Tag: writing

Master of the Bedroom

Leave a comment

img_3899

908. That’s how many items are in my master bedroom before I even count my husband’s clothes. I did count every piece of jewelry, scarves (I have a problem there, for sure) and unmentionables. I counted earrings and socks as pairs.

As I was counting, and getting so sleepy, I pulled some items out and put them aside. There is a lot more I want to rehome. I get into that space that I just don’t care about any of it anymore, just want to let it all go. And then I come across something with a sweet memory attached and emit a tiny little swoon, the angel on my shoulder stroking my hair as I fall deeper into my personal history. Or, on the other shoulder, that snarky devil in a hissing whisper baits me with, “you may need that one day.”

There is no easy way to do this.

I have to touch every single item in my home. I brought them all here, they deserve that consideration before letting them go.

I keep reminding myself that so much stress in the world has to do with the management of things. Aside from actual noun-stuff, this also includes appointments, social media, food, relationships, pets, health and I’m sure I’ve forgotten 437 other things.

So if I have less physical stuff, I am jumping to the magical conclusion that I’ll have more peace. More space. I may even at some point find a way to organize all my computer files, delete, shuffle, file. But that’s for another day. Maybe a whole ’nother year

Nine hundred and eight. That’s a lot of stuff. If you saw the drawer in my nightstand (which you can, above) or my tiny “walk-in” closet you would think that perhaps I already live minimalistically (word?); things are neat and there’s space. My nightstand drawer only has about six things in it now. All necessary, if I may be so bold: 2 eye pillows, my Nook charger, a reading light (for late night nook-less reading), a few emery boards and book marks. It’s really pretty pitiful looking. But I’ve made my peace with the space.

Although…up rises another voice, the interior designer in me that say, “oh you need a cute little box, or maybe several to keep that stuff from slidin’ around.” (She’s from the south.)

In the process I did remove 43 items from the drawer – 29 were book marks. The book monster will appear more than once in this love story…

The objects on top of my nightstand have been there a long time. A candle from Jamaica, a photo of the Lare and I, a mala, a rock from Long Island with a small stuffed animal sitting atop it and a large quartz crystal along with my lamp. And lotion, there’s always lotion.

The photo stays, it’s almost 20 years old. I feel like the crystal is doing some good so it gets a pass, but I could offer the candle to someone who might appreciate its sweet honeysuckle scent. I could gift the little stuffed animal and I could put the rock in my garden. But do I need to or am I being ridiculous?

For now it all stays.

The purging part of this grand experiment comes later. I want to identify my collections, shine a light on where my tendency to hoard comes into play. I have to confess to inordinate number of pillows – 11 just in this room – an excess of potted plants and hand towels. So far.

I know where the desire to accumulate is coming from, but that’s a deep dark secret we all hold. I’m not alone. We’ll chat about that at a later time.

Total stuff count to date: 1,893

Let me remind you that I have not even counted a full room. According to the website Becoming Minimalist, the average American home has over 300,000 items.

This may take a while.

 

 

Full of Dirt and Good Intentions

2 Comments

img_3780

Since I was already sitting there, on the back patio, I decided to catalog my back yard.

My criteria for “stuff” seems to be anything I could pack up and move with me. So not the trees or plants rooted in the earth, or even the stone patio we set, but the items I usually bring in when a hurricane threatens to blow through, are what made the list.

I have always wanted to landscape my tiny back yard so that I couldn’t really see the fence surrounding it. I’ve been here 16 years (it was supposed to be five) and this has not happened on purpose or through the beauty of managed overgrowth. But I still love my organically messy back yard. We planted native trees when we moved in alongside the existing orange tree and rubber tree, so it’s much more lush, but still not the garden of my imagination.

It is small. My porch, which is huge, probably eats up half my yard. If it weren’t for the mosquitoes, I’d probably do away with the screen that divides the two spaces. But, Florida.

Because of my greenish-brown thumb, I employ a lot of potted plants – 30 to be exact. This way, I can move plants that are floundering to a different spot. More shade, more sun, eastern exposure, southern. There are a few of these in the front yard as well, but I’m getting a head of myself.

