Peek-A-Boo

Been working in the yard, catching up with all the weeds and overgrowth that have invaded since my pollen-induced absence in April. Now, loaded with gallons of Round Up Extended Control, rubber gloves and a case full of pruners, trimmers, nippers, rippers, hoes, and shovels, the Doctor is most certainly "in". If I only had someone to heed, "Scalpel!" all would be well. Imagined screams of terror from the thistles, weeds and poke berry at my approaching footfalls gives me pleasure. Napalm in the morning and all that.

Finally got a bona fide Step, (thank you Cathe Friedrich) and am now fully and completely addicted to step aerobics. Tried a little Low Impact this morning as a change of pace... yawn. Oh, well. It's hard being so athletic (HA! This from the girl who dreaded the Presidential Physical Fitness Test like the Black Death -- pull-ups and the mile run casting the longest and darkest shadow). But smug as I may be about some things, I must concede -- it's a rush. (Who said that?) Been working out for about 8 years now and I keep getting more and more "into it". I hope I'm one of those vital old elderly women who exudes life and vigor and still walks 3 miles every day well into her 80's. That'd be so cool.

I'm gaining weight in "recovery" from my eensie-weensie little eating disorder. But all is not lost, as long as I keep my nutrition and exercise levels constant, my metabolism should get the picture and start shedding fat again. But here's the thing: What if it doesn't? *shrug*

Figuring out what really makes true "life" worth pursuing has been a hard thing. But once the light bulb went on *click* I've been so blissfully, peacefully, calmly and easy-goingly happy. Capital H. It's weird. Gaining weight was the Boogie Monster. It scared the hell out of me and somewhere in my schizoid frame of mind I thought that my life would come crashing down if I did. I screamed and cried and FREAKED OUT about the prospect that it might. I thought my life would just stop and every ounce of beauty and wonder and love and enlightenment would leak out, leaving me a wrinkled, deflated corpse of a soul imprisoned in a "fat" body. I thought my life would stop *snap!*. There was nothing beyond the brink. Nothing. The film stopped there. The only way I thought my life could and would proceed was if I maintained my weight or lost "just a little more". But a funny thing happened: I started to eat the recommended calories and develop the recommended respect, appreciation and perspective for my particular human body and...

Life.
Kept.
Going.

*hmph, well that's weird...*

Not only did my life not stop, I faced my worst fear and survived. Some people have to climb Mt. Everest, handle snakes, roll in dirt, go skydiving or face down a now-imprisoned attacker in order to face their fears. I only had to give up. I can go where God wants me to go and do what He wants me to do unencumbered. I put it down. That heaving weight got plopped on the side of the trail and no longer keeps me squinting in pain and pride and anger. Gone. Buh-bye.

I put new strings on my guitar, started a collage, put together two photo albums and got back in the yard. And I'm not afraid of ice cream; not afraid of bread; not afraid of making mistakes; not afraid of loving; learning; letting go and living. This is what free feels like.

Hate to tack this on, it feels so schmaltzy... but I gotta': If you're scared, anxious, afraid, obsessive about a something -- and if you are, you know what it is -- let it go. It's the scariest thing you'll ever do; the hardest; the most life threatening. But real life will not begin until you open your hand and let it fly.

Trust me.