The Twelve Minute Flail.

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Lightning veins, like those photographs of the interior of our eyes’ retinas, uncovered the dark grey silkiness of the night clouds.   Such a strange storm like one of those silent black-and-white movies, telling its own story without the expected sounds of rain bursts and winds, only revealing its characters with rushes of dangerous white brilliance.  The true message, however, was not in the flashes rather in the grey background curtains, pulled open just long enough to see the true sky.

Thursday, July 7, 2016.

It was on such an evening that I began my new studies.  (But please, do not be impressed – this is not Religious Studies 101 in the formal sense.)  After a day of work, my eyes were tired.  I was wearied with perhaps not my most productive day.  I have noticed how even the thought of studying again has changed my thinking.  So, with tired eyes and a bit weary of heart, I did realize that there is, once again, no right way or wrong way.  I have a choice only to do or not to do.  While I am not ready for coursework and exams, I am ready for online lectures.  Amid the storm I began Online Lecture One – World Religions 101.  I realized maybe the best point of all, arrived at in my usual sideways, most indirect fashion, is that I am learning how to learn.  I am learning how to train myself to think.  I am following my heart to study something I have always wanted to, for me.



I began my new schedule this week!  Up early in the morning I followed all those pieces of advice a person reads about in how to best organize your day.  Workout.  Exercise. Pray. Eat. Plan.

I lasted one day.  I was so exhausted at the end of the day I needed a nap.  I napped so that I was awake half the following night which in turn caused a sleep-in the next morning (I swear though, my alarm clocks do not work!)

And as far as morning exercise I wondered, on that first day, why I did not look like all those beautiful exercise posters and videos.  I won’t even fully admit to how horrible I looked, but I was not even sure if I was looking at myself in the mirror.  I did not even know if I could stand up that early in the morning much less move. I flopped my legs and arms, my head could barely function. I am fifty years old – I have exercised before!  But I could not even remember one.  I flailed.

The twelve minute flail.

For twelve minutes I moved with no grace.  There were moments when my toe touch was leaning over the back of the couch.  (I’m halfway to my toes, right?) But then a funny thing happened.  I woke up.  I stopped flailing.  Now I was no picture perfect exercise guru, but I felt my body move. And so it began.  My new schedule.

Day two = fail. I know I am supposed to fill my head with oodles and oodles of positivity but I am not going to sugar-coat myself.  I failed.  But day three?

Ah ha!  Here is the transition day!  I hit my mini-weekend day, the day off in the middle of the week, a result of my four ten-hour day workweek schedule.  And I began again.  Exercise.  (Still a tad towards the flailing, but……) Eat. Pray. Plan.

Business, then write.

It all makes me wonder when did I get so afraid to flail a bit?  I know there is almost nothing worse to a soul than that mid-stream feeling of ‘what on earth am I doing?’   But as long as you are not truly in the middle of a stream, why not keep swimming?  Or painting? Or writing? Or dancing? Or paperwork?

At least give it twelve minutes.


Who knows?  Under the rubble of that fallen branch from another storm… Elvis, my toad statue…survived.  And a whole crop of….my favorite daisies.





#thebrickdandelion #onewomanslife #windsparadox #imjustme #stephaniespringborn #mybeautifuljourney #thegraceofgratitude #twelveminuteflail

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