Resistance

I am an expert at recognizing my resistance. When it crawls wetly onto my lap from the briny deep of my soul I stare at it a moment and then hum tunelessly. I don’t hear you, I don’t see you, let me alone, leave me be. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, Resistance perched pertly atop my head with a Cheshire grin. Fine. You win.

I am writing.

Not-writing.

I feel Resistance in the act of Googling. Now I know that Ganesh is associated with the first chakra, called Muladhara, and that mula means “original, main,” and adhara means “foundation.” Great. I needed to know that. I feel complete now. There is recent relevance to this information and Resistance tells me, Go ahead and write a nice little email explaining that bit, and then I realize I’ve walked into the trap again. Not writing.

Google was invented for people who Resist.

My mother, inching ever closer to a permanently childlike state, used to called it Procrastinating. For her it looked and tasted a lot like making chocolate chip cookies, but we all knew it was more that there was something she didn’t want to do. Resistance.

I tell people that resistance is an invitation to look more deeply within. Great. I’m not-writing about a not-something that I can’t yet see. It all comes clear now. Thanks. I look within and see the Cheshire smile beckoning. I can find a million things to do other than write. Breathing, for example. Did you know that most of us fail to place adequate attention on our breath? We breathe shallowly. I should spend the next hour, or perhaps the next month for good measure, breathing. Just to be sure.

Okay. Deep breath in. Tomorrow it’s Morning Pages. Pinkie swear. Let’s see what’s inside.