Monday, April 23, 2012
I've decided I hate process.
If you wanna know the truth I just want to go to sleep and wake up with a chip in my brain that would produce all the changes I'd like to see. (If you know of something like that shoot me an email.) I'd wake up and I'd be a luminous new woman who embraces all things good and healthy. I'd eat only what is nourishing in exactly the right portions except when it is hospitable to taste a little of a friend's homemade cookies that are still warm out of the oven. I'd exercise religiously in ways that transform my saggy 50-year-old body into that of a wise and adventurous 35-year-old athelete. I'd remind you of Jane Fonda in her prime, but without all the annoying political spewing and sanctimonious lectures. I'd attend to my emotions and my spirit in ways that open doors to unlimited peace and happiness sort of like a kindly monk in comfortable shoes who always has a goofy smile on his face. I'd order my life perfectly and care for myself and everyone around me like Mother Teresa on steroids. I'd write words regularly that make you want to laugh and cry and start all over again with my brilliant and funny insights. I'd remind you of Anne Lamott without the history of drug and alcohol abuse (so of course I would never be exactly like her and you'd be just a little sad about that and it would confuse you that you wish I had been on a bunch of meth binges and then came to my senses.)
Of course, none of you would want to hang out with me anymore because you'd secretly resent me and hope that I fall into a hole on one of my prayer walks. But that's a small price to pay, right?
I wish I was more disciplined and wise. I'm just not. I'll start some wonderful project with all kinds of energy and hope and then I'll poop out after about three hours. It's more than a little bit discouraging.
Here's the big problem: I don't take myself seriously. Or at least I don't take the laws of physics seriously. (entropy schmentropy, gravity schmavity) I don't honestly buy that actions have consequences and that gobs of peanut M&M's end up as flab. (How could something that good and lovely and yummy be bad?) I live my life as though I will live forever and always have a tomorrow to get it right. But that's not really true, is it? (Is it?)
I've been having a hard time motivating myself to do much of anything lately. It's not that I'm depressed, exactly. I'm just tired all the time and it feels like too much trouble to plan or type or get up off the couch. My one saving grace is Saturday morning breakfast. No matter how slovenly I feel I somehow manage to shop and clean and cook for my lovely family whenever it's humanly possible. Maybe I should treat everything like family breakfast. Hmmmmmm.
Anyway, there it is.
I sure hope Jesus is as sweet and forgiving as he seems. I'm gonna need that.