Getting off the treadmill

My life functions at a relatively fast pace.  It is not unusual for me to start my day with 7 am yoga, work all day, dinner break, evening meeting or rehearsal, fall into bed. I have friends whose lives function even faster--a friend who has had his furniture in storage for 10 years because he travels so much for work; a friend who still pulls "all nighters" to get work done.

We are a little bit crazy.  Maybe more than a little bit. It is also exhilarating to live fully, to be engaged in one's community or profession.  It is also satisfying to mentor others.

And from time to time, we have the conversation.  It goes something like this: "yeah, one of these days, I should maybe settle down.  Maybe move out of the city. Get a farm. Buy some goats."

I should write a related post about the time I decided to take the goats, on leash, for a run, and my subsequent injuries.  Note the absence of leashes in the photo.  There is some nice symbolism for 'letting go of control' here.

If I were to make a movie of my life, I'd have to include an episode from a few years back when I was running on a treadmill. I was jogging along at a good pace when I mis-stepped and was conveyed at a high speed toward the back wall of the exercise room.  I wasn't hurt, but I felt deeply embarrassed.

This is turning out to be a blog post about the fear of looking ridiculous, plus the fear of actually getting hurt.  My point: Transitions.  Transitions can be awkward, scary. But to live authentically, sustainably, well, and in balance, we need to make the transition through different paces.