We live in a culture that spoon feeds us contradictions right from the beginning.

On the one side, we are told to never settle or accept less than what will make us truly fulfilled and happy. The mere hint of settling in life is an abomination against our potential and our dreams that burn like little sparks of amazeballs inside of us. We were meant for more than to just go to work and die. You can be anything that you want to be when you grow up. The only limits are the ones that you place on yourself. Never give up. Keep striving and reaching for the stars. Mediocrity and complacency are the slow death of our souls’ brilliance.  I could go on, but you all know the speech.

Flip over to the other camp and you have the face slap that hits us all at one time or another. All of a sudden, the lessons learned and internalized from years of inspirational posters with perfectly graphic enhanced words of wisdom are shot down. We are told to get our heads out of the sand. To be realistic and be grateful for what you have.  That the reason you are unhappy is because you are never satisfied – what is wrong with you? You’re greedy. You would be happier if you would just stop searching and instead, appreciate what you do have. Stop all that wanting and seeking for more, different, better, simpler… insert your preference here. Then, at some point, we may even get the cherry on top tossed at us – Everyone is unhappy and dissatisfied, what makes you think you should be any different? Just think about everyone out there who has it worse than you.

So where does that leave us? Sure, we have the drive or the lack of it inside of ourselves. But we also have everything around us that leaves us like the proverbial squirrel in the road. Not sure what to do or in which direction to go. Like that ill-fated tree rat, we stall and do nothing, hunkering down and waiting for who knows what; and we all know how that story ends. The often remarked “no one gets out alive” adage assures us that death will eventually come along and finish our story for us, the way IT wants.

We can sit and watch that hapless squirrel l and determine, from our safe vantage point that offers a different perspective,  that both directions have potentially good or bad outcomes but staying there has an almost certain outcome of bad.

We have people in our lives that fan the flames of our desires with us, often times for us. These are the people who see your flames flickering out and pull out the moss and twigs and lichen (or dryer lint and balled up tissues – we all roll the way we roll) and they nurse the flames back to life with us.  If you have them, those people in your corner are indeed something to be grateful for. Our society has even developed to the point where you can hire people to be there for you and stoke your fires. People who can help keep you from sliding into the pool of complacency and stagnation. What a time to live in.

To return to the dilemma of complacency though; how do you know which side of the edge you are sitting on? Do you need to kick yourself in the pants – or have someone else do it for you – to get yourself out of the Swamp of Sadness that surrounds you because you feel like there has to be more out there? (bonus points if a vision on Artax and Atreyu just flashed in your mind there)? Or are you mature and informed about your life, options and potential enough to simply be making an intelligent decision to be okay with where you are and to understand the difference between a dream and a fantasy for your goals in life?

For each of us, it could go both ways at any given time. Eventually, like the squirrel, you will run out of time to decide though and there are no do-overs. Just ask pancake road squirrel if you doubt that. Sorry to say that there isn’t an easy answer or one that can apply to everyone. Just don’t be complacent about questioning complacency in your life. That’s definitely not something to be complacent about.

I am much more of a Winter Solstice person than I am a New Years Eve person when it comes to what feels like it clicks for me. I love New Years Eve for what it is; like Christmas, a chance to celebrate and enjoy a slower work schedule for a few days and time to spend with people I enjoy hanging out with. The concept of resolutions that simply get recycled every year on December 31st seems incomplete somehow.

 

Oh but the Winter Solstice is where it’s at for me. A time of renewal and rebirth, the turning of the season, the return of the sun. A time of clarity and setting intentions to move into the next cycle of seasons. I don’t mean it’s time for a list of promises to myself or others about what I want to accomplish in the next 12 months, but rather a time to reflect on what my values and visions are and how my life, lived so far, matches up with those. A time to check in with my values and visions and see if or how they have evolved.

