Growing UP

floating

Growing pains hurt.  That realization that maybe you’re not the best self that you’d like to be.  That moment when you start to question who you are and what kind of impact you have on those around you.  Looking in the mirror, maybe, you could stand to do a little of the work.

I’ve been thinking a lot about perception lately.  The ways that we see ourselves in this life….is not necessarily the way that others see us existing in this life.  Who we are, and how we perceive ourselves is not always the reality of what is.  How do we stand tall in who we strive to be; in the morals, ethics and beliefs of what makes our hearts sing, while simultaneously being un-rigid, flexible, and open to feedback?  Where do we draw the line in the sand of what we believe we deserve?

Our attachments can weigh us down.  Just like a hot air balloon that is anchored to the ground by ropes and sandbags, we too…cling to the people and things around us that feel like home.  Life happens.  People change.  People die.  People move on.  And I find this one of the hardest lessons to accept.  I struggle with this notion, and have, I suppose for many years.  Perhaps a shaky and unstable childhood led me to cling a little bit more…perhaps I hope that sometimes, some people stick.

We get caught up.  We get wrapped up in our notions of right and wrong.  (Or at least, I do, anyways.) We get pigeonholed into a way of being, a pattern of expectation that usually lets us down.  For someone who continually seeks an upward trajectory of growth and learning, letting go of these notions is not always easy.  Growing is not always easy.  And looking in the mirror to discover what patterns of behaviour you continually enact or enable is certainly just the shits.

Letting go.  Accepting change, for me, is one of the hardest things.

Which is funny, cause I move all the fuckin’ time.  (Although, Montreal, God love you, you rocked me steady for ten amazing years.)   You kept me still.

But here I go again.  Pointing the She-Wolf westward and pushing down the gas pedal.  But here’s what I always loved about moving:  you get to reinvent yourself into the very best version of YOU you’d like to be.

And you get to cast your sandbags overboard, and cut all of your ropes.  Not to forget or throw away or diminish.  But to move forward, and upwards and slantways and longways and backways and squareways; buoyant from all the fire and the breath and the love that certainly lifts us up where we belong:

Weightless.

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Hungry Hippos

gulp

You know when you have an idea that is so great, that from the moment of its inception you get carried away by fantasy, imagination, intuition and premeditated success?  You start planning all of the details down to the nitty-gritty while it is still just a neuron firing in your brain, buried in the dark recesses of your skull.  This idea takes on a life of its own, like a river flowing through a marshland in Africa.  Sometimes it lingers, pools, and even stagnates and other times it rushes, trickles and cascades in a cadence that only moving water can create.

The river of this idea eventually leads to the “end result” which is as limitless as the ocean, as clear as the tropics: warm, inviting and teeming with life.

Well, let me tell you one thing for free.  This river of life is giving me an education.

You see, what I failed to understand is that to take an idea, that spark of neuron, and actually turn it into a “real life event” is proving to be a little more challenging than my quick-to-daydream brain imagined.  I forgot that a river that flows through the African wetlands is teeming with crocodiles, hippos and deadly mosquitoes.  They are bathing in the brainstorm of my genius.  Monsters!  And they want to eat me.

Unlike the above-mentioned metaphor, I have no doubts that this idea is a good one. I can clearly see the enormous potential of its success.  But what if I can’t navigate these muddy waters?  What if this river is headed straight for the precipice of a violent and rocky waterfall?

Turning a dream into reality is harder than I thought.  And I feel a little lost, a little adrift, and A LOT scared.  I’m having a hard time surrendering to trust right now, knowing that even if I do plummet over the edge or fail miserably, that everything is and will be exactly as it should.  I’m having a hard time being patient with the process…and I’m clinging because I believe in what I’m trying to do.  Also, because I didn’t really stop to consider a Plan B.

In my mom’s house there is a quote, “A mind once stretched by a new idea never regains its original dimensions.”  Dreams are funny that way.  They take root.  They take on a life of their own.  And they become impossible to shake.

But, don’t fret.  I am not ditching the dream.  I am more tenacious than that.  But it seems as though this river seems to be flowing into a dark, underground cave (also known as reality)….and hopefully, when it spits me out into the clear, tropical waters on the other side,  I will be happily synchronized swimming with my new friends: crocodiles, mosquitoes and hippos—oh my!

boogie

 

 

 

 

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