When your brightest self goes AWOL

The problem with writing an inspirational-type blog is that times inevitably come when I look back on old posts and cannot relate to them in the slightest. It's like some overly-optimistic, delusional person hacked into my blog and started posting--that's how foreign my words sometimes seem to me. They cause me to roll my eyes. They cause me to think: whatever. 

I believe what I'm writing, when I write it. But that doesn't keeping me from waking up the next day, completely unable to capture those same feelings.

In yoga, you discover that just because you can do a pose one day, that doesn't mean you'll be able to do it the next day. Our physical capabilities change from day to day, so I guess it makes sense that our mental capabilities fluctuate as well. Dang it. 

Will you indulge me in a silly metaphorical leap involving Tinker Bell and her friends from Pixie Hollow? (If not, feel free to stop reading now :) They can't fly when their wings are wet. You can imagine the inconvenience, when things that are normally simple (i.e. flying great distances, or in my case, unloading the dishwasher) become pretty much insurmountable. But what can they do? They can't control the weather. They just have to wait it out. Wait for the rain to stop, for their wings to dry.

Waiting it out is pretty much the best solution I've found for when my brightest self goes AWOL. Fighting against the {navy blue} blues generally just makes me feel more helpless. So I practice surrendering--admitting to myself that I'm not going to be super productive, and post-poning lofty goals. Take a nap, if possible. I hope that the current darkness will somehow propel me forward along that ever-winding path toward becoming. I'm not very good at this whole accepting-myself-as-I-am-including-bad-moods, yet. The term AWOL, or absent without leave, seems fitting because I never give my limitations permission to be part of my life. But they are. In Meditations from the Mat, Rolf Gates says: 

"When we do feel lost or uncertain, drifting away from our own truth, it helps to remember that darkness and confusion, too, are part of the path." 

My wings will dry off, and the idea of exercise won't seem so abhorrent, and I'll remember why exactly I find my child so adorable at times, and maybe I'll even return to cooking half-decent dinners. Maybe. :)

(Side note: There's a song by Feist called "I Feel It All." I kind of thought the lyrics said, "My wings are wet," but they actually say "the wings are wide." So, I don't think Feist has watched much Tinkerbell, after all.)