 

Life is fluid, it evolves and with it, so does our path from time to time. Taking a look at what is important to me and whether my actions show that or not is integral to being well – mentally, emotionally and physically. I’ve been shown this past year – in a huge and nasty way – that when you neglect your Self and your course, it hurts. It’s a lesson that I’m seeing was needed. Got it, universe, thanks (could there not have been an easier way to show me the same things ?!)

Last year,  I did what I often do. I wrote myself a letter, dated to be opened at the next Winter Solstice. It wasn’t a list of “by this time next year….” it was a look at what was important to me – then – and what direction I intended to take to bring me closer to my dreams and visions of life for me. It was vague and that is what I aim for. Oddly enough, for all of my perfectionist, itemized, list-making tendencies that I possess, setting intentions has always been about the big picture rather than the micro view of details.

 

Now, a cycle of the seasons has come and gone and I read that letter and see much that is true. What makes me tick is still there and still waiting patiently for my actions to match my internal “really this is a priority” sense. What I hope to achieve is still on the mark – all good there. Yet, when I take an honest and raw look, I have to say that this past year has been drifting rather than paddling in my life. Granted the last 6 months have been holding on for dear life rather than being swept away, but still….

 

My last post hit the proverbial nail on the head and as I sat down to dive into actually naming what I want and what dreams I have – if nothing was impossible, what would you want to do? – it quickly became clear that two lists were evolving for me.

 

One was definitely a list that slapped me hard with a feeling of why in the world I wasn’t making these things happen??? They are absolutely achievable! Things like: be less afraid; be more self-confident; paddle boarding, taking a cooking class, trying my hand at pottery, publishing a piece of writing, finishing that novel. These things were not “I want to visit Mars” type of dreams, they are all attainable. I just need to get off my ass and make them happen. Point taken, universe.

 

The other list was no less attainable, technically… but the visions on that list are not the “bang that off with a bit of effort” type of items. Things like: grow old with friends who are family to me in my life; buy a piece of land and build on while I live in a trailer (preferable with a bunch of those Framily people 🙂 ) ; own a dog; hike the West Coast Trail; travel to Greece; . These are things that require some foundation time and planning to bring to fruition. That list shows me the big picture of what is important to me. Freedom, adventure, connection, love.

 

Resolutions? Nope.

Intentions to live so that I am moving in the direction that I want and need to be? Absofuckinglutely.

 

to be continued….

 

A glimpse into one of the two lucid dreams that visit me often..

I am standing on a street in what appears to be a seaside fishing village. I look around me and see the narrow streets leading away from the house that I am in front of. Glancing over my shoulder, I see a house that is familiar but I can’t quite place it in my mind. It is different from the other houses that line this street. They are all brightly coloured and similar to each other in shape and size but this house behind me is larger and a more muted colour than the other houses. It feels older somehow.

The ocean is just beyond the row of houses in front of my view and I start to walk across the street towards the sound of the waves crashing. There are no cars, no people, no sounds other than the ocean. I cross the street in a lazy line, taking my time walking down the road as I make my way over to the other sidewalk. I am in no hurry it feels like and I’m not sure where I’m going.

As I reach the other sidewalk and turn left at the corner, the street takes a strong angle downhill and I notice that the village is built around the cliffs above a harsh shoreline. The cloud-filled sky is darkening quickly and the wind chases the birds as they abandon the shore trees in the storm that I can feel is coming. A voice in my head is warning me that I have to hurry and I see, far below me, an entrance to a cave in the rocks where the street ends and the rocky beach begins.

All at once, I know exactly what I have to do. I start to run, already mapping out in my mind how I will collect the people I need to save from the cave first and where we need to go from there. My lungs are starting to burn from the cold air and the sudden burst of running. With the steep angle of the street I am barely in control of my legs, I am going so fast that gravity is taking over and I am careening down the middle of the street towards the beach. I can faintly hear other voices as I run. They are coming from the houses, I’m certain, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. I’m coming back, I whisper to the voices, my breath panting the words.

