I am so totally willing to let go.
I went for a run this evening. I usually go very early in the cool mornings, before my little birds are up and before their daddy rides off to work. A week ago, however, I ran my very first race-a 5K, in which I surprised myself by running three nine minute miles. The fastest I'd ever put paws to pavement.
But this was birthday week, so I skipped Monday, ran on Wednesday and felt completely off my footing. I blew off Friday and Saturday...the long and short of being that I was beginning to spin a story about how undisciplined I'd been-how uncaring I'd been to a part of my life that has fed my soulfeet for months now. And this is the way I was treating it? Ice cream and scotch and pizza and scotch and wine tasting and a donut and a coke?
So today I ran and I ran, pounding the earth and burning up the negative energy, releasing cares and self-judgments with each sweaty mile. Geese flew overhead, dragonflies mated on the water lilies, squirrels lounged, lizards skittered past, herons swooped, turkey vultures soared. I imagined that none of them were spinning such a story about how lackadaisical they'd been with their flying, mating, lounging...skittering.
As I rounded the last bend, something struck me. A concept likely scavenged up from the depths of me where a ratty Eckart Tolle-like book lies open to a marked up, dog-eared page... The idea was this:
It isn't what I do or what happens to me that matters. It is what I think about it that delivers the punch.
So I stopped thinking.
And ran.
