The Least Complicated

I think we always know what we're getting into. Deep down, we know.

It doesn't take much for that gut feeling to take shape. It comes together, and then sinks down, nice and low. So low sometimes that we can't feel it. We can't hear it. For the rest of the night, the weekend, or the month. Sometimes for two and a half years. Yes, sometimes we ignore it for that long. But all along, we know.

We know when we justify. And make excuses. And omit key details of stories to our friends. We know when we don't ask them to meet our parents. When we don't call. When they don't call. When we don't go to breakfast in the morning.

He asked for my number on Saturday. He emailed on Tuesday. And he called tonight. And tomorrow, we're... Do I have a date tomorrow night?

SHIT! What am I getting into?

Deep down, I don't know this time. On the surface, it's a little complicated. No, really, it is. Or is it? Deep down, does it really matter? I don't think it should. Maybe at first it will. But deep down, we all know. I mean, it's not that complicated. Number. Email. Call. "Date."

SHIT! I just GIGGLED!

The ones that work are always the least complicated. Hardest to learn, but least complicated.

Where (Heart and) Soul Meets (Mind and) Body

They talk to one another. Oh, sure. All the time. That much I know. But sometimes, I have no idea who initiates the conversations.

Since my body can't move without my mind sending it signals, I'm inclined to think that my mind is in charge. But I think The Body can take over sometimes. For the past three months, I think my body has been trying to control my mind. The result is that my boyd was telling my mind what to go back and tell my body. And what's worse is that my mind seems to have always been following orders!

Throughout the entire summer, my mind has known that it should have been running. And my mind knows how fast each run I actually did complete should have been ran. How long each run should have lasted. When to have pushed through and when to have pulled back. My mind KNOWS. She has done her research.

However, for an entire three months, my body - this LAZY body - has dominated the daily debate:

• Run? Don't run?
• Fast? Slow?
• Give it your all? Give it all up?

My summer had more sit-at-homes than get-out-and-runs. More slowly-shlep-your-feets than swiftly-stride-and-step. More I-don't-want-tos than I-can-do-its. Yes, I'm pretty sure The Body was The Boss this summer.

I haven't been able to write much this summer. Again, it has been a couple of weeks since I last wrote. And while it is true that I haven't had a lot of time to say much, it is also true that I haven't had much to say. And while I'm sad that I haven't had a whole lot to say, I'm more sad about my lack of initiative to really do much about the situation. I didn't take very many steps to get my life back in order this summer. To be true to my priorities, and to make time for what really matters. Something that is both difficult and disturbing for me to admit.

...Today is September 26. SHIT! It's already the end of September. That fact is also both difficult and disturbing to admit, to realize; but it is also comforting. A new season, and a new start. (I know that the current season is autumn, and that autumn isn't normally used in metaphors for starting again, but have you ever seen a San Francisco autumn?) I am pretty that the fall air has inspired my my mind to again rn shop. And I think she's running pretty strong! Because we ran well today. Me and the roommie, AER. We ran to the Golden Gate Bridge and back, for 8 miles in 65 minutes. At an average pace of 8:07/mile. And we felt great.

It is a homecoming that is drastically past due, but nevertheless much appreciated. I am so glad to be back. To that place where my thoughts and actions collide, my intentions and responses synchronize. Where I do what's right instinctively. When my spirit begins to sing and my heart begins to dance. In that place where my heart and soul, along with my mind and body endure.

Empty Your Pockets Until They're Full

I can already feel it before I'm even there. The fear. The pain. And a little bit of dread. But mostly the fear. And as I get ready, the fear only mounts. I open that door and I feel the nervous energy take over. The heat is on. Literally. I swallow the fear that is perched at the back of my throat.

It starts and I am quickly reminded of why I come here. Because with every breath, I am a little bit taller. My head a bit higher, my shoulders less slouched. With every breath, I am a little more confident. A little more hopeful, with every breath. Less fragile; instead, more flexible, easygoing.

I am a little less afraid, with every breath.

Of the pain. In all its shapes and forms. That I am feeling right now and that which I feel all the time. I am a little less afraid of it. Because, I realize, it doesn't last. Not for long, forever. Once I let it in, I can confront it and allow it to pass. So that it ebbs and flows such that my tears well but then subside.

It hurts, it does. For 60 seconds or 60 months, either way. But we can come out of it. We do come out of it. We inhale deeply and we sigh slowly. And we release all that made us clench and twist and wince. We let go of the bite and the snap. We reach that point when we lick our lips and nod our head and move on.

For 90 minutes. For 90 years. We suck and we suck and we suck it all in. We hold it and carry it and too often, refuse to let it go. We strain and we wear down. We hold our breath and we purse our lips. Our hearts boom and we let them.

Until we burst. Until that time when our only remaining option is to let go. To blow it out. To blow it all out. Until there is nothing left. We sigh and we laugh and we cough and we sing and we scream and we sweat and we cry. Until there is nothing left. Until we are empty.

We empty our eyes and our minds and our mouths and our ears and our hearts. We give all that is left of ourselves. We don't stop for 60 seconds or 60 months. For 90 minutes or 90 years. We empty ourselves over and over and over again.

Until we are full.

Chain Two

Well, today it happened. Finally. I got sick.

I woke up to a sore, dry throat. And a headache that should only be felt on a Sunday morning after a fantastic wedding. 16 hours, 16 glasses of water, and 8 advil later, I still can't seem to evade the pounding in my head.

It seems as if the summer has caught up with me. Of course! One day after I finally woke up on the RIGHT side of the bed. And had a calm day at work. One day after I developed new ideas for how to overcome my lack of ambition... (More to come, naturally.)

And so, I sit on the couch. Crocheting a blanket. Trying to focus on something other than the hammer that is pounding against the back of my left eye.

Single crochet, chain one, single crochet, chain one, single crochet, chain two...

The No Ambition Tour

I just can't seem to pull myself out of bed in the morning. And I can't seem to escape from my desk in the afternoon. Er, evening, really. I haven't been getting home until well past the start of Prime Time television shows. Good thing the new seasons have yet to start.

I've been away from home weekend after weekend after weekend since... SHIT! I don't even remember the last time I sat on my couch on Saturday morning. And while I still do love to travel, I am realizing that I love it a little bit less these days. Since I have a great apartment and a fabulous roommate and an adorable cat...

I just haven't felt myself lately. I can't focus. On anything. As soon as I give my attention to one project another one starts screaming at me. And quite often I find that I am only half listening to people when they're talking to me. I'm walking into walls and bumping my head on doors. I keep losing my keys. My wallet. My cell phone. My mind...

I feel like I am falling apart.

And I'm pretty sure the only way to fix this feeling is to rest up, eat right, and exercise. But I can barely bring myself to lace up the Asics or roll out the yoga mat. All I want to do at this point is stare at my ceiling.

So that's what I'm going to do... Thus, my ambition-free weekend continues.