Lumps and Bumps

I woke up and I knew I was ready to go home.  I didn’t sleep quite as soundly, I felt a twinge of anxiety, and my brain was fully awake and driving me wild.

I’m rebooted.  When I got to the beach on Sunday afternoon, I was done.  I ate dinner in bed at 6, watched Shameless and was asleep by 7.  I stayed that way for almost 12 hours.  Rinse and repeat nearly exactly on Monday, minus a phone call, dinner and TV on the couch and an added hour of awake time.  I slept again for almost 11 hours.  I got outside every day, explored the towns on foot, walked the boardwalk and worked from somebody’s else’s dining room table and window view.  I did my best to stay off of my phone and out of too many social engagements and let go. 

I’ve been hustling.  Not unconsciously, but I’ve found myself saying “yes” to a lot more than I can give.  By the time I was heading up to New Jersey, I was done.  And so it goes. 

I am of service – all of the time.  I speak at a lot of meetings, I am doing podcast interviews and exploiting my story, and I talk on the phone in between.  It helps me, until it doesn’t.  It feels good, until it doesn’t.  It makes sense, until I need a break.  Thankfully the Universe is chalk full of opportunities to be of service, and to also remind me that I need a break so I can actually be of real service.

Ebbs and flows, that is real life balance.  I swing and I sway on and off that center line and eventually land on both feet again.  I work hard, and I like working hard.  I am busy, and I like being busy.  I made a commitment to impact the world at large, and I am sticking to that commitment.

It can get overwhelming and enticing to say “fuck it, I’m out” when I hit that wall I hit Sunday.  It can seem smarter to do less and say “no”, but I wouldn’t remember the value of saying “no” if I didn’t over execute the “yes” on occasion.  I wouldn’t treasure the value of solace and quiet if I didn’t sometimes burn the candle to the floor.

And here we are.  I’m recharged.  I’ve let go of my frustration with my own expectations not meeting me where I want to be and am reminded that this life is so delicate, so precious, so worth living exactly as laid out of all of us.

A year ago I was a week off of winning the biggest event of my physical life.  A month later I would be on the ground, literally broken and weeks from my first surgery.  If you had told me that I’d surpass both of those feats, continue on to the place I am now and invested fully in my own person and in my own life, I would’ve laughed.  I wouldn’t have been able to see it, although I would’ve been able to trust you.

That’s what practicing the principles will do for you: enable your trust even without your sight.  I can’t tell where I’m going, and I don’t know for certain what it’s going to look like, but I can trust that I’m going exactly where I’m supposed to go.  I can trust that it’s going to be better and likely different and exactly for me.  I can trust that it’ll take the exact time it’s supposed to take – not the time I am pushing.  I can trust that it’ll take the exact number of lumps and bumps, sacrifices and triumphs.  Not one more, and not one less.

Can you?

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Scroll to Top