Exploring both what's inside my mind and out

6.26.2013

The Journey

If she had known the journey would be so defeating, she never would have begun. And yet, her enthusiasm and excitement propelled her along, yes. For many years she believed in magic, in love, in beginnings. She had not experienced many endings or not many that were tragic. School girl crushes, first loves, things such as that but never the slow killing off of her enthusiasm. She couldn’t even blame it on any one person. It was many people and it was herself who helped to destroy those dreams. Those half lived lives she would begin and then abandon. Lives abandoned to follow another, abandoned because it was too difficult, because she was not instantly a perfect sailor, tennis player or mother. Slowly, and bit by bit, the belief died. Until by the time she was half way through her life, she realized it might be too late. Oh, there were several demonstrations and attempts to restart but eventually, she gave in. Gave in to her fears, her misgivings, to others and to the shoulds. Was it too late? Could she start again or was she weary of the fight? Was it too late? Were there too many cricks in her joints, too many gray hairs on her head. Was it too late? Was her heart up to beginning another journey. Too late to kickstart an abundant life? Too late for her to be the woman in the saying “Well behaved women rarely make history”? Was it too late for her to make history or even to misbehave? But wait this can’t be a “whoa is me” story. This must be a story of triumph over an obstacle even if the obstacle was herself. And so, she again begins the journey, pulling herself up by the boot straps (does this require wearing boots?), picking herself up and dusting herself off, beginning, starting, commencing, impelling, inaugurating, motivating, originating, founding, plunging into, inducting, conceptualizing once again. And what to do to, you know, what was said earlier, in order to start? Knitting class, that is the next big undertaking. She would knit vests for herself and her husband. She would knit socks for her sons and daughter. She would create beautiful works of art. Once she learned to knit one, purl two. And yet again, beginning that lesson, she wasn’t perfect. So disheartening not to fly out of the knitting gate with speed and elegance. She was awkward, and forgot that the yarn goes through not around.

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