions – golf, bowling, etc. Some people argue those aren’t even sports at all. Regardless, one of the things I don’t like about sports are the variables. When I played basketball, we would practice plays every single day. Then, we would play in a game and everything would be chucked out the window, because the defense would do something that made our play ineffective. The coach (usually my dad) would call us into a huddle and come up with something completely new. And so our team would adapt.

Here is where it gets tricky for me. I’m not a good adapter. Sure, in my youth, I would go along with things and try my best to adjust. I’d run the play as it was drawn on the little white board and then, suddenly, I’d have the ball and be clueless. Truly, if I could have yelled “Ahhh!”, dropped the ball and run out the room, then I would have.

In the game of life, I have similar issues. Routine is really beneficial to me most of the time. Actually, I like to call it rhythm, because that is a more creative word for something pretty mundane. Yet, things happen. Sick people, depression, behavior problems, job impositions, etc. Maintaining a rhythm is akin to playing a flute in the midst of a heavy metal rock band. Sure, I might be playing to the beat, but nobody is hearing me and my work feels futile. Maintaining rhythm is an inglorious feat.

Just Adapt

I love the people who think rhythm is easy. It is for them. They flow with the fluctuations of life, letting go of what is not serving them. Such beautiful, fortunate people. I’m not one of them. Typically, when I talk to these people about my inability to adapt, then they will say something like “You just have to make yourself do it.” I stare at them like they have a third eye. In fact, I’m fairly certain they do have a third eye. How else can their resilience be explained? Surely, they are super humans.

I am not a super human.

Usually, when something throws me off my game, then I internally have a meltdown. My inner persona is screaming “What is happening here?!?!” while clutching her head and turning in circles. On the exterior? Smile. Smile. Smile. No one knows you are freaking out. Smile. Smile. Smile.

But First, Acceptance.

I am slowly discovering that problem probably isn’t so much about adaptation. The problem is my inability to accept change. Calling it a problem feels icky. Let’s find a new word.  Juxtaposition? Challenge? Opportunity.

My opportunity is trying to accept change. Remember inner persona girl screaming and clutching her head. She needs a moment. She also needs a steady hand, a comforter. Because I’m smiling on the outside, my inner persona gets ignored almost all the time. I’m the only one who can see her. I’m her only hero.

I’ve got options. I can tell someone what she’s doing, letting them know that the smile is just a mask. I’m getting better at this. The number of creepy conversations my husband has had with smiley, crazy girl should earn him a medal. Other options include listening to her, metaphorically stroking her back with deep breathing, encouraging her, reminding her of her strengths. Also, holding up a giant sign in front of her that says…

Everything’s not lost.

Once she has accepted what is happening, she’s actually quite resourceful. More resourceful than I anticipated she could be. Her adaptability is stellar. She just needs to accept things first. I wonder why that is so hard for her? Oh, that’s right!

I’ve been ignoring her for decades.

Well, I’m guessing it will take some time to help her learn the path of acceptance.

Here’s to the journey!

Candidly,

Ash