The strands of what has unraveled still twist around, waiting to be woven back in. Let’s pick them up again. This is where I am and then – the resistance.
The resistance swells within me before I even get started. Everything seems too hard, too much, too boring, too overdone, too simple, too complicated.
I read a little and flit around the internet, searching. But I’m not really searching, I’m distracting. And if I do it long enough, I’m numbing. Dumbing down the roar that was within me insisting on more, dousing the desire, dampening the fire.
The resistance has met me over and over and I’ve heard the only thing that can be done about it is to just do the things anyways. Do the things awkwardly or with mediocrity – just do them. Plowing through a thing goes against most of my nature, but I think that to do a thing poorly is still better than feeling poorly for not doing a thing because I couldn’t do it perfectly.
There is resistance when we try to change things – habits, ideas, routines. There is resistance when we try to grow. The resistance is swift, conniving, convincing. Maybe it’s just tempting, lulling.
It’s a false prophet, a trickster, a wolf in sheep’s cloth.
But really, it can only be an enemy when I grant it access within and then exhaust myself pushing against it, trying to get it to move when all I really need to do is release my connection to it all together and let it be, without me.
I’ve laid my heart upon it and believed it’s stories and trusted it’s movements but tonight…tonight I’m taking care and so I’m relegating all the noise to some place else.
Maybe you’re meeting resistance too, whatever that means for you.
May you have the willingness to take the next sloppy step, pick up the fluttering strands, and find the resistance losing it’s pull and power because you’ve taken it into your own hands.