Out with the Dragon - and seeing that its spiky tail has whipped my a** more than once in 2012, I can't say I'm sad to see it go. I am however excited to welcome that circular, sneak-ular goddess, the Black Snake that rules 2013. Both of these animals are powerful, but they seem to wield their influence in different ways. Both animals represent some level of ambition, and I have been caught in the storm between them for some weeks now.
Ambition is such a lofty word. Somehow, if I hear it out of context, it has the sheen of purity around it. After the holidays, the glow looked more like sweaty aspiration and rumpled moxie languishing under steaming piles of aimless striving. Uncomfortable, if not only for the constant dissatisfaction - and at turns, incredibly dark. I forgot that ambition can turn into a "respectable" stand-in for self deprecation in a heartbeat. Be better, move faster, win more, define success - home, work, health, art, body, beauty, love, etc. As I get older, it seems like the sinkholes grow bigger, and I'm more likely to fall in. But at least on the way down, I'm starting to grab on to the smaller, specific tasks and goals and efforts that actually stack up to dreams. I'm beginning to realize that being conscious of those steps means you soak the lesson for all its worth, and you get to celebrate more often.
Ah, celebrate. To truly stop, sit back, and feel some sense of pride or joy - how often do we really do that, in a manner devoid of arrogance, or hyperbole, or meek understatement? I sometimes feel it could make all the difference between feeling exhausted or thrilled by my desires. My family and I went to Chile on New Year's Day, to surf and work and visit old friends, and I found myself obsessed with all these thoughts. It took that whole journey and the advice of dear friends and loved ones to gently turn my focus from dissatisfaction to gratitude.
It's a leap of concerted faith to practice gratitude when all you feel is inadequacy. So I started with the obvious - my funky little family unit, the education my parents have given me, my unbelievable patients and friends... and in a short time, this practice has gotten more sophisticated, and satisfying, and suddenly I'm kind of overwhelmed with gratitude. Even the painful and undesirable spaces feel more open and acceptable, now that I believe they aren't just designed to hurt me. And even though nothing is finished or signed or set in stone, grounding in a state of gratitude makes me feel un-rushed and confident.
One more piece of this puzzle that's proving to be epic:
When we were on our trip to Chile, I had a teacher named Ismael who took us out surfing. I had a terrible first day and felt super crappy about it, but I was cautiously determined to turn it around the next day.
That day, the first sets that came in - I just kept bailing. You're not trusting your board, Ismael said. You have to trust it like it's your mother. I didn't really understand what he meant, but I figured I'd try believing it, and see if it changed anything. I looked back at him as I was getting ready for the next wave, and he said Go with faith. Go with faith.
That was it. It kept me up that whole week, and in moments when the clouds roll and the lights dim and I look back at the swell of impossible coming my way, I'll try to remember. With gratitude.
And then try and catch just one more.
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