If 25 was breathless, 26 can only be described as Truly Bizarre thus far.
So. On Wednesday, I hopped on a plane to Atlanta and spent the next hour pouring my heart out on paper to the tune of five pages that are never going to see the light of day. It was weird and winding and hard and cathartic all at once. And in that moment, with a glass of wine in hand it felt so very good to be able to work through All Of It.
All of it.
Centered around the idea that This Is Not Your Practice Life. Which happens to be a sign that a friend saw at Mile 23 of the Chicago Marathon.
When I first heard about this, This Is Not Your Practice Life, I gave it little more than a passing thought. This is after all, life lived in 140 characters or less. Bird-fed, bite-sized chunks that are designed for easy, mass consumption.
But daily, I returned to it. As it transformed from a whisper into a roar.
It probably does not help that I’ve just started reading Brené Brown’s The Gifts of Imperfection.
Which is to say that I want to breathe a life into this idea. I want to spend more time with it than one post will allow.
It is not a weeklong series, it does not involve goal setting or any particular brand of self betterment and enlightenment. This is not A Journey. We are not going anywhere.
But it is A Process. A rhythm. An unraveling. It is hard to know where the end of the thread will fall.
And so, without the end in mind, we begin.