I have a small scrolly table with 4 chairs I inherited from my great uncle. It’s aluminum I think and the paint is peeling, but maybe that’s part of its charm. On it is a collection of those pots I mentioned, full of nothing but dirt and good intentions. In addition there is a hand made decorative plate I got from somewhere, filled with water. We have a bird bath in the front yard and the doves love it. The doves also love our back yard so I thought I would treat them to a second option. Since “installing” the back yard bird bath I have hosted not only doves but blue jays, cardinals, titmouses (titmice?), finches, generic brown birdies and squirrels. If I sit very still on the patio I can watch them drink and bathe without being noticed.

Then there are the chairs. Not the ones that match the table, the other 4 randomly strewn throughout the tiny space like some modern art installation. An art critic may note the longing of the two empty chairs seated next to one another, waiting, waiting for two lovers to return. Or the solitary chair facing east as if it’s former occupant sat anticipating the sunrise each morning. I’m not sure what this critic would say about the aqua chair with peeling paint and no seat.

I have a favorite sculpture I bought many years ago that is made from soldered metal parts that once belonged to other things and now through the mind of a Frankenwelder it has become a beautiful rusty bird. I’m a little attached to it.

Like the patio, I could let all of this go – except my bird maybe – but I enjoy it while it’s here. The extra chairs? those could find another home. Between all the chairs outside and all the seating on the patio I could comfortably seat 22.

Aside from the pots of plants and dirt, there are a few stone statues – one of an angel, one a monkey – a plaster St. Francis, cause he loves all the critters of course, an unattached panel of fence hiding out of sight and a stack of slate tiles meant for something greater. Oh and there’s a tiny table between the two chairs for those lovers so they’ll have somewhere to put their tea. Because surely they would have tea. Or maybe wine.

Total number of items in the back yard: 65

 

Juiced Up

Leave a comment

img_3848

When I first dreamed up this year of the purge thing it included a few components: body, mind, home, life. The results or byproducts of clearing and cleansing those aspects would include, more energy, more peace, less stuff, and higher consciousness regarding things and their impact on the planet and my life.

Oh, and, more time and money for travel. All roads lead to another road to wander down. There’s always an end game. But I am content to be in the process and see where else it takes me.

I’ve been working on the home aspect, having counted a few areas and filled at least one bag for donation, handed off random things to people I thought may enjoy them, and made lists of other items to go. Now it’s ime to switch gears a bit.

Onto the body. A little cleansing of the meat suit. Which brings us to juicing.

I love juicing. I have mentioned this. As far as a way to cleanse the body and shoot it through with energy, I have found no better, kinder way than juicing.

Like all things good for me, I let juicing go for a while. Why do we do this? Why do we say, ‘oh, yoga is great, I always feel so open and calm after I do yoga,’ then not do yoga for a week? Or is that just me?

Anyway, I thought I had unlocked that mystery or at least crafted a workaround where juicing was concerned.

Like all things awesome there is another side.

THE DOWNSIDES OF JUICING:

It takes time. Vegetables need to be rinsed. I remove the stalk of the kale to help preserve the life of my juicer, so that takes some time. I also remove seeds and stems from apples and pears, cut up large carrots and celery stalks. Maybe most of that isn’t necessary, but it works for me.

And money. A mound of greens the size of a Volkswagen Beetle produces about 12 ounces of juice. Organic greens are not inexpensive. I would love to grown my own and hope to plant as soon as it’s time, but until then, I buy.

Plus, juicers don’t come cheap. A good one will be $200 and up.

Waste. Once the liquid is extracted, all the fiber gets shot into the waste bin and it’s a lot. If you don’t have a compost bin, it just goes into the trash. That health fiber could be the start of the aforementioned garden.

Back to time: Most juicers have many parts and they all have to be cleaned. Mine has 7.

THE UPSIDE OF JUICING:

Energy, cleansing, energy. Juicing as opposed to smoothies provides a shot of nutrients because the fiber is removed. There’s nothing to slow down the digestive and assimilation process. I’m a big fan of smoothies too, but if it’s energy in a hurry I want, juicing is my go to.

