Forgiveness

Forgiveness.

Yesterday my best efforts at productivity fell perpetually short. I found my forehead pressed into my warm palms after a deep audible sigh on more than one occasion.  In an attempt to make my work even harder for myself, I decided to stay up late writing about it.  I didn’t get the amount of sleep I wanted to before an incredibly busy week.  Instead of winding down, listening to a calming meditation with lemon and lavender floating around the air, I was here, staring at my blindingly blue screen, writing this. 

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My choices in that moment, though, reminded me that I’m operating at my edge. That feels good.  I like it. 

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Historically I have struggled to parent and nourish myself in ways that support my basic needs—especially during times of stress. Currently my plate is nearly overflowing with fulfilling work. Not too long ago, I would need to run away, or take huge amounts of rest in order to find my center, but I am learning to connect to peace while continuing to move forward (or sideways).  I am discovering what to trim (negative self-talk, comparison) and what to allow. 

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Still, my old pattern is showing up. I think I’ve outgrown it, but I expand outwards, stretch myself thin and again it becomes clearly visible. 

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Sometimes I hate this. Why do I keep messing up the same shit over and over again? Why is it always the same issue?  

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But it’s a gift. I know when I begin choosing distraction over fulfilling my basic needs or struggling with consistency, I’m at capacity—exactly where I need to be. Stay here a while and get better. 

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It’s time to play in this unknown and look for the root of resistance. I used to think it was a lack of will, but lately I have almost always found something to forgive. Forgiveness plays an uncomfortably big role in how we spend our time and treat ourselves.  It is the road to love.  One of those roads you start driving on and halfway through it has another name. Do I need to forgive my parents for something? My partner?  Most likely, I need to forgive myself. For choosing every other task but the ones I truly need. For listening to the voice of others over the voice of God inside me.  For playing small.  For not believing I’m worthy of care and nourishment, commitment and consistency, or discipline and time.  

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I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you. 

Balance

Balance. Sometimes we talk about it as if it’s an end point or destination—one we will know when we get there.  Joy, peace, and purpose will be wrapped up in a neat little package, and balance will be the bow that ties them all together.  

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In reality, balance reflects a continual state of change.  It is our ability to make the tiniest of adjustments to stay upright.  Recently, while watching my weekly video in Coach’s Prep 101, I listened to Logan Gelbrich relay the definition for balance in relation to movement.  He said balance is our ability to keep our center of mass over our base of support.  How quickly can we adjust our shape to counteract any sudden shifts? How controlled and efficient are those adjustments?   

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The goal is not to stand still, but to alter our shape or fine-tune our position based on what’s needed, and maybe even have fun doing it. The more demanding the task, the more precise our adjustments need to be, but even if you are simply taking one step forward, you must purposely push yourself off-balance and trust that you will adjust to catch yourself (or practice until you can). 

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Go into the week remembering that similar to this definition of balance, who you are is bound up in the process itself. The negative self-talk and emotions are simply old patterns. If you are trying to get better, failing, and trying again, that’s who you are. You grow, you adjust, you forgive, you try, you change, you learn, you show up, you heal, you love. That’s who you are, and it matters that you know it. 

Change My Mind

When an idea catches my mind more than once, I begin to observe the idea more closely.  I hold it up to the light, roll it around, set it in new places, and view it from odd angles.  I take it apart, getting a good look at how it works, holding each piece on their own before putting it back together.  I rearrange it like furniture and experiment with how it can be used in ways I hadn’t yet imagined.  

I have been doing this recently with the phrase “change your mind,” and exploring how the expression means much more than simply being open to changing my opinions. 

It’s true I see this call to change as an invitation to open my mind to alternate perspectives, find where my assumptions may be limiting, and simply continue learning. But I have also begun to form a new framework.  As I played around with different ways this phrase could be useful and applied in my own life, I understood it not to be a moment of redirection, but of practice. 

I am in charge of changing my mind, unbound to anything I’ve been or done before. I cultivate who I want to be tomorrow in this moment.  I extend the calm of meditation through the day and breathe a prayer for strength over my coffee—though sometimes I feel lonely and anxious.  I am a mountain. Strong. Stable. Steady.  I fuel the adaptations of growth with hymns of self-love, poetry of gratefulness and presence, with playfulness and moments of joy, with intimate connection and deep rest, because sometimes changing your mind isn’t a radical shift of opinion or even an “aha” moment, but a slow, graceful practice of faith.