As much as I want to start every morning ready to face whatever comes my way, there are those days that knock me down, saw off my legs, and leave me to crawl through the mire; those days I curse change, especially unasked for ch-ch-ch-changes, and feel stuck. Helpless. During those moments I wrestle desperately with myself. You know that feeling? It’s two steps forward and one back, until you are either worn down by the whole affair, or you move yourself into the light.
I really don’t know what it is about change, but unless I feel like I have a hand in it, I resist. Truth be told, even then, I resist. Yet all around me, the long dormant trees are bursting their spring song. Their flowers open to sun or rain, to wind, warm or cool. As I trudge up the steep hill beyond my home I can’t help but see the constant metaphor all around. I pronounce, aloud, I don’t care about being figurative! Why can’t life let me be still for just a few seasons? Let me root a bit? Haha. That’s me laughing at myself. Why root? Why not blow in the breeze? my poet self asks. Why not have an interesting story to tell on a winter’s night? And so, I raise my gaze. Breathe in the honey air, relish the pinky white, hear bird chatter, and move myself along.
With this subtle shift I can admit, there is much to help us along our ways, to keep us healthy and happy. Morning meditation is my start of day practice, a steady exercise set for the afternoon, time to socialize with my sweetie over dinner, all with the hope that I keep positive, even in the midst of upheaval. I try to keep my physical and mental states balanced despite whatever is headed my way. Not alone mind you, but with all the help I can garner, from the stranger holding the door open at the bank, to a trusted friend who sends a smile emoji.
Whatever it is that you do to keep afloat, I wish you well. Actually more than well. I wish that you have a greater ease with change, that you see the road ahead as an enticing journey, that you can appreciate when the sky is blue, when the breeze is warm, when the canopy overhead shields you, and when none of that is possible I hope you can find a helpful hand to navigate those sticky or prickly changes. Close your eyes. Find your breathe. Call someone who loves you. Get outside. This is your walk after all.