So how to minimize all this if I’m in a time crunch?

THE WORKAROUND:

Purchasing cold pressed juices I trust. I am partial to the brand Suja. Until, of course, I learn that they have been purchased by one of the major soft drink companies who will undoubtedly change the formulas to include some sort of poison wrapped in a healthy name I can’t pronounce. But, as of yet, this has not happened. I hope. But, these juices come in plastic bottles and that makes me a little sad.

Knowing that 80% of what we toss into our recycle bins ends up at the landfill gives me pause every time I purchase something. It’s daunting. It has to be a process and that’s what I’m in the middle of right now.

Instead of taking the shortcut and buying my energy – and honestly the effect doesn’t seem as immediate with the store-bought elixir – I have to change some habits. I have to be consistent in what time I get up each morning to allow enough time for this important aspect of The Plan.

There is a back-up plan. A back-up to the back-up, if you will.

THE OTHER WORKAROUND:

Smoothies. I have my eye on a Vitamix. I have a 20% off coupon and a $100 gift card that will drop the price to about $350 but that is still an investment. Smoothies also have incredible health benefits with the added bonus of less produce waste and more options. I can throw a banana or an avocado in a Vitamix along with wheat grass powder and almost anything else. And the best part? One thing to clean and it does that on its own.

But it’s another appliance. *SIGH*

This mindful conscious thing is a lot of work. It’s a process. And totally worth it.

 

Drawers of Rocks

4 Comments

rocks

So much secret stuff.

I began on my back patio, seated on a glider at one end I simply looked around. On the whole there’s a lot of empty space to walk around the furniture, but there are silly things lurking inside some of the pieces that have drawers and other hiding places.

I counted all the furniture, potted plants, lighting (lamps that could be moved, not hard-wired fixtures), wind chimes, hanging tea light holders and gas grill. All pretty reasonable. I could probably do without the bar stools, hutch and small desk. I don’t need the grill, it was given to us and we’ve never used it, it should go to someone who will appreciate it.

As far as decorative items go, I have some cool pieces from Bali and other exotic places, but most were procured from a design firm/store I worked for and not from my own travels. Still, there are some keepers among them. For now.

Now for that hidden treasure…

Aside from all the furniture things can sit on, there are three pieces that contain mysterious items inside. Let’s take a look.

In and on the Teak hutch:

  • Balinese dragon cigar cutter – big wooden painted awesomeness
  • Old Indonesian pots
  • Old Indonesian house part – some carved wood thing that used to be on a house
  • Big ceramic cat
  • Wooden vase with curly willow and eucalyptus
  • Plant pots (terra cotta, metal, etc.)
  • Buddha head
  • Laughing Buddha statue
  • Kokeshi dolls
  • Tibetan temple bell
  • Small wooden elephant from India (my travels)
  • Indonesian tube thingy – carved and cool, but no idea what it really is
  • Small glass bowl
  • Incense holder
  • Ashtray – This is a terra cotta donkey “ass” tray. Cracks me up. Still one friend who smokes.
  • Candle holders – so many
  • Decorative rocks – seriously? Why? Two drawers full. Full. Small drawers, but still.
  • Small Buddha tea light holder
  • Candle snuffer – what century is this? Not one, but two.
  • Glass and silver plated coasters
  • Cork coasters
  • Essential oils
  • Eye dropper for oil
  • Ceramic lizard
  • Oil diffuser for light bulb
  • Small metal donkey – admittedly I have a thing for donkeys
  • Balancing kit for ceiling fans
  • Large iron plant hooks
  • Small iron plant hook
  • Loose tiles (for hot pots on the glass table. Maybe)
  • Random pieces of bamboo – for?
  • Chopsticks (pair), because?
  • Random drift wood
  • Heavy iron cauldron under the hutch. Pretty cool if you’re a witch.