I see the water on the shore pulling away. The sound of the waves has gone and there is a silence so intense that my ears are ringing. As I reach the edge of the rocks and sand I can’t see the water anymore, it has gone out so far. I turn to my left and see the opening in the rocks. It’s huge, higher than a house, and dark, just enough light for me to see the staircase that I need to climb to reach the house inside that I know is there. I run up the stairs, hearing behind me a rumble starting, far away. I know I have to move as fast as I can. The wooden staircase is old and falling apart. peeling paint where there is still any shows the havoc that the wind and salt from the ocean has wrought on it. Some steps are barely there and my hands are bleeding from the slivers that I get from running my hands along the rails as I run, taking the steps two at a time. The entire staircase creaks and sways as I fly up it. It is bolted by metal hooks into the rocks and they are holding it in place even as the wood rots. I reach the door at the top of the final flight and burst into the room inside. The house is built into the cave walls, hidden inside the rock. A house identical to any on the street above us but sheltered and isolated here. I know exactly what and who is there and my eyes sweep the soft golden light of the lamps as the heat of the fireplace blasts my freezing face as I start yelling.

I reach for the little boy that runs to me and I hold him tight in my arms as I stand up. He is small enough that I carry him easily and I shout for the other boy to follow me as  turn to go back down the stairs. The other boy is older, almost a man, and he follows me without asking or speaking. I hold onto the small boy in my arms as I run down the stairs, glancing over my shoulder to make sure the other is staying close. The door is left ajar behind us and I can see the light it is casting out into the cave as I turn to keep my eyes on the staircase in front of me. The rumble from where the ocean should be, but isn’t still, is louder now and growing with every step it feels like. The stairs are shaking but not just from us running. The ground is starting to heave and small rocks are chipping from the walls of the cave, falling past us and striking the sandy bottom of the cave. Under the noises that threaten, I can hear the soft whispers of the little boy against me. He whispers words that I can’t understand but the tone is soft and soothing and he is almost singing the words. His breath is warm against my chest and neck and his arms around me are strong, stronger than their size implies. I want nothing more than to cry at how beautiful he feels in my against me and I feel such a strong sense that this feeling has been absent for too long. I keep running.

We are out of the cave now and running up the steep hill lined with houses. The rumble is now deafening and I know the water returning will crush us if we don’t make it to higher ground. We have more houses to go to first though. More people to collect. The older boy is running alongside of me. There is a tethered feeling between us even though we don;t touch. we have not spoken but we don’t need to. Every now and then we look at each other and nods are exchanged, and we know. We turn sharply to the left, heading down a street filled with small shacks. The one we are running for is halfway down the block and we are there in seconds it feels like. The boy hits the door hard and it opens just as another young man comes out to join us. He is older than the other but not by much and he is ready. He has a backpack on his shoulders and as he comes out he reaches his arms to me and the small boy at my chest releases his grip on me and he is suddenly in the arms of the other boy. His brother. They are all brothers. The circle of connect between them is so strong that it’s unmistakable. The voice in my heads screams at me to run, to keep going, that there is one more and that we are running out of time. With the oldest boy now carrying his small brother, we run faster. Together. Back out onto the small street and turning onto the main road at the end of the block. My ears are ringing again but now it is from the roaring of the water. It’s here and it’s coming up the hill of the street towards us. We only have to make it across the street though and into one more house and then we can run as hard as we can uphill and we can still make it. We all sprint to the house across from where we are. Spray from the waves crashing up the hill is hitting my face, stinging my eyes and mixing with the tears that are running down my cheeks. I am screaming into the wind, the noise from the water so loud that it is silent. The door of the house opens and the young man stands in the doorway, facing us as we race to gather him to us. He just stands there though and shakes his head and looks past us.

I chance a look behind me and the wave is there. The feeling that rushes over me as the water grabs me and the boys and slams us into the house is crushing. We are a jumble of bodies tossed in the wreckage of the house and the swirling, freezing, suffocating water. I reach for them and my hands and arms find them as blackness takes my vision.

