Now that we’ve surpassed the five-month mark into our new adventure on the mountain (see After the Leap), due to a three-week setback with COVID early on—as well as multiple challenges that have taken precedence—it often seems we have little to show for our efforts. Especially…[read more]
Write every day. Writing is a muscle that gets stronger with use. ~ Abbi Glines
It’s a no brainer, isn’t it? That unworked muscles lose their strength. I’ve witnessed this truth in its extreme: following my husband’s car accident and during the course of his two-month hospital stay, his muscles begin to atrophy from lack of use. Over time, however, through daily PT sessions, he regained a lot of strength. Some days, I arrived at the hospital to find my husband in his wheelchair—pushed front-first against the side of the bed—and his body slumped onto the mattress to rest between sessions. It’s not easy to get stronger. It requires determination and perseverance to overcome in spite of obstacles. Although my struggles with writing are a poor comparison, I know that even if the writing I do today is bad, it’s better than anything I don’t write. Progress only happens with consistent work. Even if that means resting in between.
On Wednesday I posted an image on Facebook: a cup filled with coffee, the words Happy Hump Day scrawled on its surface and hearts drifting upward from its steam, and added my own message: You can. End of story. What thrills you? You can. What obstacle do you face? You can. What dream persists? You can. I read an article about how society spends more time seeking entertainment and distraction than focusing on learning and creating. And that when we forego the latter, we take a step backward rather than grow into the extraordinary person we’re meant to be. Much of what I read intrigued me: “You are defined by what you’re willing to struggle for.” I believe that. “Most people aren’t willing to really struggle for anything.” I don’t believe that. It might be a struggle simply to rise each day to face your reality. Or perhaps you’re 100 percent satisfied living an ordinary life. Just remember: You can. End of story.
What do you struggle for?
Photo courtesy of Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.
As I often do while hiking, I pray. I meditate. I search my soul and ask what it longs for most. I plot my goals or a story outline. While trekking through the desert this weekend, it’s as if life made a little more sense to me on and off the trail with these truths: 1) Danger is always possible: prepare for the unexpected and proceed with caution. 2) To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under the sun. 3) Remember where you came from: embrace your roots. 4) Keep your eyes open for love: it can show up in unlikely places. 5) Obstacles [aka mountains] are inevitable: it’s our choice whether to scale or avoid them. 6) If it’s meant to be, new growth finds a way. 7) When we think we’ve made it unscathed, another obstacle looms in our path: if it’s the same one, quit going around it and tackle it head on.
If I plan to do what I’m doing for a long time (see What’s ‘in’ this season…), then I must quit talking about modifying my lifestyle and do it. If I hope to hike, work out, practice yoga and maintain a youthful spirit, these changes need to stick rather than serve as sporadic patches until the seams unravel. My mortality hit home the other night while I watched an eye-opening documentary about sugar, and its adverse effects on our bodies and minds, and realized my addiction to the sweet stuff will either set me up for an early grave or problems I’ve already begun to experience in small doses. I have a plan, however: to become healthier and stronger during the next 17 months, and to reverse any negative effects of poor lifestyle choices. If I am willing to sacrifice my time and effort for others, then I should believe in myself enough to make sacrifices for a greater me.
Joy is the will which labors, which overcomes obstacles, which knows triumph. ~ William Butler Yeats
When my daughter was little, we enjoyed a particularly joy-filled day. I emailed her dad something along the lines of wishing I could bottle the day, so that on the hard ones, I could pop the cork and remember our good times. Over the years, on those not so great days, her dad made it a habit to forward me that same email and I’d reflect on our special day. Although I haven’t seen the email for many years now, there are still times in my life I wish I could bottle, events I could replay — those instances where all is fleetingly right with the world. Especially on days when I feel like I’m spinning my wheels in limbo or feeling the sting of rejection. On days like that I would uncork the bottle and allow the sweet memories to bathe me in their heady tonic, reminding me of my worth. Of course, it doesn’t work like that. The highs are highs and the lows are lows. But as Yeats suggests, when I overcome the obstacles, my joy will be waiting.