“You will learn a lot about yourself if you stretch in the direction of goodness, of bigness, of kindness, of forgiveness, of emotional bravery. Be a warrior for love.”
Slay me, Cheryl Strayed (aka Sugar), just slay me. Just like spring has.
Sister told me the other night, delicately, that she though I may be a bit tender right now–her very PC way of challenging me to consider that I may have overreacted. I don’t disagree with her on that. But I did disagree with her suggesting I was too soft.
I feel like fucking stone, Sis, I said.
Minus the initial scene of the pain, I haven’t cried. I haven’t teared up. I haven’t felt pain. Or sadness.
I feel nothing.
Now I know that means that I am actually actively trying not to feel a whole lot of nothing (Thanks, Brené). My rib cage is making itself a big fucking anti-vulnerability barricade around my heart.
So this week, I continued on, just as I have been, and I honestly figured my post would be about yoga, since I went for the first time in a couple weeks this past Sunday.
It was not fun.
My body was crunchy. Uncoordinated. My balance was even more off than it usually is.
I left my mat feeling deeply unsatisfied and ran smack dab into that Cheryl Strayed quote and promptly flipped both of them the bird.
The thing is that I do actually miss yoga and know I just need to make more time for it. But this post is not about missing yoga; it’s about missing stretching. Not just the physical acts but also the spiritual, emotional and intellectual ones.
Believing in something.
Reaching for bigness.
Demanding more of myself.
This spring has taken a lot out of me professionally. It’s taken a lot from me personally. It’s left it hard to be soft and flexible and, therefore, brave and open.
So this week, as we
I am pausing. Thinking how I might return to the way of the Love Warrior and not just be open to letting pain change me but to finding joy and letting it as well (Thanks, Glennon, for your SuperSoul Session).