I'm okay

I am in process

I experienced my first official accident yesterday. I have had a few run-ins with animals in the past including a couple of dear running into my car, hitting a raccoon, and a very unfortunate incident with a chicken, but I had never collided with another vehicle. Yesterday I was riding up towards the mountain from campus when a car in the oncoming lane turned left in front of me. I always drive my motorcycle under the assumption that I am invisible and everyone is trying to hit me, but the timing of the turn left me no alternatives for escape. I struck the front fender of the car and flew off my bike. 

When I sat up from where I landed in the road I did a quick body scan to see if I was alright. I probably flew 10 or 20 feet and although I could tell I was experiencing an adrenaline dump unlike anything I had experienced before nothing seemed to be broken or bleeding. I think my leg caught the car or my handlebars as I flew off and there is a bruise on my thigh but I think I did a barrel roll across my shoulder as I landed and I am otherwise unscathed. I was wearing a helmet and full leathers but I could not see any scratches or damage to those either. After I got my bike off the road and sat down I then assessed the damage to the bike. I think that given the situation the damage to the bike was as minimal as possible, but it is highly likely that the bike is totaled. 

Unquestionably my good health is the most important outcome to what occurred. (I think I either have the reflexes and agility of a jungle cat as I flew through the air or perhaps a few attending angels helped me down gently) Along with that gratitude for being okay, I also have to recognize that I am already experiencing the mourning process with what happened. I have learned a variety of lessons through that bike over the past year, many of which I have written about here: moving forward, crisis, don't stop the journey, breakdown , breaktime, I like to go fast, fog lights, and heads up.  Those  lessons will stay with me, but I would be untrue to myself if I did not recognize how sad the potential loss makes me. 

Through all of the paperwork, police reports, tow trucks and discussions of what happened last night I have felt relatively calm and grateful to be physically whole. Emotionally it has been messy. I have felt some fear, frustration, gratitude, compassion, and I can also pick out some specific pieces of the grieving process such as moments of depression, anger, denial and bargaining. I can sense at times that I am at trying to rush myself towards acceptance. I want to see the lessons and opportunities that this experience is going to provide without having to go through all of the pain associated with it. It is not something I can rush, dodge, or ignore. 

I am in process. In my grieving, my growth, my pain, my successes and struggles. Surrendering to that process and accepting it is where I can find serenity and peace among all of the messiness. I am okay just where I am. 

Trikonasana part 2

I am letting go of expectations

After focusing yesterday on fully committing I decided to go back to do another yoga session today. I felt more motivated and positive heading into the practice because I was committed to give my full effort. However, before the 90 minutes had even begun I started to think ahead. I worried about how my body would respond, if I would be able to hold the poses throughout, or if I would get dizzy again and have to take a break. After writing about fully committing and how much I dread triangle pose I had better do it this time!

Instead of being present in the moment I was building a mountain of expectations for me to climb. When I create a set of expectations I undermine my ability to be in the now and I set myself up for disappointment. Expectations create an arbitrary measuring stick that can determine wether I feel happy and successful, or disappointed and failure. This does not mean that I should give up trying to do my best, but rather that I surrender the need to control the outcomes. For example, if I set an expectation in my yoga practice that I should be able to go deeper into each pose than last time I might ignore where my body is and push it into strain or injury. Expectations ignore where I am at, and tell me only where I should be. Even when I have fully committed and given my very best, an unmet expectation tells me that I am not enough. 

When I am fully committed to a task and willing to give my full effort I can be okay with whatever the outcome is. Dropping expectations stops me from shoulding all over myself and others. It helps me to focus more on the process instead of the product.  Today I will let go of expectations and realize that my best effort is always enough. 

Road trip

I approach life with patience

Last year we took our 2 oldest children to Disneyland.  It was decided that we would split the drive to California over 2 days, but that no mention of the happiest place on earth would be made until after we had arrived.  At first it was tough to dodge some of the frequent questions about where we were going, but it was much better than 11 hours of, "are we there yet?"  My girls' enthusiasm always trumps their ability to be patient and present in the moment.  In that same sense I am often guilty of impatience with myself when considering my growth process. 

I am not where I want to be...yet. It does not matter that I have not reached my destination. I am exactly where I need to be right now.  Even when I do reach a goal, I may see that I still have further to go in refining the vision I have for myself.

The product of my hopes is only relevant in its' ability to help me chart my course. From that point my task is not to lament the distance I have yet to travel, but to set myself in motion and patiently persevere. My focus is to take a single conscious breath, and then another. To take one step in faith, and then another.  In so doing I patiently embrace the process of living.

Process > Product

I am patient and accepting of myself and others

I grew up in a small rural community and our house was on 5 acres of land.  My dad loved to garden and used as much of our land as could be managed to grow a variety of crops.  It seemed closer to small scale farming than what most people would consider a normal garden.  I remember many summer mornings weeding row after row of corn feeling like a chain-gang prisoner and I would swear to myself that when I was older I would NEVER have a garden.

Not only do I have a garden but for the last several years I've spent countless hours cutting back a jungle of Pfitzer bushes and hauling off truck load after truck load of branches and roots to make more gardening space.  Although I still don't necessarily enjoy weeding, gardening has a tendency to teach me things and help me connect with myself, nature and my Higher Power.

I am often impatient with myself and others.  In particular if I have something I am trying to change, learn, or improve on, I often want to just get there as quickly as possible.  I don't appreciate the difficulty of the process and focus far too much on the product.  When I reject myself and focus on what I am not, rather than accepting where I am in the process I undermine my own growth.  It creates unreal expectations and distorts how I see things.  When I am patient and understand life as a process of growth and not some race to a finished product I see the world as it should be; full of the various stages of life, beauty and imperfection.

When I garden I do not despise the seed that has not yet begun to flower or bear fruit, just as I should not judge myself and others who are still in the process of growing and blooming. The process is what is important and I will accept myself wherever I am in that journey.  Patiently I will continue to grow and learn.