Groundhog day

On Wednesday, my husband made the fatal error of waking up and saying, “here we go again, groundhog day.” The error had been more accurately running out of coffee the day before, so by Wednesday morning, I was 24 hours into withdrawal from an addiction I hadn’t realised the real depth of. Head ache, and a jangly kind of energy that turned an innocuous observation (wow, these COVID days sure do run into each other) into the trigger of a nuclear level meltdown. Evidently, I needed a good rant slash cry. Or caffeine. Or both.

Having released, recaffeinated and recovered, I was struck by this graphic, shared by Graham Turner on Thursday. Progress can be barely perceptible. From most angles. I was feeling that on Wednesday – is there any point at all to the yoga, the meditating, the slow incremental practices, it all feels like so much bullshit and tricking myself into believing that I’m supported by the Great Wahoo of the universe, when mostly, all I’m likely doing is treading water. But if you just shift perspectives, you get a glimpse, oh… you are making progress. You aren’t just going around and around and around. It’s been a long pandemic-year, and in a lot of ways, I feel as though I’ve gone nowhere, done nothing, made no progress at all. But that’s not true… I’m transforming, as we are every single day of our lives… Over time, we’ll make out how far we’ve travelled.

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