————

I am standing on a street in what appears to be a seaside fishing village. I look around me and see the narrow streets leading away from the house that I am in front of. Glancing over my shoulder, I see a house that is familiar but I can’t quite place it in my mind.

I start to run. I know where I have to go and I know that I am already running out of time. As I run, my mind is already planning how I will gather them all differently this time. Better. Faster. This time, we’ll make it…..

————————

*We never do. The dream / nightmare loops numerous times when I have it and I never wake between “takes”. Each time, the urgency and frantic panic increase as I struggle to find some way to escape and save everyone that I need to. I try different routes and different places to hide from the waves but in the end, the water always consumes us and it goes black. There is always an awareness that I am in control of making the alterations to my choices – the goal to have a different outcome. Yet there never is a different outcome. It ends the same, no matter what choices are made.

A year of saying yes starts today.

It was 25 years ago today that my life changed forever (happy birthday today to my oldest!) and it’s as good a day as any for me to start another step on my path. Seems kind of fitting somehow actually.

A concept that was introduced to me by my partner and something that has taken hold in my musings.

To say yes instead of no or maybe. Not something as sweeping as saying yes to everything that comes my way; I’m wanting a shake up in how I live but I’m not completely off my rocker, thank you very much.

Essentially how I see it is simple. To make a conscious decision to not stay stuck in patterns of behaviour that have become unhealthy and limiting to myself. The only way to change is to change. It really is that simple.

It’s not saying yes to every option I am presented with or with every opportunity that comes my way. What my year of yes will be is taking the chances that I would normally knee jerk into a “no”. It’s not letting my fears or reservations make my decisions for me like I have been. It’s being conscious of choosing to nudge myself outside of the comfortable areas that I have come to hibernate so well within these past few years. It’s not automatically shutting down an opportunity that excites me because I’m nervous or uncertain. It’s feeling all that and deciding to do it anyways. It’s trying something when I’m not sure if I’ll succeed or not. It’s seeing risks and taking them.

It’s more than saying yes to invitations, it’s also saying yes to what I ask of myself. It’s not limiting myself and my growth anymore due to fears or insecurities. It’s believing in myself again and my potential and letting myself rise to the bar that has no set height except for where I set it…. and I’m tired of keeping it set as low as I have. It’s telling myself to shut up when I say I can’t or shouldn’t. It’s saying yes, you can and you should, and you will.
Is it scary? Yes. Look, I said it… that wasn’t too bad 🙂

I need

to say yes, instead of no, or another time, or maybe

to play, with laughter and giddiness and passion

to dance, to sway and bump and grind or stomp. dance.

to hurt. to feel the rawness and scream into it and dare it to try to hurt me even more.

to conquer and feel my own power.

to fly and soar and feel the freedom that I have.

to cry. and scream and rage and claw my way out.

to laugh. until it hurts. until my sides burn with stitches from it all and until I have tears in my eyes

to run. as fast and as hard as I can. without holding myself back or pacing myself

to feel. all of it. everything. even the feelings that I can’t name.

to not be afraid

to be afraid and do it all anyways

to love and not give a fuck if I’m risking being hurt

to reach and connect and touch people. because it terrifies me.

to remember my love for that. to feel that again.

to allow myself to be touched and seen. because it terrifies me.

to bleed. literally and figuratively. to feel that essence.

to consume

to be consumed

to know myself

to not hide from myself

to allow my shell to be pierced. to be exposed.

to love

to say yes to all of this.

to own all of this

to share and not give a fuck who thinks what

 

most of all

I need to admit that I need.

I think we hit a point in life where we stop dreaming. We give up the sitting and wondering and fantasizing of “what if” and “maybe someday” or even the “some day I will…”. We get caught up with practical and realistic and being reasonable of what we should, and can, expect out of life.

When I was 16 I sat in my living room with a friend and an atlas open on the floor and we marked out the route we would take after graduation. The countries we wanted to see and travel and all the places that we would visit. For weeks we would plan and discuss and dream. There were times that I thought it might not happen but I believed it would. Really believed it. Then life curved off the path of that choosing. A year and a half later I was getting married and a year and half after that I was having my first son and that atlas was firmly tucked away in my bookshelf.

