Digging In
I discovered something. There’s a background reason that I blog—and I wasn’t fully aware of it.
I knew the reasons in front: To bring out my thinking and dreaming, to share personal experiences that might inspire others, to offer tools for navigating and finding meaning in tough experiences, to teach skills to people who coach or counsel others. A deep wish: for things to be easier, more facile for you than they have been for me, especially in relationship.
But there’s a background reason, and I only sort of knew it: To get me into a writing habit and prepare me to embark on a larger project. There’s been a book brewing for over a decade, but I’ve been busy working in the world and managing the vicissitudes of my unruly psyche. I haven’t made the time or allowed myself the extended stints of introversion that it takes to sit down and extract it from my heart and brain and from the depths of me.
It’s been a long gestation, but I’ve been at it for a while, and now I’m settling in.
As soon as I began this larger project, I started having dreams about riding my bicycle. To my great disappointment, I don’t spend glorious nights flying through downhill dreamscapes, surrounded by sweeping vistas with the wind at my back and smooth, fresh asphalt under my tires. Nope—not my dreaming.
Instead, I pedal up impossibly steep hills, endless mountains really, that go on for miles. In my dreams, there’s only one way to make it up these giant hills. I have to sit in my seat and dig in; I have to keep my butt plastered for the duration. If I get off my seat (which I do), even if to push extra hard or use a different muscle set, I teeter to the side, fall over, or (once) fall off a cliff.
As a real live cyclist, endurance is my strength—certainly not my power, speed or skill finesse. My other strength is attitude. My riding buddies say I always keep it positive: rain or shine, chip seal or potholes, as long as I have Lara Bars, Gatorade and breaks to stop and pee, I'm good. Even if the trip is longer than expected or it’s 102 degrees, when the going gets tough, I get cheerful and cheering.
My secret: No critic in my head, saying I won’t make it or I’m a shitty fucked-up failure for not having known it would hail.
All of this to let you know I’m taking a break from blogging—for now. I may be back with the occasional post or update, but in the meantime, I’ll be sitting at my desk, digging in and climbing.
See you on the way, or at the top, or on other side. Love you and thanks for being here with me.
Jan Dworkin, PhD. Facilitator, Coach, Therapist, Multi-cultural educator, Awareness Cultivator, Art Dabbler. If you like my blog, please share or subscribe here.