All posts filed under: overcoming internal resistance

leap into the start of something

get started with me

The main obstacle I face in getting started on something (and maybe this is just me here, but bear with me) is the feeling that so much [time has gone by, or back-log has accumulated, or stands in my way] that there is no point starting now.  If only I had been disciplined enough to be handling it all along, or at least to have started earlier, then maybe…. I can feel this way any old time, but without a doubt I feel it round about the 9th of January every year.  “I Guess That Ship Has Sailed” Day, let’s call it.  The day when you realize that it’s more than a week into the new year and the green-juice/exercise/file-a-pile/clean the sink/stretch more/bitch less/write in my journal every day plan is already showing definite signs of weakness in its struts. Or maybe it has a misplaced ignition key. A wise therapist said to me once, OK, so let’s pretend this is a friend who has come to you to say this (instead of just, you …

lemon roasted Brussels sprouts

what dreams may come

Don’t blame the river that nothing happened quickly. –Mary Oliver*  About fifteen years ago, I started taking a keen interest in a plot of land near our house that had once served as the county fairgrounds.  It had fallen into disuse and disrepair over the years, and ping-ponged from owner to owner, each one as convinced as the last that some profit could be wrung from the land by their hands, even though the jokers before them hadn’t cracked that nut. It’s a quirky spot.  It’s called “hundred year floodplain,” but I’ve seen it like this at least three times in my life.  There are days when I feel like I am three hundred years old, but I know that I am not.  That’s not a lake, by the way.  That’s the parking lot. It’s land, to my eyes, that resists profit-making of the traditional variety.  Actively, by retreating under water periodically.  Its historical use as the home of the agricultural fair rings pretty loudly. So does the fact that agriculture has drifted from the …

chocolate chia pudding

another seedy affair

Here’s a funny thing.  I was just about to write a post about seedy pudding and stress.  I’ve just received an urgent fax from down in the research department, letting me know that I have already done that, with this post right here.  There are no new ideas under my sun.  Everything I said there about stress and the temple of the body: still think that.  But at least this is a new pudding. There was an article a couple of weeks ago in a venerable newspaper about the health benefits of chia seeds.  This is the same venerable newspaper that is so concerned with veracity that it published the following correction: Correction: October 19, 2012 An earlier version of this article described incorrectly a beverage that Ahmed Abu Khattala was drinking at a hotel in Benghazi, Libya. It was a strawberry frappe, not mango juice, which is what he had ordered. It now reads: “But just days after President Obama reasserted his vow to bring those responsible to justice, Mr. Abu Khattala spent two leisurely hours …