Stretching

 As I was stretching this morning, i came to a few conclusions. My mind and body are not where I’d like them to be. My mind and body needing watering and pruning daily. Missing a day is not optional. I’ve striving too much for an answer. Would I like God to just deliver like Domino’s Pizza. I sure would. It doesn’t happen that way. What if there was a satisfaction guarantee for those who wait. My therapist suggested that instead of worrying about what I write, just write. Write because it makes you happy. Write because the frustration has somewhere to go. Write because it’s what you do. 

The point is to have fun. Even if the finished product is crappy. The fact is you didn’t delete your thoughts. You let them stand. It is proof that what is shared is your heart. Raw and unfiltered. You’re job as a writer isn’t to paint a picture full of rosy fluff, but truth that isn’t crude or rude. It’s as honest as you can be without revealing your innermost fears. The ones you share with God and me. 

I need you to see that glass houses can only shield us for so long. The lies we tell ourselves will shatter faster than the cup that slips from fingertips. Growth is that acknowledging that acceptance is a daily activity. Acceptance isn’t a permanent gift, but a daily practice that is practiced daily. Acceptance isn’t finding or placing blame. It’s a learning curve. 

Life is not mastered or something to be mastered. Life isn’t a game to win. Life is what it is. It is a process of gratitude for opening eyeballs to start the journey once again. 

So honestly, I’m writing right now to keep putting words to paper, and let them sit there. Whether I like what I’ve written. Writing to restore joy to creating what is in this hard head.