The next 20 years saw a lot of changes and a lot of moves and that atlas always got packed up and moved along with me though. Everytime I took it off the shelf to pack it, I would open it up and trace the marker lines on the maps and get a little more sad that I wasn’t going to get to see those places and experience what I wanted to. What was happening was a slow and very steady creeping of surrendering. Giving up. Letting the little doubt grow and take hold until even looking at the cover of that atlas made me melancholy about what wasn’t going to be.

Life was busy and full and I loved it. Raising my kids and working and volunteering kept me so busy that dreams took a seat so far removed from “real life” that they ceased to exist anymore for me.

Then came a point that I started to realize that without those dreams, life was becoming heavy and dark in some way – especially at a time that it should have been lighter. The boys were getting older and a marriage that wasn’t right was over and it was time to sit and take a hard look at what I wanted and what was needed. So the small dreams started. Maybe a weekend trip with my boys. Someplace realistic still but a dream all the same. So a plan was made and we did it. It felt good to see that maybe there was that elusive thing still there – hope – hope that a dream can come to fruition.

Then life took a sidestep again. This time, a big enough slam to knock me off the track completely.

A decision to rebuild life and move forward in a new direction and in a new city brought me to packing again. This time, I picked up that atlas – the book with the dreams I had had for 25 years – dreams that no matter how unattainable they felt, always sat there deep inside of me, a small sliver of “maybe some day” always there. I picked up that atlas and there was no sliver of “maybe some day” left. It was just gone. Defeated and gone. After packing that atlas around for almost 25 years, I threw it out.

The last three and a half years have seen me have days of starting to dream again, starting to think of “maybe some day” – but it has always been so short lived as to be almost not there. Those moments have been met with such grief and mourning of the loss of belief and hope that anything could come to pass that it was too hurtful to even think of dreaming.

Moments here and there of plan making or looking forward always hit hard inside my head of a practical response of why bother dreaming when it isn’t going to happen anyways. Like the game of what would you do if you won a million dollars, I was at the point of who cares – it’s pointless conjecture and the reality is what you have and where you are is it. So stop dreaming. Friends would make small talk and we would sit and say “where would you go if you could go anywhere?” and my internal response was always why bother answering – it won’t happen and it’ just torture to dream when it won’t happen anyways. Simple.

The last few months though something has started to shift. Spending time with a special someone who is helping me remember what it’s like to dream and fantasize and think “what if”. Even if it is just silly and will never come to pass most likely – it’s still fun and it still makes me smile – if I let it. This weekend, an hour spent together, curled up dreaming and thinking and letting imaginations and wishes run wild for a bit, that feeling so long forgotten, and so good to feel again. So good to dream again. And who knows, maybe someday…it’s been too long since I’ve thought that and let myself believe it. Feels good.  

We spend a lot of time and energy and money on our bodies. In one way or another we “feed” our bodies so much.

Resources allocated to make it slimmer, bigger, stronger, faster, more flexible…better. Now don’t get me wrong, that’s all important. Our bodies are, after all, the vessels that we live our lives in and through. Having a healthy and capable body means we can do more, and enjoy doing what we do with less pains and aches and, hopefully, for as many years as we can squeeze out of this matter that makes up what carries us around. But, there’s always a “but”, if we look at that phrase that our bodies are just vessels, then that leaves the issue of what’s inside the vessel? Isn’t that what’s being protected and encased and isn’t what’s IN the vessel, very simply, MORE than what’s carrying it? Shouldn’t we be putting just as much, maybe even more resources to nourishing that?

I got to thinking about this personally lately as I’ve been musing decisions to make and paths to follow coming up. The truth struck me that some of the choices I keep putting off relate directly to the care and feeding of Me. Not my body, but Me. The Me that resides inside the vessel. Paths and actions that will nourish and grow and embrace the journey of Me are being sat on the shelf and given a pat on the proverbial head and told to be patient… while I put my resources to the gym, running, biking, trying to eat healthier, moisturizing…sigh. What gets done for the inside?

