So I’m laying in the gravel at the park. Again. My knee is throbbing, my running pants are a little ripped, but they already were from the last time, so whatever. There is blood. Fortunately, my palm skin is intact, but it will be bruised. I look around to assess how much of a spectacle I’ve made of my forty-year-old self, rolling down a hill. I’m immediately thinking about how head-in-the-clouds ungrounded I am, how I’m always laid out in the dirt, wondering why I can’t even stand on my own two feet and all that.
You know, rolling the old perennial story of not enough around in my skull. Everything I do, I do in the name of stability and clearly I’m failing miserably! I think. That patch of gravel becomes a pity party patio.
This word has been the beat of my heart for the last decade. My proverbial carrot on a stick. It’s been in the name of stability that I’ve made so many choices about life and relationships. Stability is something I’ve long assumed other people have. You know. THEM. The other parents, the millennials backpacking through Asia with trust funds, the southeast Portland families I hobby-loathe, the people with impressive resumes. They have it.
That’s right. I hobby-loathe families in the name of stability. Don’t judge. Or do. Whatever.
Anyhow, recently, I made a huge move towards this goal. Yeah. You might remember a couple of posts ago? I moved into a new house? Party of five etcetera?
Well, I moved right back out. Yeah. That happened. And, to be honest, I don’t really know what I’m going to do next. I’m all up in the in-between right now.
It was one of the bigger course corrections of my life. Mostly because it wasn’t because anything was awful and I had to run away. This was not reactive, not even close. Many things, in fact, were the loveliest. The pros column was long. I realized I was doing what I thought I should think is right and couldn’t go another day doubting what my cells and bones were telling me was true about what was right. Even though that might look radically different.
I decided to trust my self counsel fully and completely. Like balls to the wall trust.
Can I just say? It’s feeling a whole lot like stability over here.
Meanwhile, I’ve still got no idea where I’ll land. Except here on the ground, in the gravel. Ow.
It occurs to me in one of those circulatory system AHA moments that stability is something I’ve practiced so much, that the truth is that I am actually a motherfucking wizard of stability. A master of stability. Or, at the very least, hopefully, I am someone who can write a blog post about stability.
Nah. I want to be a wizard. Going with WIZARD, you guys. Keep up.
Because I have some magical moment shit to say about stability.
Stability isn’t fucking real.
Seriously. I didn’t invent that. Which means I’m probably not a wizard at all. I just like saying “wizard”.
Anyway, the point is that there isn’t a moment of your life that you really know a thing about what will happen next, or whether or not you will live to see it. It’s just the truth. It can be scary or it can be grounding. Say we go with the latter.
Obviously, there is stability being able to pay your rent and feed your kids. There is stability in having some place safe to sleep at night. But when your basic needs are met and you find yourself continually in self doubt or fear of lack or loss, stability can absolutely be your ability to continually redefine solace for yourself no matter what. And then redefine it again. And again.
Your stability relies on your flexibility. Think about that for a sec.
Your stability relies on trusting yourself. If it feels bad, dishonest, manipulative, obligatory, scary, not right, or maybe even just not exciting, it could be the wrong direction.
Your stability also relies on your ability to adhere to the basics of your normalcy and your self care. No excuses.
Get up. Hydrate, exercise, love, laugh, eat the things that nourish your body, and support your clear digestion, get something inspiring in through your senses, do your work and your service, and then sleep long and sound. Rinse and repeat. Do these things despite what else is going on in your life as often as you can. Ensuring that the container and vehicle you carry yourself around in, your body, is as stable as possible puts you way ahead of the mental and emotional stability game.
That good body of yours is the finest tool you have for giving and receiving, for creating and maintaining. And, sometimes, for falling and getting back up to keep on running.
Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I wish for you much love, and all the stability. Everyday.
image by me. it was a super moon. obvs.