Sometimes I feel like a floater, subject to the wind, the breeze, a breath, a sudden movement. Sensitive, I feel.
When things are calm, I can find a settling peace, but the purest calm is such a rare occurrence. So, discontent with life as a floater, I have blown around in sadness, yet attempting to hit ground.
Sometimes I feel like a floater, though sometimes I know I am the wind. I push myself around and have of so long that I have forgotten that I don’t have to be either.
I do not need to float, nor do I need to abuse my sensitivity. I can recognize it and choose something else.
Recently, I have played around with the idea that ideas can be played around with. I’ve begun to see that I have absolutely nothing standing in my way right now but myself and my fears and perceptions.
I am realizing that if I don’t chase my life, it will slip away, and that the chase, itself, can look like sitting down and surrendering to whatever might happen after I’ve done all I can do. That once I’ve done all I can do, it will often be enough since it is within my capabilities to do enough and more.
Moving out of my own way, now that I see it is I standing there, that I am the wind, looks like feeling my legs brush together, at times, or feeling my skin fold upon itself, and remembering that I have worked hard to get those sensations. Or it can look like noticing it, feeling uncomfortable, and saying, “So what? Why? That’s it; this feeling will pass.”
Moving out of my own way is saying what I want for my life is greater than my fear of what I don’t want. It is agreeing to being afraid- sometimes when I know it’s going to happen, and sometimes when it catches me off guard. It’s being vulnerable and honest with myself and remembering it’s never too late to pick myself up, but the sooner the better. It’s welcoming change and exploring my reactions.
Moving out of my own way is letting go of my old ways. It is eating an extra piece of pizza and not labeling it as extra. It’s eating more ice cream or trail mix or cookies and letting go of the idea that it’s more. It’s saying this is my new normal. That my new normal may be, and probably will be, uncomfortable, and that’s okay, and that’s probably good, and it will always be this way, but it won’t always feel this way.
Moving out of my own way is right now accepting what I need to do- that I need to move less and eat more- and accepting whatever my body does as a result. It’s knowing that my body, my food, and my movement are all distractions, and, though some things feel good to distract from, I made a decision to and begged to be able to be present in my life.
Moving out of my own way gives me a chance to integrate and find my way; to not float, nor push, but stand solid in my foundation- the one I’ve worked hard to build- and walk into the world I’ve dreamt of and the one I crave, will all of it’s complexities.