Walk on, walk on, walk on

You’re doing it wrong.

This is the message I keep hearing. From my friends, who I assure you are not saying that, even if it’s what my brain hears, and from the voice in my head.

It’s amazing how persistent that message feels right now.When I fall into the cycle of these messages, I tend to feel even more stuck. Stuck. I use that word lot in my life.

When uncertainty meets me face on.

When I feel like I’ve made a mistake.

When the critical voice in my head decides to speak up.

This week, a friend brought me camping in Burlington. She’s been wanting me to travel with her for a while now, but my finances have felt constricting.

Stuck.

IMG_20170704_144407_892I agreed to come up here, as a tent felt like a modest way to explore a new place. “Maybe you’ll like it there,” she had encouraged. “You could move there.” While here, we’ve been exploring the city, tasting maple cremees, and watching the signs of Americana (this is the week of July 4th after all). And each time my friend has suggested I talk to someone or consider something new, something has pushed back, “don’t tell me what to do.”

Stuck.

On Monday, my friend and I went to a donation-based yoga class. As always, I appreciated the chance to be in my body. To slow down, breathe, and remember the lessons yoga brings me. As I bent and stretched, reached up and grounded down, I faced a window. Framed in the window was the flowing river and a metal statue of a woman’s form. She stood in dancer’s pose, one bent leg raised behind her, held by one hand, the other hand reaching in front of her. Beautiful in her complex simplicity. I felt calm. I’m realizing that despite the fact that I’ve had more open time these past two years, I haven’t allowed much space for myself.

As I folded forward, the teacher came over and asked if I had any more room in my neck. I wiggled my head and felt my neck elongate. “There,” she said. “Sometimes you think there is no more room; you’ve gone as far as you can go, and moving just a little can free you up.”

Stuck… move… unstuck. The process and the solution appear to be one and the same.

Two days later, I walked up a mountain, and I remembered how good it felt to move.

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