The times you’re disappointed with yourself are never the times you are surprised by yourself.
April fool’s day just passed. It’s a time to hide behind a corner and surprise someone.
Boo! Got you!
It’s easy to fall into the rhythm of all the usual things. I know what to expect; there are very few surprises left. Maybe I’m not even looking for surprising. I’ve got my rhythm now.
I’m not always happy when someone else fools me.
But I will try to fool myself. My husband is not happy that I have the bedside clock some random number of minutes ahead of the real time, to fool myself into thinking I have more time than I do—that I still have enough time to be early. I’m trying to make room in my life for me to be better than I have been.
It’s such a wonderful feeling, to be better. It takes so long though. It takes a lot of lifting heavy things and putting them back down again. And again. And again.
Until one day I find that the heavy thing is seemingly lighter. Hooray!
I could be happy and rest in the delight of my new skill. But if I want to experience that delight again, I must go find a new heavier thing and start lifting that one.
I might not. I often forget to add the weight.
Challenging myself is and endless struggle and ironically and endless delight. I will never be done. Lileks said it up there, I will not be surprised if I don’t manage to keep at it. It’s the easiest thing in life to stop.
I don’t like the taste of disappointment. That’s what keeps me at the grind. I want to get that bit extra. So I feel like I am extra—or at least have a change of becoming so.
That thing I’m trying to be. It’s sitting right there. I only have to pick it up.