The Elephant is in the Room

Three things happened this week that made me put myself "out there"- opportunities for fresh starts, new beginnings. Choices. Path changers. The first is signing up for yoga teacher training. The second is getting another dog. (more on this later, puppies are so interesting) And the third is an email I received from an old college friend asking me about running. A new beginning. It's trying to start new things.

My friend Jess and I had a long conversation Friday about why we can't manage to put our gorgeous, creative selves out there- why it's sooooo hard to say, decoupage a flower pot rather than take a 2 hour nap. Why we try to escape the creative goddess rather than run up, grab her pretty hand and run away into the golden fields of artistic glory.

I'll tell you why. I'm lazy. Lazy, lazy, capital L A Z Y lazy. I don't want to always (read ever) have to feel so obligated to fulfill my dreams. I mean, sheesh, I have been up since 6 AM, and I'm tired. BUT (it was coming) I really want to decoupage a pot, or start this blog, or rake the yard- anything to avoid escaping into the comfortable no-zone 2 hour nap afternoon. But...

What's up with comfort? And why are we so driven to seek it- even when the comfort isn't even really comforting, more like just hurting ourselves out of habit? Like why, as I sit here am I fighting the urge to GET UP and quit writing because it feels so kind of good and also like I may be accomplishing something I really want to do? What IS comfort anyway? Is it feeling safe? Is it escape? Is it hiding? Is it 6 chocolate chip cookies, or a whole bottle of wine just for lil' ol' me?

Comfort is one of those things that's just so hard to define. But discomfort? We all know what that feels like. Discomfort socially, digestively, physically. It's just so hard to put yourself out there. Or to stop when you've had a full meal because the cake is soooo good. Or when you're tired, drained, life has taken it all out of you and you've got nothing left to give, dammit. So why do we seem to revel in that discomfort?

Writing is something I've always loved. Which is why I never, ever do it. Well, unless you count my clever Facebook status updates, then I do that at least once a day. I have always, in the back of my head, in the place where dreams live, wanted to be a writer. And then blogging came along and I thought to myself that here was a way to take all the pressure of writing a book out of the way and just writing. No need for character development, or chapters, or cover designs. Just slice of life memoir-like posts that hopefully someone out there relates to, who has some friends that relate, too- and so on.

But writing is hard, much less finding time to write without kiddos interrupting, or I need to fold laundry, or organize my closet, or- or any other excuse I could use. I mean, I could get up at 4 AM and have a few hours to myself to do some yoga, make some tea, clear out the cobwebs, and write. BUT, the bed is comfy, no normal people get up at that hour just for pleasure (OK, OK- some people do. Brown chicken, brown cow. Perfectly normal.)

I'm wondering why we talk ourselves out of things we really want to do. What makes us resist when our inside people speak up, ahem, and nudge us into the right idea. They never yell, damn them, or get too pushy. It's always more like, "Hey. I have an idea. Get up early, make some tea, do some yoga, and write before anyone else is awake. That would be sooooo nice." whisper, whisper whisper. Then I answer, "NO WAY I COULD DO THAT!" Without even trying. Then those inside people whisper at 4 AM when I cannot go back to sleep- "Try it. Just get up. You know you want to." In a gentle little voice that implies "Hey, no pressure. Only if you want to."

Isn't starting something new so exciting, too? I mean, sure there's the scary part, but then there's also that delicious anticipation, that good feeling of rightness when it's going well, and you're thinking "Oh, am I smart or what. This is going great!" Now that's a good feeling.

Starting something new. I signed up for yoga teacher training today. I was soo nervous- What if she says, "Oh, no. You (with disgust) couldn't be a yoga teacher." But, she didn't. She said nice things like "I can't wait to see you" and "Welcome". Oh. Thank you.

Putting yourself out there can be pretty uncomfortable. And that's what starting new things is all about, really. Breaking out of that little cozy mold you've made, your little Gaga egg, and stretching your fuzzy breakable wings. But I highly recommend it. The inner celebration is worth it- even if, even if- it doesn't turn out the way you'd hoped. Taking chances builds confidence. And confidence makes taking those chances seem even more worth it. You know, one of those full circle sorts of things.

So, I guess by getting up at 3:30 AM, sitting my butt down at the computer and working on this blog I'm starting something else new. And maybe I will run into that elephant on the path. But, if you look closely at the bottom of that picture it says, "Together we can make a difference." I didn't notice that until after I'd chosen it for the picture representing the hardest path. I thought the grassy one looked lovely and easy, and a rocky one- well, you get it. But now, I think that elephant might just help block all the obstacles that stand in the way of me starting something new. Or at least help me not study them so closely. The elephant in the room just might not be a secret, but obvious as he should be. And elephants are big, so I'd be willing to bet he'd help you, too. And so I'm going to keep trying to start new things. Spring seems like just the right time to do it.