Time for a new beginning.
Feel the warmth of the sun.
The protective frozen layers have melted away.
Open yourself up to a new life.
The season is spring. It always conjures up images of new beginnings, but it doesn’t have to be spring time to begin again. We can begin, again, every day. Every time we make a choice, it’s a new beginning. Think about it:
- every morning
- every time we open our mouth to say something
- every time we choose
- to buy or not to buy,
- to exercise or not to exercise,
- to be happy or not to be happy,
- to accept or not accept what is.
Spring time is a reminder that we always have the ability to begin again. It’s about choosing how we frame any event, every moment; how we choose to live our life. Choose humility. Choose healthy habits. Choose happiness. Choose acceptance.
Today is the day. Feel the warmth of the sun. Open yourself up to a new life. It’s time for a new beginning.
When I was young, my mom would come charging into my bedroom, opening the curtains, and pulling the covers away from my chin, saying in the most irritatingly cheery voice, “Time to wake up and hear the birds sing.” You can just imagine how abrupt and rude that felt, especially to a teenager!
Now, I find myself getting up early and loving the sounds of birds singing, and I’m saying to myself, with a smile, “Time to wake up and hear the birds sing.” And, I think of my mom.
I ponder the meaning of the words. “Time to wake up” usually means that it’s time to pay attention. “Hear the birds sing”, to me, means to listen but not to everything, listen for pleasant things.
So, today, my goal is to pay special attention to kind words, loving gestures, the beauty of a spring day, and the songs of the birds. And, I will smile and think of my mom!
Yea, right. Everyone, who knows me, is laughing, like hell, right now! She just called herself an athlete? HA!
I was the kid who was picked last for any game in gym class. I’m the one who joined a coed volleyball team, as an adult, and at the end-of-season social gathering, silly prizes were distributed. My prize was a rag; given to me to represent all the time I spent on the floor, ducking to get away from that volleyball. They said, “As long as you’re down there, you might as well keep the floor dry for us.” Later in my life, I bought a bike. I took it for a ride. It was a scenic ride, through a wooded area, but it was totally downhill. I had the brakes on the entire time, gripping them with everything in my being. I have, now, moved the bike to three different homes, but haven’t gotten on it since. More years pass. I get older, weigh more (too much) so I decide to join a gym. Looking back on that early experience, I think that I must have assumed that just being in the gym was exercise enough because this was my routine…I took along my Kindle with my favorite book loaded, propped it up on the treadmill and started to walk, slowly enough so that 1) I could easily read my book and 2) I didn’t sweat. I wasn’t a fan of sweating. Well, needless to say, I never lost any weight or got any stronger. Instead, I grew tired of the trip to the gym just to read a book. So, you must be really wondering, now, why I have chosen this metaphor for myself today. It doesn’t seem to fit…at all!
I chose this metaphor because, I think, deep down we all want to be athletes and we want to be winners. This week, watching the NCAA Championship game gave me the opportunity to witness true, driving athleticism. It was a visible display of focus, intent, and power. I could tell that the skill didn’t come from wishes and hopes or weak attempts but, instead, from practice and determination to be the best and then more practice and more determination because you can always be better. In the end, my team didn’t win the game, but, oh yes, they did! They showed thousands of people what being an athlete really means. It means believing that you are a winner. It means, remaining humble and lighthearted when the pressure to succeed grows intense. It means staying focused on one goal at a time. It means never giving up. It means pushing yourself well past the point of tired. And, it means being proud of what you’ve accomplished, even if you don’t hold the “winning” trophy at the end. This team won our hearts. They were, indeed, true winners!
I think I’m finding that kind of winner in me!
What is your motivator? For me, the motivation, that finely pushed me, was frustration and anger. I was frustrated with the voices that said that I lacked coordination, was too weak, and too old to change. It made me angry when I heard those voices saying that I just needed to accept the fact that getting older means accepting weakness, aches, and pains as normal for my age. Frustration and anger became my motivation to put myself back in the game.
Today, I sweat through cardio exercises, push myself through squats, am working on the tightest abs I’ve had since I turned 40 and I lift weights, a little heavier each time. Initially, there was that voice saying, “You can’t do this!” but there was another, more positive voice saying “Yes, you can. Just try.” With a mix of feelings; frustration, surprise, joy…and pain, I realized that sweating can make you smile. Some days, I struggle more than others but that positive voice is there, saying “Just 5 more. You can do it…4, 3, 2…come on “I’ve got you.” And, when I finish, I am ecstatic! And that voice says, “You just burned through another level.”
Some days my muscles sing in pure pain but I hear those positive words ringing through loud and clear, “What doesn’t challenge you doesn’t change you.” So, again I smile. That’s why I think that, today, I can call myself an athlete. I’m not a mountain of muscle, but I’m growing stronger every day. I hurt, but so do others, and they still show up with determination and I can too! Some days, I’m slower, but I keep moving. This challenge is not a race. I’m not competing with anyone but me. And what’s most important is that I show up.
