Wednesday, February 14, 2007
While snow and freezing temperatures continue to blanket much of the Northeastern corridor, here in Los Angeles at the top of the canyon looking out to the sea, fluffy cotton-candy puffs drift across aquamarine sky as birds perched on umbrellas of green herald an early Spring. 61° and sunny, bright yellow freesia, grape hyacinth and purple pansies push up through the earth. Our early-girl peach is even earlier this year, displaying her ebullient mass of delicate pink blossoms to the thrill of the local bees. The vibrancy is palpable today.
I am grateful to be here. I am happy on my path. I am firm in my feet as I retrace my steps, the steps I know so well. I have gone far, yet I am still here.
For every 10 doubts, there is, "Nope, I don't believe that." "Nope, I don't buy into that." "Nope, that doesn't work for me."
At this very moment the clarity is, well, so very clear: we choose. We have chosen all along. Forward, or backward. Up, or down. Steady, or sporadic. Doubtful, or on purpose.
Sideways is good too. Resting is good. So is moving. So are detours, delays, dismissals. It is all good. It is inconsequential, life's events. Both deeply significant, and not of consequence.
What is essential, is the approach. The way with which we approach life. In the present. Being present. It's where I go, with where I am, that is interesting.
I can always change my mind. I can always change directions. I can always choose Love. Strength. Focus. Movement over stagnation. Courage over doubt. Tenacity over gravity. Optimism over pessimism. I can choose to believe in myself or not.
With that in mind, I keep going. On task. On purpose. Bursting with life and unlimited possibilities.
With each step I command myself onward, yet I am already going. Forward. This is not a race. This is MY life. This is MY time. These are MY legs striving forward, taking it all in, assessing and deciding my future, my fate. I am opening to my destiny. I am already on its path. I can't not be.
Perhaps, as it has been suggested to me, I AM afraid of convention. Of getting stuck. Of sameness. Of being labeled and boxed in. Of feeling contained, confined, captured.
I'm more like the wind -- the great gatherer, force of nature, bringing together necessary elements, then moving on. From ferocious and devastatingly powerful to warm and gentle; the whole range. But rarely still.
Noticeable, yet unseen. Undefined. Perhaps undefinable.
As frustrating as it may be, I like it that way.