Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

Maybe it was ready to be broken.

August 26, 2016

 

I really have no moment-before (so to speak) prompting this particular Satya. Sometimes things just come that, apparently, need to be said. I'll try and try to change the idea I've begun with, but it always fails. So here we are, apparently, ready to be broken. When this happens--when these Satyas come out of (seemingly) nowhere--I've learned to go within, see why this idea surfaced; there's always a reason. So. What's ready to break in my life? What could I drop? Or, maybe, what have I already dropped, accidentally? 

 

All I can think of is this (and, honey, is this ever ready to break--I'll sweep the pieces out and dance them to dust, given the chance): my chronic resistance. Resistance to what? Well, everything, I suppose. Change, namely. New challenges, sure. But the core of it? A resistance, a refusal, really, to believe I'm capable of whatever's next on my list: a new class I'm teaching, a new role I've taken up, a new job, a new skill. My first thought is: I'll fail. They'll hate me. Everyone (employers, clients, friends from college who may have lent me five bucks here and there) will want their money back, their investment. Students will roll their eyes and wilfully ignore me or, worse, complain. 

 

All of this resistance leaves very little room for any kind of self-worth (no surprise--resistance is all kinds of bloated and just loooves to take up both seats on the bus, leaving you standing for hours). 

 

So. Maybe that's the old, ugly dish I'll break today. Or maybe I'll just drop the whole moldy box: resistance, disgust, timidity, distrust, and wretched, self-imposed exhaustion. 

 

Drop it all. Dance it to dust. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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