Home alone on a Saturday night

Weightlifting bar on an orange foam mat in front of a white wall
Bought a new weightlifting bar for the garage.

Got caught in thought space today.

Ideas galore, activities here and there, actions minimal, lots of standing around watching not enough touching.

Like the guy with a crush on a girl but never says anything.

So I took a step outside thought space.

And found gravity.

Twenty minutes of movement turned into thirty into forty.

A simple routine, bicep curls, overhead press, pushups, squats, lunges.

Ten, ten, ten, ten one minute rest.

Now I feel like a God.

I could snap this table in half.

But I won’t.

I like it too much.

I feel the blood running through my muscles through my chest through my arms down my fingers and onto the keys.

Trying to do something all day I don’t yet have the skills for.

But I will.

I will soon.

How can I expect to have any kind of insight without the discipline to build skill first?

Skill makes the experience sweeter.

Any good teacher ensures the student falls in love the craft first.

A love of the art gets you through days when it’s difficult.

Learning becomes like putting up a sail versus rowing a boat.

Using magic rather than straining.

I strained today.

Too much effort.

Trying to force.

Never force.

The weights remind me.

They move when I move.

When I force them my body hurts.

When I force learning or creating my mind hurts.

Two sides of the same coin.

Now I’ve moved, got the blood flowing, I’ve found the cure.

Solved my thought space problem with reality space.

Gravity is one of my best teachers.

I never see it trying or gloating.

It moves like water, perhaps a little less elegant but far more aloof.

When I wake up, it’s there.

When I go to sleep, it’s there.

When I forget it’s there, it’s still there.

I bow down and feel it.

I get up and feel it.

I say thank you.

Thank you great force.

Thank you for holding me down.

Thank you for setting me free.

A constant reminder.

When I’m stuck in my head to move my feet.

When the code won’t flow, let blood take its place.

When the words are tied up, get dancing.

All this seriousness?

What for!

Laugh it off.

And let the cycle start again.

The Buddhists call it samsara.

I call it fun.