Eve of Eve

Tonight, I watched a woman on a documentary say with incredible clarity that yes, she was intelligent, that she had been educated at Oxford and she had a family that loved her sincerely, but she needed to marry a Maasai warrior and go and live with him in Tanzania.  Her feelings seemed overwhelming and so significant that she had to honor them regardless of whether or not it made sense to anyone else but her or for any other reason than the primacy of her emotions.

This is remarkable.   What’s also remarkable, it seems, is that years later, she’s not still with him or living that life.  With equal clarity, that life is not the life she wants anymore.  I find it just as important to be able to change directions even after following your heart or attempting some profound goal.  To see the landscape as it is and not as might be.  That change is inevitable.  That it can be painful and pleasurable in the same moment to to let go of a dead dream.  When it’s truly gone, when it’s truly done, when you’re truly ready to stop pulling the wool down over your eyes, what feelings there are just to see.

I am needing to be a better steward of myself.  I am needing to recognize how necessary it is to mind the body.  Looking back to 2012, I did so well because I chose low-carb and I just pressed myself fully into its requirements. What it said to eat, I ate. What it said not to eat, I generally (no claims to perfection to be had here, of course) did not eat.  A little bit more concentration on having regular movement.  A little bit more concentration on drinking water.  A little bit more concentration and focus on the whole dang shebang and I got somewhere.  I shifted 20 pounds.   Then, I excused myself from trying and instead, thinking that’s what I needed or at least, that was what I wanted, I let the diet fall and die.  And be resurrected and killed over and over again because I wanted it all to feel like it did in 2012 – the clarity and strength of purpose –  without ever really forcing myself to bring every aspect along.   Do a little bit.  Make it easier.  Start small.  Just do the food or just the exercise or just drink water or just…think really hard about it.

When having accomplished that bit, that was so remarkable and mind-boggling.  I was thrilled and terrified.  Now, I feel much less terrified about what a little attention feels like. I am aware that if I want to recreate it….I have to put in the effort to raise the whole house at the same time.  We can’t just do one room at a time.

And if it ends up being the wrong house, well, then, we’ll move.  But at least we’ll have a real roof over our heads for a minute or two.

Excited for the morning.

 

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