Get vaccinations done. Call Doctor’s office. Check on passport. Review flight path. Look into international phone plans. Catch up on the news (such as, uh, possibly at least the highlights of the Superbowl. . .). Finish moving into flat, which is upstairs. . .
Pretend to like stairs.
Clean old house. Clean new place, again. Find shoes, preferably ones that match. Remove boxes from mattress so it can be used for its intended purpose. Go to the chiropractor for an adjustment due to a) sleeping on anything except said cozy rectangular resting platform for the last five days, and b) moving super heavy shit in possibly not such smart ways.
Pack lunches. Make breakfast. Stop burning dinner. Get kids to school on time(ish). Start teaching new class at new college. Rely exclusively on experience and wit to teach the three already in session. Cover three additional classes this week at the college for a sick colleague. Forget about plans to meet with friend for coffee. Also forget about plans to meet with friends for wine. Start teaching yin yoga at new office.
Paint walls. Hang pictures. Make holes in walls. Fill holes in walls. Use a stuffed turtle as a level while hanging shelves. . . What? It totally worked. That shelf is perfect. . . ly acceptably temporarily installed.
That’s not even half my list for this week. Yes, this week. Not this month, this WEEK.
Oh, and I also get to find ways to generate another $2,500 for the Africa Yoga Project before say. . . March 2nd, because while the fundraiser was AMAZING, we still have a lot of roofs, I mean, uh, funds, to raise before we go.
Yep. Here I go again, life at warp speed. Overdoing it as usual. Nothing like the final quarter to really light a fire under my metaphorical (literal?) ass.
We leave for Africa in less than a month. A month. 26ish days and I’ll be en route on the journey of a lifetime.
And, as I continue to fly by the seat of my pants hour by hour, minute by minute, day by day, I’m also busy reviewing a whole lot of other things— where and with whom I spend my time, what I want to keep and what I’m ready to remove from my plate, what to say in my will, the meaning of life. . .
No really. I’m serious.
A trip like this gives a person a little pause, a reason to reflect, a moment of retrospect.
What is really important to me? What is really meaningful to me? How did I get to be where I am now, who is there with me, and why?
This, if nothing else, is an opportunity to show gratitude to be alive, well, and sharing joy with others.
As it turns out, that just like America’s favorite band, I too get by with a little (okay a lot) of help from my friends.
You help me, help me. You also help me help you. To re-state —in a less Jerry Maguire-esque way— ours is a relationship of reciprocity, mutual empowerment and team effort; it’s a Karmic circle of life.
I’m standing where I am because I’ve done what I’ve done, I knew who I knew, I met who I met, I learned what I learned, I failed what I failed, I made what I made, I chose what I chose, I loved what I loved, and, most importantly,
I reached up, grabbed the hands of those standing there to help me, and I climbed right up and out of the box I had built myself.
I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, and I know it. So are you, whether you know it or not.
And (but?) change takes courage; it takes pain, it takes learning, heart and the willingness to see what’s right in front of you, waiting just outside the door.
Want some help getting out of your own walled in space? Guess what? I have two hands, I like heavy lifting and I really love people. Raise your hand, I’ll grab it. Promise.