First Day of March. Madness! I Can’t Wait for Lambs…

How is it that I so often forget to do the exact things that make me feel whole, human, alive, not simply a suggestion of what I could be, what I am? My thoughts would be so much better placed on paper or a computer, than on the slippery surface of my mind, where they climb up again and again into the forefront of my consciousness, only to slide back into who knows where, in an effort to make space for “more pressing” information. Things like “where did I put my keys?”, “what time is it?”, “what else is on my to do list?”… And is it that I forget to write, or that I simply choose not to? So many thoughts that cause a sensation of thickening in my brain, the longer they go without being expelled. That’s all writing is. Thoughts to paper. Bam. Should be easy. If I did it every day, every time I had an idea, I would probably lessen the thick feeling, and also come up with some pretty cool stuff. I am always hoping that the genius ideas that have passed through my brain without being written down will one day arise again at the precise moment when I need them most. I really really hope that they’re not lost forever. If I wrote them down I wouldn’t have to worry about this. Also, it would give me an opportunity to see how many of them are not genius at all, and then let them go altogether.

But there are certain barriers to writing. One of them I addressed in my previous post, which is a tendency to make silly rules about when and where and how and what I am allowed to write. Another goes along with this one. The perfectionist in me has a voice so loud that it often drowns out the voice that’s more important, the voice that actually has something to say. The perfectionist’s voice can suck it. It tells me that what I have to say isn’t good enough. It says that I won’t be able to adequately express myself in the time I have available. It interrupts the creative flow with unsolicited commentary on my ideas or my word choice or my grammar or my general being. Right this second it’s telling me that I shouldn’t write so many run on sentences and write or or or without any commas. It pains me to resist its critique, but I know it’s for my own good. The perfectionist is a merciless critic, who speaks for others but not for me. And the others are imaginary. So who is it really speaking for? Another voice. The fear. The more I inquire into my thought patterns that don’t serve me, the more I see that most, if not all of them, are rooted in fear.

I love yoga. I just finished a 15 month long teacher training, and I am prepped to teach my first class tomorrow. Fear tells me I’m not prepared. It says that I’m a fraud and that all of my students will see through me. If they tell me they like my class, fear will say “ha! they’re just humoring you.” It’s funny, even now as I write this, there’s a voice inside saying that I should stop “wasting time” writing, and work on my sequence more. Even just a moment ago, it told me that this will be the last thing I write for a long time because I’m going to get too caught up in other things and forget to, or choose not to, write. Well I am challenging myself right now. I will write something, ANYTHING, every day. Maybe a finite amount of time is good. For one month. And oh! It’s perfect because today is the first of the month. So every day in March I will write something on this blog. And I just put this challenge out to myself in a public forum, which will make it even more likely that I’ll keep it. Which is, by the way, a terrible reason to keep this promise to myself, because all of a sudden that makes it about my fear of breaking a commitment in front of people, instead of a genuine desire to do this for myself. But if it motivates me… I guess it’s one way of turning something negative around to gain something positive. And it still is something I want to do for myself. Maybe I’ll even explore this need to seem any way at all for anyone else besides myself. Because I recognize that it’s silly. But one thing I’ve learned is that recognizing that some personal habit has no usefulness whatsoever, is NOT enough to change it. That shit is deep-seeded. I can take solace in the fact that I’m even trying. Wow. This post has leaped off the edge of self-deprecating and into total wallow territory. I should put a disclaimer at the top. Want to read my blog? It’s all about blah blah blah I’m awful blah blah blah. SO entertaining. But it’s not for you all. It’s for me. Why I’m putting it on the internet if it’s for me, I don’t know. Maybe because I know other people have these kinds of days too, and if it makes anyone feel less crazy to hear my crazy, then by all means I will share it. Plus, this is helpful to drain all this dribble out. It’s like I turned the faucet on my brain and let it pour out all over this blog. ENJOY!

p.s. Now that I have it out of my system I think I’m prepared to write about more interesting topics than my neuroses. For all of our sake, let’s hope so.

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