In and on the Desk:

  • Bird puppet
  • Indonesian metal bird
  • Bag of tea lights
  • Citronella candle
  • Witches balls
  • Big ornaments
  • Wooden lizard from Jamaica
  • Lighter
  • Decorative turtle
  • Decorative frog – 2 just because
  • Cat toys – big with trapped balls
  • Unused seat cushions
  • Iron lizard candle holder
  • Bee catcher
  • Small rusted bird bowl
  • Soft pad thingys that get nailed into furniture feet – because we wouldn’t want to scratch the concrete

In the bench seat:

  • Hose nozzle – 2
  • Mosquito coil – 2. I don’t even know how these work, if they work.
  • Old metal paint bucket
  • Random candles – so many candles
  • Old rag – lovely
  • Old scrub brush – even nicer
  • Light bulbs
  • Rocks – what is with the rocks!
  • Remote doorbell
  • Bamboo stick
  • Old sock (rag, I hope)
  • Battery operated push light
  • Macrame Tibetan bell door hangers
  • Plastic grocery bags – so many. We don’t even use these anymore.
  • Paper bags
  • Part of a gutter guard screen – ripped and mean

In all the 675 square feet that is my back patio oasis, holds 366 items. Not for long.

I have to say, if someone came along and stole everything on my patio, I would be okay. There are no sentimental items or precious pieces. I love my patio and spend a lot of time on it, so I would miss somewhere to sit, and obviously some of the items, but I’m not at all attached. Good start. It’s not all gonna be so easy.

I know there will be some sticky places and some things will take forever to count – I have been making jewelry for over 15 years and playing with art and photography forever – but I’m committed.

Mostly I am curious to see what I learn about myself and what I’m ready to let go of. And really, how I will feel with less stuff. I’m imagining lighter, but I’ve learned the heartbreak of anticipation and expectation too many times, so I’m open to whatever the experience is here to teach me.

Here’s to a year of purging, playing and practicing mindfulness.

Oh, I forgot the curtains – make that 382.

 

 

 

Where to Begin…

2 Comments

img_3842

Okay. So I’ve made this decision: The Year of Living Mindfully or Consciously. Or The Year of Counting All My Stuff. Or The Year of the Purge. Now where do I start? How?

As I meander from room to room in my not at all large home I become overwhelmed with all that I know is hidden. Desks, chests, cabinets, closets, even vintage suitcases are home to “things”. And some stuff is flat out mocking me by boldly sitting out for all to see. I have to start somewhere.

This is where most people get stuck. Where I am in danger of procrastination.

The whole mess put all together, especially if I start thinking about the black hole that is the garage, pushes me backward onto the couch in analysis paralysis. I look around for clues. Stare blankly at a plant. Gaze outside hoping for a distraction. I can clearly see the organization necessary, the putting back of things. I see that this needs to go here and that needs to go there, but the thought of pulling stuff out of their secret little hidey-holes and exposing them to daylight makes me sleepy.

I could start the old-fashioned way: pick a drawer or small closet to tackle first. Use a timer so I don’t overwhelm myself. This would be the advice of the Fly Lady and countless other organization gurus.

I could take the advice of Marie Kondo in the book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing, and compartmentalize my stuff. Start with clothes first, then papers, books, etc. Her strategy is to pull all the pieces of one category together, touch each one, hold it up and ask yourself if you love it, or something along those lines. I did this with my clothes, books, papers, then shifted to spaces like the kitchen. Mostly it worked but I got a little stuck when it came to art supplies, artwork, and memorabilia.

Or I could use the Minimalists tactic of boxing up everything I own. Everything. And as I need something take it out of the box. After a month or two, whatever I didn’t pull from the boxes gets donated or otherwise released.

Or I could simply keep researching the best way and avoid the actual work.

I need to think and start small, the garage IS NOT the place to begin, or even look, until I get this project underway.

I will start with my master bedroom. It’s a simple space. Clean. I’ll begin with the contents of my bedside table drawer. I never open it except to retrieve my Nook charger. But there are other treasures in there.

