I entered the elevator, pressed -7 and went down seven floors. It took me a while to actually descend. I could see my body go down, but I wasn’t there myself. I mean my brain, my consciousness were still up at 0. I tried again, and again, until it worked. Finally I descended, all of me. Slowly, going down to -7.
Tag: self-care
Yoga for perfectionists
If you are a perfectionist and have attempted taking up yoga, you might have run into a road block just like I have. My original idea was, of course, to learn how to let go, how to just be in the present moment, to accept reality exactly as it is. That’s what perfectionists need to learn and what yoga promises (besides the perfect body). This is until you find out that perfectionism is also precisely what stands in the way of escaping from perfectionism through yoga.
How is your inner garden?
I never had a green thumb. In fact, I never had a garden. Just houseplants. And few of them, for that matter. The maximum number of plants I ever managed to keep alive for more than a face-saving period of time, until recently, was five: a banana tree, a schefflera, a basil plant, a ficus and an orange tree, god bless them. Until last year that was.
My playfulness tag size sucks
After I published my last post on cracks my eyes fell on my tag cloud and it suddenly struck me that all tags standing out proud and tall were, well, quite depressing. Pain, past, and perfectionism had risen to very impressive sizes. Playfulness, fun and silliness, in contrast, had shrunk to tiny blobs of writing, hardly recognizable amidst the forest of life’s hardships. Then again, tag clouds are a very honest reflection of what we spend our focus and energy on. Can’t fool a tag cloud. Hmm…
There is a crack in everything
For a very long time I’ve been carrying around the heavy weight of my past, a story of childhood hurts that I kept telling myself over and over again until it defined me. My dented trust in life’s innate beauty, my need to control and improve whatever and whoever was around me, my lack of playfulness, as it turns out, were once needed ways to ring-fence my vulnerable core from the heavy storms of life. I had become resilient, or at least I thought so.
