You're going to die.
Let that settle for a second. I'll wait.
You are going to die one day. We all are. Obviously. So why am I sharing that piece of not-so-new news with you? Because I actually heard that (I mean really heard it) a few months ago. I heard it, in a place where it resonated. I am going to die and what will I have done? What will I have to show for it? What will I be proud of having done? What will I regret doing or not doing?
I am going to die.
I'm not sure why now, but this was a bit of a kick in the pants for me. I have been about to become a writer, about to become an artist, about to get in shape, about to commit to my ethics, about to spend more time with my family and friends,...about to do a lot of things, for some time now. But I haven't actually done those things.
Until now.
Until I accepted into my heart and my soul and my mind, that I am going to die. And it scared me.
So where do you think I started? If you look at that list of things that I have been about to do at any moment, where do you think I started?
BOXING!
Ha ha. That surprised you, didn't it? It surprised me a bit too, but I was looking for something exciting, interesting, something to make me feel more alive because man oh man, I was feeling bogged down with adulty life things. I really needed to let loose a bit and try something new, something that scared me. And it was boxing.
And I'm so glad that I did. I love, love, love it.
The first three weeks, I was unable to lift my arms over my head which made life much more difficult. But slowly (excruciatingly slowly) with massage, chiropractor, and physiotherapy appointments (I am so not kidding), I was able to work through the debilitating pain and get stronger. Stronger. Yay.
I am still the weakest person in the class to be sure, but at 48 years old, I'm okay with that. I won't be competing or fighting or becoming involved in a bar brawl, but I have done this uncomfortable thing. This thing where I am the oldest person in the room, the most out of shape person in the room, the most uncoordinated (I could go on),...I did a really hard thing and I'm so proud of myself.
And I feel like this is the start of a bunch of hard, uncomfortable things that I am set to do now. So maybe, just maybe, when I do come to the end, I will be proud and satisfied, content with the choices I made, the accomplishments I garnered. Sigh. Just maybe.
What about you? Is this something that is a struggle for you also?
Let that settle for a second. I'll wait.
You are going to die one day. We all are. Obviously. So why am I sharing that piece of not-so-new news with you? Because I actually heard that (I mean really heard it) a few months ago. I heard it, in a place where it resonated. I am going to die and what will I have done? What will I have to show for it? What will I be proud of having done? What will I regret doing or not doing?
I am going to die.
I'm not sure why now, but this was a bit of a kick in the pants for me. I have been about to become a writer, about to become an artist, about to get in shape, about to commit to my ethics, about to spend more time with my family and friends,...about to do a lot of things, for some time now. But I haven't actually done those things.
Until now.
Until I accepted into my heart and my soul and my mind, that I am going to die. And it scared me.
So where do you think I started? If you look at that list of things that I have been about to do at any moment, where do you think I started?
BOXING!
Ha ha. That surprised you, didn't it? It surprised me a bit too, but I was looking for something exciting, interesting, something to make me feel more alive because man oh man, I was feeling bogged down with adulty life things. I really needed to let loose a bit and try something new, something that scared me. And it was boxing.
And I'm so glad that I did. I love, love, love it.
The first three weeks, I was unable to lift my arms over my head which made life much more difficult. But slowly (excruciatingly slowly) with massage, chiropractor, and physiotherapy appointments (I am so not kidding), I was able to work through the debilitating pain and get stronger. Stronger. Yay.
I am still the weakest person in the class to be sure, but at 48 years old, I'm okay with that. I won't be competing or fighting or becoming involved in a bar brawl, but I have done this uncomfortable thing. This thing where I am the oldest person in the room, the most out of shape person in the room, the most uncoordinated (I could go on),...I did a really hard thing and I'm so proud of myself.
And I feel like this is the start of a bunch of hard, uncomfortable things that I am set to do now. So maybe, just maybe, when I do come to the end, I will be proud and satisfied, content with the choices I made, the accomplishments I garnered. Sigh. Just maybe.
What about you? Is this something that is a struggle for you also?