Or, no. As I contemplate this I am sitting on my back patio. The weather is perfect, there’s a breeze and my bird friends have come to sip from the makeshift bird bath on top of the table. The table, birds and bird bath are all outside the screened enclosure, but the patio itself, inside the screen, is home to 675 square feet of hiding places. THIS is where I’ll begin. Stay tuned…

Speaking of the Dead

Leave a comment

soaring vultures

I was sitting in the back of the room with the other yoga nidra facilitators listening with half an ear to the teacher in the front. I can’t even tell you who it was. I don’t remember. In my distracted state, I cut my eyes toward the giant picture windows to my right – I do this often – and between the lush, old stately trees I could see the lake sparkling. A small hole between branches provided the perfect view of a cerulean blue sky and in that tiny hole a vulture soared.

Another one.

They are everywhere in Florida. They are everywhere, period. But they are in my awareness more than almost any other creature.

During this 10 day training I have entertained hoards. At one point, I was peacefully rocking myself back and forth on a swing, enjoying the breeze coming off the lake, lost in the lapping of the water against the shore; I leaned forward for some reason and when I looked up dozens of vultures were making their way across the sky above me. They were low enough for me to see the holes in their beaks and hear their wings flap as they gained purchase against the wind.

They kept coming. I was awestruck. I have never seen so many aloft at once.

I stood, as much as a salute to their humility and grace as to close the gap between us by another foot or two. I longed – long – for one to swoop down and sit beside me. They are clearly my animal totem and I simply adore them.

No matter when I looked up, during this ten-day training, they were there.

As I sat in the back of the room watching my friend soar effortlessly, I thought, “What are they trying to tell me?”

“Clean up your dead.” It was as if that single vulture had stopped, looked me in the eye with hands on hips and said, “Clean up your dead.”

The meaning simultaneously accompanied the words, yet I tried to analyze it, figure it out. It was an opportunity, in that moment, to simply say, “ok” and let it all go. But I needed to know more. I needed to figure out what my dead was. Which relationships, beliefs, habits was I supposed to let go of? How should I clean them out, how will I know if I have?

This gift that was handed to me became a light that revealed a pattern that doesn’t always serve me. Planting a thought in my brain then attaching a million other thoughts to it. Trying to figure things out.

Sometimes I just have to say ok. And so I did. Sort of.

I am using this command, ‘clean up your dead’ each time I find myself hooking into a thought pattern that isn’t serving me. I won’t catch them all and it will be a process of recognition and repetition until finally it’s not. But I’m committed.

And if I hold on a little too long to the dead weight, I have plenty of airborne friends around to remind me.

21 Day Challenge – Day 20 – Back Off, He’s Mine

Leave a comment

Rowers at Sunset

I think I may be suffering from attachment.

While at the gym this glorious morning I commenced my typical routine: 5 minute warm up on the treadmill, weights, rowing, sometimes a little more cardio after the rowing, but always those first three.

Today started out like any other day. Treadmillls were pretty full, but there were a few slots open. Someone was on one of the weight machines on my list so I moved on to another one. Then back to the first and finished my weights. Coffee and water sent me to the restroom.  Then I was all set to row.

But, what’s this? There are two women on the rowing machines. I know I haven’t talked about him much because it was his brother I grew fond of first, but Rowan has an identical twin, Rowland. But I can tell the difference.

Both Rowan and Rowland were being courted before my very eyes. The women who occupied each seat were chatting with a woman standing between them. It was not anything important, I could tell. She should leave at once and allow her friends to work out and move on.

I walked slowly past the occupants, staring them down with what I hoped was a non-threatening but confident look that said, “If you’re not going to take this seriously, I’d like you to get up, so I can. And have a nice day.” I didn’t exist to them.

The interrupter left and they both began to row. Next to my two favorite men is a line of about 259 treadmills. The first two closest to them were taken so I chose the third. I was watching, ready to strike. Normally when I do those first 5 minutes I walk at a decent clip, 3.6-4, now I was sauntering, maybe stalking at 2.5. Measured, alert.

Five minutes in they stop.  I stop and hop off. They’re chatting to each other, one has her phone out. I approach. The one on Rowan starts again, while Rowland’s suitor continues to browse YouTube. Short of sitting next to them on the carpet and staring them down, I’m at a loss.

