Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself-
What are we seeking when we engage in self-reflection along our path to discovering our true authentic self? I asked myself this question during a recent cycling event, one where I had quite a bit of time to think about “things” in life.
Stumbling upon my path to discovering my authentic self has been riddled by a myriad of close calls, disappointments, pain and yes: Suffering. Years of engaging in destructive behavior seemingly crushed me as a person and still haunt me, even as I proof read this post.
Everywhere I sought help and refuge, I was continually told the way to discover “who we really are” is to simply scrape away all the dreck that has been heaped upon ourselves over the years. Sounds easy enough right?!? If life were only as easy as reading a $5.99 self-help e-book or a top 10 list to discover your true self blog post. The more self-help advice and guidance I marinated in, the more I began to notice how self involved I was becoming. I gradually became concerned only with what affected me or only with that which is useful to, or focused primarily on myself. I started to make every day life “things” that were not about me, about me, and I became blind to world unfolding around me … The more I looked inward, the more I tuned out. I stopped living life.
Each one of us has a self that is beautiful, flawed and unique. Each one of us are blessed with a complicated set of life experiences that no one else has. Our lives are an accumulation of experiences – both good, bad and the ugly. We are amazing – dynamic creatures, and we are continually a work in progress!
These experiences, however, are the very “things” that the searching to reveal our true authentic in a book or whatever, toss to the side as unimportant or distracting. My path to an authentic self, starts with acknowledging my woeful self-deception, that I am my own worst enemy and bringing my Son along to a few cyclocross races last season helped to shed light on what matters the most to me in life (more on this next week).
I hope each of you reading today have an amazing weekend, take care and be well!
Music always sounds better on Friday-
Tomorrow I ask you to support the women that dare to ride! The inaugural Global Solidarity Ride takes place tomorrow and I simply cannot express how important this ride is to me. Shannon Galpin of Mountain2Mountain is doing amazing work bringing the simple joy of spinning along on a bicycle to the women of Afghanistan.
Before the weekend begins, I personally would like to – Thank You– for your continued support of
my your little blog-o-thing! Be well this weekend and please take care!
*Please join me this coming Sunday in Omaha for the annual Tour de Garden Omaha! I’ll even pick up the first coffee or tea for you – My treat!*
I sat on the lawn watching the half-hearted moon rise,
The gnats orbiting the peach pit that I spat out
When the sweetness was gone. I was twenty,
Wet behind the ears from my car wash job,
And suddenly rising to my feet when I saw in early evening
A cloud roll over a section of stars.
It was boiling, a cloud
Churning in one place and washing those three or four stars.
Excited, I lay back down,
My stomach a valley, my arms twined with new rope,
My hair a youthful black. I called my mother and stepfather,
And said something amazing was happening up there.
They shaded their eyes from the porch light.
They looked and looked before my mom turned
The garden hose onto a rosebush and my stepfather scolded the cat
To get the hell off the car. The old man grumbled
About missing something on TV,
The old lady made a face
When mud splashed her slippers. How you bother,
She said for the last time, the screen door closing like a sigh.
I turned off the porch light, undid my shoes.
The cloud boiled over those stars until it was burned by their icy fire.
The night was now clear. The wind brought me a scent
Of a place where I would go alone,
Then find others, all barefoot.
In time, each of us would boil clouds
And strike our childhood houses
The wind billowing out the seat of my britches,
My feet crackling splinters of glass and dried putty,
The half-grown chrysanthemums staring up like accusers,
Up through the streaked glass, flashing with sunlight,
A few white clouds all rushing eastward,
A line of elms plunging and tossing like horses,
And everyone, everyone pointing up and shouting!
Can words describe the fragrance of the very breath of spring-
For many, it’s rather easy to spot the clutter that surrounds them: “Oh look! A Runners World magazine from April 2004!” Too many gadgets, stacks of tired magazines, shot glasses from travels far and wide; some may be treasure, most of it is trash.
In our personal gardens, our yoga practice, even if we have little or no practical knowledge, we are able to differentiate the “weeds” from the “turnips“. Over the years, through gentle and attentive practice we can spot in the tiniest sprout of green breaking the earth whether it is a tasty zucchini or another annoying weed (dandelion wine anyone?!?). We plant our gardens to suit our unique individual tastes, why not in our yoga practice or whatever else you are going to enjoy today?
Our inner spirit as well as the way in which we present ourselves to the (insert something that resonates with you this lovely Wednesday morning here ______) world needs to be picked and tossed away every so often. Only You can plant the garden of your heart and only You can choose the way in which you weed the garden of your life.
This is a really broad conversation to have with yourself and one that I have often. All of us are exposed to new ideas, new poses, new movements all of the time. Ask yourself this question today before you pick a new workout from Shape magazine or a trendy yoga pose from some random blog-o-post: Will this make me happy?!?
Be well today!