i need a machete. but we will get to that later.
have you ever had an experience so remarkable that you reflect immediately? the reflection sounds like poetry in your mind. right there. instant, beautiful, reflection. but then the experience is so gripping that alas, you forget. you forget that perfect jaw dropping string of words. then, you maybe get so hung up on losing the perfect, eloquent, prize winning, blue-ribbon, no-better-way-to-describe-it words that the entire experience some how feels lost. maybe you feel like you can’t begin to retell the story until that perfectly polished description magically finds it’s way back into your mind. and then sometimes it doesn’t happen at all. the words never find their way back. maybe, you wait so long for those words, that you can’t think in poetry about new experiences. extraordinary opportunities blend in with what feels mundane and become missed connections and blank blog post drafts.
i have been in this space since the friends for life conference nearly a month ago. it isn’t much like me to be at a loss for words. i’ve considered myself ‘articulate’ since i learned the adjective in 3rd grade.
i am still baffled by my inability to remember the great thoughts i had while there. all of those experiences i no longer have confidence/memory expressing, feel so distant. i keep expecting them to find their way to me like used test strips. used test strips are just lying around everywhere i go, every where i have been, and seemingly every where i will go. they find me in the grocery store, in the office, on pathways, in public restrooms, private restrooms, movie theaters, everywhere.
maybe my tendency towards this passive approach extends beyond writers block.
my passive approach is so protected by beliefs of the universe and how it works to get me where i need to be. i know i am an intuitive feeler. i take risks when i feel like i should. i listen to street sounds, watch stop lights, and predict sirens and horns honking. i do this to affirm my current location in space and time.
i’m passive when i feel like i should, i take risks when i feel some kind of external push from the ‘universe’, which generally takes the form of consecutive coincidences during normal life routine.
i do what i am doing until i get some kind of feeling to do something more or something else. if there is a driver in me somewhere, i must listen well. my body makes for a great passenger. i’m trusting.
that all sounds great, doesn’t it? listening to the universe and your inner drive? letting life guide you as you go? being open enough to allow opportunity to present itself while simultaneously having enough conviction that what you’re doing is what you are supposed to be doing to avoid tragedy or crisis?
here’s the problem with what seems great and ooh la la good time:
i’ve lost my diabetes gold like i’ve lost my perfect, eloquent, prize winning, blue-ribbon, no-better-way-to-describe-it FFL memory words.
like with writers block, i keep waiting for my diabetes numbers to just magically improve. i keep thinking that when my body’s chemistry changes, when i am outside of this period of diabetes-epic-fail-no-matter-how-hard-i-try, management will just become easier. it will just change on its own when the universe is ready for it to. great management will find its way to me like used test strips. in the grocery store, in the office, on pathways, in public restrooms, private restrooms, movie theaters, everywhere.
that kind of hands off success sounds so good and so tempting. and i’m so excited for the day it all changes.
i just can’t wait to find it!
i mean, i really can’t wait to find it.
i need to find it now.
does some one have a treasure map?
a little piece of paper with an X on it that will lead me to the diabetes gold?
and maybe a machete?
a machete would be good too, so i can start hacking away at all of the tall grass in my way of the path to the diabetes gold. slashing away all my bad habits, like eating cheetos and cookies everyday. like serial watching law and order three times a week.
it doesn’t even have to be a magic machete. just a really sharp one.
do you have one for me?
i’d really like to start playing an active role again.
i want my diabetes gold back.