Shoulder and back strength.
Familiarity with the sensation of being upside down.
A stack of read books and filled journals.
The perfect planner.
Layers and layers of paint on canvases.
A circle of women.
A community event.
An emergency fund.
A pile of compost.
A daily meditation practice.
Travel plans for Scotland.
On a list of things to build.
That is where my mind has been this week.
So often in the past seven days, whether in a yoga class or at a meeting, there was a moment when I became acutely aware of the chance I had to grow. To take one more breath in a posture. To use language to frame something just a little bit differently.
To fall out of crow pose…again and again…barely moving the needle on progress.
In many ways, I think that is how I saw 2016–falling off balance again and again, barely moving the needle on progress. To be quite honest, based on how I rang in the new year (i.e., in bed with a severe sinus infection), I don’t think much will change in 2017: I think I will spend most days falling out of that pose, barely moving the needle on progress.
The thing that will change is what those last six words mean to me.
Barely moving the needle is on progress.
Barely moving the need is how we have to build sometimes, and, as a dear friend put it years ago, in words that have not left me since:
And I like these things because they cost me something to invest in. If I pay the price, then it is worth something to me. It’s worth is only equal to what I am willing to pay for it.
There are some things in this life that will take time to develop, things that are worth keeping sacred for the right moment. Things that will be more lovely if I pay the price of waiting and watching and sowing into it, even when I am uncomfortable and lonely and hopeful all at once.
Because anything worth everything will always cost us something.
Anything worth everything…that’s something I want to build.