Here

Vivian: "Baby, I'm going to treat you so nice you're never going to want to let me go."
Edward: "3000, for six days, and Vivian I will let you go."
Vivian: "But I'm here now."

-          Pretty Woman

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Pretty Woman, but as I lay in bed this morning, inert and happy in the morning sun, Julia Roberts’ young, dreamy face came to mind. She has just been told that her days of indulgence are numbered -- that there will be an end and return to her less than ideal life-- but that doesn’t deter her from enjoying and delighting the moment. So, not quite ready to get out of bed and end my sleepy bliss, I chose to pull myself back from everything that awaited me and snuggle down into my cocoon for just a little longer. 

There is something quite yet so profoundly sensual about living in the here and now. It makes sense when you are enjoying what we are doing. Yet, even if what we sense isn’t the most positive of experiences, it reminds us that we are alive. I, like most, try to distract myself when I’m going through a less than pleasant experience. But on the occasion I’ve sunken in and allowed myself to be, to feel, to live every inch of what it had to offer, I have found the sensation an affirmation of my existence. It reminds me that life is about not just the good. It has helped the lessons I learn to stick. It has helped me change where I need to. Or maybe just realize that even in the pain there is unexpected pleasure.

Mind Interrupted

I’m an overthinker. I can talk myself into or out of (more the latter) virtually anything. I will be on a way to an event and have second thoughts about going. I’ll be on a date and have a continuous internal debate on how, when and where it will end up. I’ve been known to sign up for a class on an impulse only to figure out a dozen reasons why I don’t want to or can’t go. I can talk myself into feeling too tired, too sad, too sore, or too bored. I’m not sure why, but it’s epidemic throughout my life. 

This week, there have been a few instances that have stood out to me in their dissonance with my usual routine. Times where I just went for it. In dance class, our instructor showed us a rather complicated move. Usually, I would wait for a few girls to go ahead of me before attempting it myself. This time, I went first. Before my mind had time to tell me I couldn’t or analyze each move. And I surprised myself. Next move, I tried the same thing and surprised myself again. In the following days, I attended a poetry reading downtown on the fringes of my normal weekday bedtime, jumped into cold water without a backwards glance and took child’s pose in yoga because I needed a break. Instead of agonizing, I just did.

Our minds have a way of making even the simplest of tasks more difficult. They mean well. They try to keep us safe. And because they do a pretty good job, we tend listen. The more attentively we listen, the drunker they get off their power. They tell us we can’t when our hearts know we can. They fool us into thinking we are smaller than we are. Something inside us cries out when we know they’re wrong and they waste vast amounts of energy to quell us. We end up feeling conflicted and drained. 

I know my brain is smart, but I believe my heart is wise. If I’m going to live this year with an open heart, I’m going to do more. Before my mind has time to interrupt.