Behind them are the Precor elliptical machines. I take the closest one. Again I walk slowly. But, oh, this machine is interesting, a slight variation of the other ellipticals. It moves my feet a little differently more like stair climbing meets elliptical. I kind of like it. Temporarily distracted like a baby with keys I realize I’m not here to enjoy this. I must stay focused.

She’s not moving, her feet are dismounted, she’s just surfing the web. I make my move.

“Are you done?” I say in the sweetest way.

“Oh, yes, I’m so sorry.” That’s right. She moves away and meets up with another friend while Rowan is still occupied by the more serious of the two.

But I am home now.  Sculling down the river feeling the wind on my face, my eyes tearing in the cool morning air, watching the soft pink morning grow brighter with each moment. All is well in my world.

And I might have a little attachment issue.

21 Day Challenge – Day 19 – Drama Queen

Leave a comment

Close-up of young female friends gossiping in the living room at

I am surrounded by drama, but I don’t usually engage, thereby making it non-existent. She said.

I have a theory about drama. In our culture it seems to be a necessary component to balance, but it is a huge pendulum swing. Small moments of contentment are interrupted by volcanic erruptions of yelling and crying or gossiping and well, drama.

When things become too smooth, we feel the need to stir the pot. Anyone’s pot will do. If we can’t find an appropriate pot to stir, we call the one person who will stir ours creating an amalgam of physical and mental reactions, somehow convincing us, this is what it feels like to be alive.

My brother lives in California – the birthplace of drama – and he gets involved in someone’s drama all the time without even realizing it. It seems if you live in a place with a perfect climate you have to create your own weather patterns.

Here in Florida we have plenty of dramatic weather. Awesome billowy, threatening clouds, torrential five minute downpours, hurricanes, fog and once every 10 years or so a freeze. Nature provides our drama. We have venomous snakes, near deadly spiders, sharks, bears and alligators. If you want drama, go for a walk.

But we can put on a good show here too.

Since studying yoga my need for drama has decreased immensely. Every now and then someone will push a button and I’ll react, but I’ve been shown that it is my button and that person is pretty blameless, so I chill and take a look at what it is that I bring to the table that caused me to react. Truthfully , this self-reflection doesn’t always happen and certainly not in that instant, but it shows up more often than not making me pretty laid-back.

This study has also allowed me to clearly see where people are coming from. Lost, unheard, scared, etc. which makes interacting with them easier.

But like any bad habit, we usually need to commute those tendencies elsewhere. It needs to be replaced, preferably with a good habit. My drama habit just changed clothes.

Most of my life the drama that has been playing out in my head has to do with my body. Berating it for not looking like Cindy Crawfords. Shaming it for gaining weight when I shove an extra cupcake in my mouth. Whining about it when it doesn’t want to get up off the couch. This is all happening internally.

It’s my personal soap opera. And I watch it with half-interest while slunk down on the coach eating potato chips.

If everything is energy, then these thoughts and beliefs are energy too. I’ve taken the external drama and shone a light on the internal drama, so now I can replace it. Hopefully for something good.

Working out helps. Dancing helps. It’s very dramatic to try to lift weights that are just a skosh too heavy and grunt and groan then drop them so they make that loud clank. It’s dramatic to do so many squats that you don’t know if you’ll be able to drive a stick shift. It’s dramatic to pull a muscle, then tell everyone you did it at the gym – it was that 37th squat, you’ll tell them. Eveyone’s impressed.  Gestalt complete.

Until I can think of a way to abandon the need for some sort of drama in my life, this feels like the healthiest  option.  Or I could just make a couple phone calls to the family.

21 Day Challenge – Day 7 – Skulduggery Afoot

Leave a comment

Diary Book

One week in and here’s what I’ve learned:

  1. I am still really good at tricking myself into and out of what is good for me. Like professional grade status.
  2. I’m getting smarter and quicker at catching the skullduggery and doing the right thing more often than not.
  3. I have not lost one ounce but I have gained a ton of energy. Before committing to the “work-out” I was fuzzy, forgetful, tired, whiney, angry and frustrated. Now I’m just occasionally and strategically forgetful.
  4. I don’t like being pushed. And apparently I “bargain” with my trainer. Whatever.
  5. And, I actually like raising my heart rate and sweating.

