Duck and jab. Bob and weave. I thought I moved to Los Angeles to pursue a life of creative exploration. Little did I know, I was simply training to be a prizefighter. This journey has been less about producing art and more about the ability to take a punch and remain standing.
So I refuse to fall. If every path were a straight line, there would be no satisfaction at the finish. If the attainment of goals was as simplistic as checking off boxes on a list, we’d all feel grossly overcompensated for the paltry energy output and stolen shortcuts. There is a sense of earned accomplishment when the road to success is littered with landmines. Unfortunately, those bombs have a sneaky knack for detonation.
Still, this recent realignment has painted my canvas with a fresh coat of hope. I have to remember that each time barriers were built to slow my progress, I looked back fondly on those obstacles as reminders that I veered off course. Thankfully, many of those failed intentions would have been disastrous, and the universe made sure I was forced to see outside the tunnel. It’s not our job to question why one door closes, but to look carefully for the next handle to turn.
This year will be loaded with constant steps toward the light of possibility. Lessons never cease to be learned, and those scrapes and bruises give us the time and space necessary to heal and plan.
Momentum is a dynamic thing. Valleys frequently follow hilltops, and there’s little we can do but ride the coaster. Positivity, focus, and motivation are excellent emotional catalysts, but the globe spins to its own drum beat, regardless of how many laws of attraction are added to our daily to-do lists. We can angst and fret and project and stress, or we can release what is beyond our control and wait to catch the next wave. The universal laws of balance have a way of working themselves out.
This is a classic “practice what you preach” cautionary tale, and it’s one I should shoot into my earholes post-haste. Who are these people who think about impending events the day before they occur, instead of months in advance? How are these unicorns bred to simply and casually adapt to unforeseen circumstances, as opposed to methodically planning every conceivable attack plan, should a situation arise that upsets the setup? Where is this flow that everyone is going with, and how can my brain get excited about taking a tube ride into river rapids? It all feels wildly precarious, yet many people seem to find the firmest ground when their feet aren’t planted.
Smooth roads are an illusion as tangible as total control. A burst of good news is routinely trailing behind discouragement and vice versa. Perhaps tunnel vision, eyes-on-the-prize thinking is the safest means of travel. An ostrich with its head in the sand never feels the rain fall.
But it never sees the sun rise.