But, now, it’s about more that physical fitness. I want to be in this big game, called Life! So, I’ve added that to my goal. Pushing through exercises is preparing me to take whatever other burdens are placed on my shoulders and push through it. Life hands out some pretty heavy weights, at times, throwing you off balance, sometimes moving you to tears. But, if an athlete shows determination, focus, and drive, then that’s what I have to do. If an athlete is disappointed, even heartbroken, by a loss, they don’t quit, instead they review the loss for it’s lessons, and go out and play again and again. An athlete says “I am a winner”. A failure one day is just that, a failure one day. They don’t all of a sudden say “I am a failure.” They get up and try again. So, they never really lose. A score on the board (or on the scale) is just a number. I want to be the kind of winner who walks away, in the end, stinking with sweat but so damn proud of how well I played the game. Today, I am a winner. And I will push myself to keep saying that every day for the rest of my life. I must be an athlete!
Now, I’d better get up, out of this chair, and go for a walk. And, I should put air in those bicycle tires.
I had a dream. It woke me up: it was so upsetting.
I had won. He gave me one one-hundred dollar bill and rolls of quarters to equal four hundred more. I don’t question the logic in a dream! I put them all into a bag, along with a bottle of wine, and went off to a ball game. Again, don’t question. I tucked my winnings under my seat and started watching the game. After a while, I became complacent and wandered off to a back room where I turned my attention to scrapbooking some of my favorite photos.(Shh) I returned to the game, once, to make sure that my bag was still safely under my seat but then retreated to the back room again. My bag was safe, and the game was still going on as usual. It didn’t need my attention.
I was working away, with focus and joy on my project, when, all of a sudden, I realized that I no longer heard the crowd noise. Everything had become silent. When did that happen? I jumped up and ran towards the stadium seating only to discover that it had grown dark and I could no longer see where my seat was! My money, my bag of money! I needed to get that bag of money.
And then I woke up. Immediately, I reached for a notebook to write this down. This one was too intriguing to let go. I don’t remember or bother to write down the boring dreams.
While I am no dream analysis expert, I do enjoy trying to figure out the deep dark musings of my sleep mind. I mean, really, who has a dream where they win a bag of quarters? And then, carry it into a game with a bottle of wine?
Well, as I ponder the potential meaning of this ridiculous dream, I try to equate it with my current life circumstances. It’s got to be about something that I carried into bed with me the night before, right? And, no, I didn’t go to bed with a bag of money and a bottle of wine!
What I did go to bed with were thoughts of how quickly life changes from feeling as though things are happily humming along to, maybe, not.so.happily.humming.along. So, perhaps, there is a lesson tucked away in this dream. Let’s ponder that thought!
As luck would have it, today is Opening Day for baseball, here, and, it is also the day of the college basketball championship. The baseball game is the first of many. The fans will show up just to tailgate and celebrate this unofficial first day of spring. Now the basketball game, on the other hand, has even me staying up late to watch. This one is big. ON WISCONSIN!
Now, back to analyzing the dream.
I have never been a true sports fan. I go to baseball games to watch people and to my college football games to watch the half time show and participate in the fifth quarter. Even during national football games, you are just as likely to find me walking in the woods as watching the game. So that part of the dream is logical for me: go to the game, settle into a seat, then wonder off (mentally or physically, either one, to something else). It’s the part about winning a bag of money and just leaving it sitting under a seat that has me scratching my head. I mean, What is that about? Why a hundred dollar bill and rolls of quarters? When I think of quarters, I think of slot machines. Does this mean that I’m the kind of person who gambles with her money? Does it mean that I don’t care about money? And then, there’s the issue of the bottle of wine. First, how was I able to carry it into the game? Second, why? Third, and maybe most important, if I went to the trouble of carrying it in, why did I leave it under the seat instead of taking it back with me while I lingered over my photo life? And, fourth, how was it that, when I went running back to find my seat, I was only concerned about the bag of money and not the wine? Really? Maybe this means that having that glass of wine isn’t as important as I thought.
Ok, now seriously, let’s try to analyze this thing. Here’s what I come up with.
Life is a game, It’s a series of different events; each with their own beginning, middle, and end. I go into the game with a level of excitement, intrigue, anticipation, and lots of hopeful enthusiasm. Then, there’s a point where I wander off; seemingly not interested in the game going on in front of me and more interested in lingering over past memories (of previous games?). The bag of money, under the seat, seems like even if I win a game, I don’t necessarily covet the prize as much as I do the memories. The bottle of wine is a celebration tucked away for later. Then, when the current game comes to an end, as I know it will, I am surprised. Why? How many times will it take to understand that the rules never change. Everything comes to an end! Why do I always feel as though I am left in the dark, frantically running around trying to find my…self, again?
So, here I am now, thinking about how I have spent my life’s time; My Big Game. Am I winning or losing? Am I playing the game or have I wandered off spending too much time trying to turn my past into a scrapbooked work of art while today slips away?
That bag of money…my past winnings…am I celebrating my successes, am I proud of my achievements, or am I hiding them under a seat, thinking they are not as important as memories of my failures? And that silly bottle of wine. It’s taking up space in my bag. It seems to be nothing more than a burden to carry from place to place.
Here are my final, profound thoughts:
Dreams worth writing down are worth thinking about.
Life is a game.
You can’t win, at life, if you don’t put yourself in the game.
Remember, every game has a beginning, a middle, and an end.
I have an amazing collection of memories: funny and sad, good and bad, my very own scrapbooked work of art.
Now I just need to make sure that all of the memories show proof that it was a game well played.
Don’t linger too long over past wins and losses. Today is the only game that counts.
Now, GO BADGERS!