While all of this seems like good news – and it is – what I am lacking is routine or ritual. I need structure. I fight structure. Do you see the problem? I exhaust myself.

A year or so ago I went through some of my old journals, and there are millions. I was expecting to find witty remarks, deep thoughts and profound insights. You know, the stuff that would comprise the movie they make about me in 100 years after they unearth these tomes of brilliance. What I found between profundities were pages and pages, years and years of planning my day. Get up at 5, 6, 5:45, work out, eat breakfast and on and on.

How depressing. Not so much that I was planning, but that I never really worked the plan.

In almost every case, everything I wanted to accomplish during the day had to be finished by 11 AM, my high point of creativity and energy during the day, so I was progressively getting up earlier and earlier. What did I expect to do with myself after 11? Have lunch with friends, skulk around independent bookstores, chat up shop owners and do gooders, come home cook a gourmet meal and share my day with my husband?

Sounds pretty amazing, actually, perhaps I should revisit those journals.

But I digress.

So now what? Plan again? Start over? Wing it? It’s the act of planning that feels solid to me. I have always been this way. I am the idea person, I’m going to lay it all out and then YOU go implement it.

There appears to be a learning opportunity for me. Can I be the implementer? I know I will fight it. For the past 8 years I have had my own businesses and my time is my own. Schedules just happen organically.

I think if I have a short list of things I plan to accomplish during the day – whenever – I will get them done.

No. That feels like a cop-out. I feel like there is a huge opportunity for me to break through this resistance to what is good for me.

I need the structure. I need to create non-negotiables. I just do these things because they are what I do. I brush my teeth every day, shower, make my bed. Why not pranayama, meditation and an hour of movement? Why not indeed.

There. Now onto the schedule.

You should know that in my head I’m already coming up with reasons why this won’t work.

 

21 Day Challenge – Day 6 – They Mean Well

Leave a comment

Cookie bite

Every day I try to bargain with myself. Maybe Wednesday will be my day off. Maybe Saturday should be my day of rest. I’m moving more now than I have in a while, what’s one cookie? Or five?

But then, why do I want to take a day off from radiant health? That’s what sick days are for and I really don’t ever look forward to being sick. And why would I bargain for something that ultimately will be the gateway for more creative excuses?

I’m learning. I still cheat.

When I get involved in something on the computer, I am typically sucked in, eyes glued to the screen, fingers flying, looking away only to let go of the shapes of letters so I can form original thoughts (hopefully). I enjoy it.

And it’s a very convenient excuse. I need to do this, whatever it is that’s in front of me. And if it isn’t this, I’ll make something up equally weighted with good intention.

There is the good Allison, the higher self version of my carbon based form. Let’s call her Allisun (a friend actually types my name like that and I rather like it). Allisun understands that the planning I go through with a tremendous amount of resolve is actually an intention I set for myself. She also gets that Allisin (the ne’r do well ego operated side of me) is very convincing and sometime “Sun” is powerless against “Sin.” Or let’s say weakened.

While Allisun peeks around the laptop screen gently pushing it closer and closer to the keyboard, crowding my fingers out, Allisin pushes it back open so we can ‘get things done.’

Allisun takes me to the gym, maneuvers me around food courts and cupcake trucks. She turns the music up so I’ll dance while I clean and she encourages me to do all those healthy things I promised myself.

Allisin believes that the ego should reign supreme, she is after all its spokesmodel, and as such she needs to feel a sense of accomplishment, productivity. Not a bad thing, just misdirected at times.

They could so easily work together if they could just learn to communicate.

Today, Allisin tried to convince us that it would be a good day to take a break from this silly health nonsense and eat some chocolate for crying out loud. We should cruise social media and text friends. Maybe we should think about cleaning the house or just play with the dogs.

Meanwhile, Allisun had planned on finally trying Zumba. She did clean a nice portion of the home, succumbed to a few morsels of chocolate and actually got a little work done.

Then it started to rain. Pour. Allisin saw no reason to leave the house in a downpour. Allisun waited it out.

We all went to Zumba. Then we had mashed potatoes for dinner.

Everyone was happy.