I thoroughly enjoy all of these things – or I wouldn’t do them. I love running and biking in the early morning. It does make me feel good on the inside as well as physically. But where is my Yoga practice that I had for years? The practice that filled my being with a feeling of unity between the inner and the outer… a practice that brought me a sense of being connected and a sense of knowing, deeply knowing, Me. It’s sitting on that shelf.
Sitting there along with time for reading books that make my mind tingle with new information and points of view… books that challenge and inspire and make me cry and laugh and look at the clock and see that I’ve lost 3 hours and my tea has gone cold. Reading for pleasure and for the pleasure of learning. Something else for Me that’s been sat back there.
My lust for travel, for exploring and seeing and experiencing. A drive to feed the hunger that sits and yearns to drink in someplace else…filling Me with sights and sounds and feels that expand who I am and what makes Me, Me.

Beyond goals and dreams, deeper than that. The fundamental neglect of cultivating growth. A sometimes, but not always, subtle ignoring of what is needed to tend to Me. Needs that just simply aren’t valued. That’s the base of it all.

It’s easier to take care of what we see and what can have “success” more easily measured. What we fail to recognize though is that eventually, the neglect and ignorance of feeding the spirit will become just as visible. What’s inside of this vessel will either shine brighter or grow dimmer as the years meander along. Which of those happens is up to how it’s tended to.

As I contemplate where to put my resources of time, energy and money this coming year, it’s clear to me now the changes that need to be made.
a soft blow on the embers and a smile to see a flame

Day one, blank page

It’s a start of a new year and with that comes all of the resolutions and goal making. I’ve always hated resolutions. There’s nothing quite like making the same ones year after to year to make you feel great about yourself and your accomplishments, is there?

Yet, I have to admit that I’m a sucker for the build up and the sense of renewal and the chance for a fresh start and the inspiration that comes along with it all. Add to that the fact that I am an unapologetic lover of lists and charts and spreadsheets… I have the perfect storm for New Years goal setting…sigh. So, in the interest of feeding that need *and* feeling like I’m not just sitting down to make another list of things that I’m “absolutelygoingtodobutwillonlykeepupforatbesttwoweeks”; here is my anti-list of resolutions.

Things that I won’t do in 2015

I will stop reinforcing beliefs of myself that are wrong. plain and simple. using the words that give more power to internal beliefs that need to stop, needs to stop. “I can’t” are two words that carry a lot of weight and I have let them creep into my internal vocabulary far too often.
I will stop putting my desires on the back burner. the years tick by and with every one that does, the time left to achieve what I want to grows shorter. It’s time to remember to put what I want to do back on my priority list.
I will stop forgetting that I am the crafter of my life. I very often tend to let it slip that every choice I make is a choice. If I am tired of something or fed up, I need to remember that I’m the one I take my problems to. And I’m the one to solve them.
I will stop accepting “good enough”. I deserve outstanding and amazing and wonderful in ALL aspects of my life. I only have this one (so far as I know), it’s time to stop accepting less than spectacular.
I will stop doing things that make me feel less than I know I am. I am my own worst saboteur. Time to stop that.

I have a list of the usual things that I want to achieve, and those are important as well, but not as much as these are to me.

Interestingly enough, NOT doing just a few things, will make my ability to DO the things I want to, that much more achievable. Trying to tick off the resolution list of things that I want to achieve won’t be possible if I keep doing these behaviours. Plain and simple. Somethings have to be not done to clear space to get other things done.

Blank page not so blank. Intentions set and feet are on the ground running.

A song today that brought back so many memories. It’s amazing how a few seconds of a song can take you away to another time so fully and swiftly.

