100: Metaphorical Free Falling
100: Metaphorical Free Falling
05.04.2018
Okay. This is the situation. I’m doing 100 things that are out of my comfort zone, because… honestly? I believe in the power of making yourself uncomfortable. There. That’s a thing now.
I’m doing this because I noticed that over the past 2-3 years I’ve gotten very stuck in my own head, causing for all kinds of delightful side effects. I feel like chucking myself into 100 metaphorical ice baths will shock my brain/myself into either; a state of slight madness, or a more ‘well balanced me’ juggling introspection and actually just living in an equal way.
For the first of a hundred, I’ve kind of cheated, because this is something I did a while back…but you know what, you didn’t write the rules…I did, so deal with it I guess…
Number 100: Metaphorical free falling
It feels a bit like free-falling. I can’t quite describe it. There’s an occasional second where I feel in control, and then, I realise that what felt like a parachute of control, actually was a dodgy Tesco’s bag, flinging around in the sheer velocity of life’s flow...
So I recently did the thing that all early aged characters do in the incredibly cheesy movies you pretend to not watch and love - but actually, end up being your go to’s for those Saturday nights you were ‘supposed’ to be meeting up with ‘friends’ but they all cancelled on you…too specific?
Anyway, what I’m obviously referring to is; living in the middle of nowhere for so long, that I went a bit wonky, had a tidbit of a breakdown (I won't go into the finery’s), got a bit tipsy, cut my own hair with tiny, but sharp, scissors and then radically decided I should move to ‘the big city’, because that will solve all my issues. You know…the usual.
And so here I am. I did that thing; got on that train; stumbled with those poorly packed bags; stayed with those friends; got that part-time job; cried in that train station; thought of cowering back home; kept on going; got that full-time job; got that place to stay; left that part-time job….and here I am, shocked by the stillness of stability.
It's like when you're in that yoga class, and you're doing whatever the name is for the one-legged pose…your wobbling and wobbling, you nearly fall on your neighbour and then do that polite eye-roll that’s meant to say “Duuuh look at me being a flimsy so and so” after which you hesitantly get back into position and suddenly your doing it… you feel still and grounded, it almost feels effortless - with the gentle humming of your straining muscles carefully reminding you that there is a lot of work going into keeping you there. It feels like if I were to lose focus the wobbling would overwhelmingly come back, which in a way is slightly scary, but in so many other ways is the whole reason why I love this state of being. It’s the adrenaline and work that makes me want to do it, again and again, no matter how wobbly, or awkward I look. I guess that's just a 'young person' thing.
I think one thing that I learned from just chucking myself into life a few months back was that it’s incredibly okay to be wobbly, and also incredibly okay to be still. I got taught the power of focus and how powerful a tool it truly is - it seems to function a lot like an anchor to a boat on a rough sea (or calm), no matter how much your clash-banging about clumsily, your anchor (focus) seems to always keep you vaguely where you need to be.
Anyway, enough of me banging on about jumping into life, I still don't know how to end these posts, so I'm just going to run away from the keyboard and continue semi-stably flinging around life.
