detox

Why is it we go on vacation, we feel lovely, we remember who we are and how we want to be. Then it's a relief to be home. We missed things and face them with fresh perspective. But we're grooved and ridged. The rivulets hardened from the trickles of life that add up and can't be altered. And we revert back.

On my drive home from the retreat, my thoughts went to this. How can I preserve the detox? How can I stay uncovered from the layers I just worked to remove? How do I bend the will of my life to jump the ruts and meet the new me rather than me snapping back into place?

I had the notion of a micro-moment. We can't retreat all the time. (boo) But maybe I can facilitate micro-moments that recreate the experiences and feelings. Something that re-pins the corners and reminds the rubber band of my new preferred shape.

Sure my house is a mess, and my body is a mess, and my life is a mess, and that all has to be unmessed. But what if the needed energy comes from bringing micro-moments into my life so I keep putting a little gas in the tank. Because the majority of days I'm on fumes. I drove out to the retreat with smoke flowing from the hood and barely a put-put-put to the doorstep.

That said, I spent the drive up happy knowing where I was headed, listening to the radio, bellowing to songs, scanning frequencies as I traversed antennae ranges looking for something in English that didn't have an oompa beat. Like the smoke from the engine, the music was a smokescreen for the truth: I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts for 3 hours.

Despite the happy, the drive felt long going up. My back tired. The scenery repetitive (as much as I have love for the ag side of this state). 

A friend said the drive home would feel faster. And it was. Because I had company this time and I didn't tune her out with the radio. I discovered she was worth listening to.

Perhaps that's where it starts...