A song that was playing during a wild and fun sexual romp with my boyfriend at the time. Almost 5 years ago and with just a few seconds of that song, I was right back there. All of the feelings and emotions and images flooding my mind made me smile. Then they made me sad. In a quick turnaround, I am left with a sadness, not over the loss of that relationship or missing that person , but a sadness over the difference in ME now.

That was a time when I was finally living my truths. Life had taken yet another massive turn for me and I was separated and raising my boys as a single parent again. I had just sat the boys down and had the talk with them about how things were changing. I was sick of working too much and not having enough smiles and fun in our lives. It was time to not only lighten the schedules, but to make joy a priority. Part of that, for me, was living a healthy expression of my sexuality and relationship choices.

I was finally openly (to myself, others would come later) bisexual and happily open with my sexuality and how I explored that. That meant being openly poly in my relationship choices. The people I was involved with were all aware that there were “others” in my life that I shared time and connections with. For the first time in a very long time, I was happy and comfortable with my Self and how I was living my life.

That song this morning… boom… right back there. And like a jolt, it magnified for me how far grieving and living with depression has taken me from my truth, my freedom, my joys.

I miss the lightness of being. The ease of knowing that even though things were sometimes hard, I was happy with my choices. I miss the ability to connect and enjoy experiences with people. That’s been lost for too long.

I think back to the song playing, 5 years ago, and I close my eyes and make a promise to my Self that I’ll find that feeling again.

Change is a funny thing. Not funny “ha ha” but funny odd.

There are a couple of ways to look at it.

Sometimes, we are faced with change that’s outside of our control. We have to change but we don’t want to. This is a tough one and the one that we tend to feel the most.
This is the external push that sends us reeling, or fumbling most likely, in a new altered direction from the one we had been travelling.
A simple thing like a flat tire can be enough to alter a days plans or something as massive as a burnt out home can force an entire life shift. Losing a loved one, a job or finding out an unexpected baby is on the way – all can fundamentally change your life. And not of your choosing.
We have to react, there’s no choice. We have to learn to accept because there isn’t any other option but to do so.
We have choice still with HOW we react and whether that acceptance comes fast or slow or easy or hard…but the simple fact is, we have no choice in what has happened to bring us to change.

Then there’s another change. A change that is possible when we don’t HAVE TO, but we WANT to. This one is where so many sit for so long… and never do anything. Because nothing forces our hand. We may want to change jobs or careers, we may want to end a relationship or add a new one into our lives. Yet we don’t. We dawdle and we hum and haw and keep going… every now and then fired up to change but we never really enact that change that we WANT.
This is almost a worse feeling that being forced to change. This type of change may be hard and it may very well shake things up just as much as a forced change but when it’s a personal action that needs to set the ball rolling… that’s where it catches and stops; before it even gets started usually.
It’s always easier to stay where you are and in what you have rather than making the change. No matter how much you want and how much you desire “different”, it’s hard.

Sometimes we set the ball rolling in a passive way, hoping that then “something” will take over and make us change. We’ve all seen it… maybe even done it. We start behaviours in a relationship that we know, deep down, that will trigger the other person to end it…and voila! Now you HAVE TO move on…and it’s no longer a choice. Take away the choice and you take away the personal responsibility for the decision…and that’s where we get strung up.
What if we make the wrong choice? What if we pursue that dream and it falls through? Or we realize that it wasn’t what it was all cracked up to be in our heads? Hmm, then what? Then we have to be responsible for where we are… so much easier is we can say it wasn’t our fault, isn’t it?
If all we’re doing is reacting then we’re always a step removed from being the person who is responsible for where you are. It’s always nice to be able to not have the finger pointing back at yourself when deciding who is making you unhappy or malcontent.

I hear it all the time, we all do. People who talk about wanting to change, to have a different direction, to BE different…and they follow it up with so many reasons – quite simply, excuses – about why they *can’t*.

So they sit and wait for life to throw something at them that they can’t ignore and that they must react to. And if it doesn’t come, they sit. Stagnant and not where they want to be…but not doing anything to change it.

Sad. So much more sadness in that than there is in anything that can happen to us.