Waiting to start something while waiting for Richard to go to town just means I wait. No reason why I can't start while he's still here but isn't that often the case? Everything must be just right before doing something I want to do - which is just another form of procrastination. Waiting for the right weather, atmosphere, time, environment, mood, tools, whatever the reason for procrastination just means more procrastination.
So what is scary about diving right in? I think it's fear of not doing something perfectly. I've never done anything perfectly my entire life - except live. Every day I wake up, I'm alive and breathing, even standing and moving, and that's perfection. If I wasn't living my life perfectly I'd be dead. But that's a rather extreme view. My more usual viewpoint is unless I can draw the perfect picture, write the perfect blog, train the perfect horse, it's not worth doing. Well, it is or I wouldn't keep trying but there's this underlying current of guilt because I'm never quite good enough.
Not unusual, eh? Where did we get this obsession for perfection? Wish I could blame my parents, it would be so easy but while they encouraged they did not browbeat.
At the same time as being paralyzed by perfectionism I am quite content to do things half arsed, to have the mind set that an attempt is as good as realization.
What both these mindsets lead to is guilt which also paralyzes. Better to do nothing at all than attempt anything that might be a little difficult. Not only is there the guilt but this mental white noise; perfectionism warring with why bother, guilt with ego (and I've plenty of that!), energy with sloth. What a mess. No wonder I, along with so many others, finally get ill (my current back challenge) with it. We've got the brakes on while flooring the accelerator.
Added to that are the many good things I feel I ought to be doing to be kind to myself; yoga, meditation, walking, painting, loving others, loving myself, being out in nature, eating well which means taking the time to cook from scratch, educating (French), reading non-fiction, the list goes on. All this stuff under the direction of my inner tutor/mother/friend. And where am I in all this? Usually playing Mah Jong.
What's that thing animals (and people) do when they are torn between two different desires? Displacement behaviour. Grooming, licking, Mah Jong playing.
So have I got the answer? Of course not. I'm a messy, lazy, conflicted, guilt-ridden, arrogant, courageous, cowardly, high energy, loving, loathing, collection of days. Out of it comes a life. Maybe that's all it is. If life was a perfect sail from A to B on a calm sea with no storms I'd fall asleep (die) fairly soon. I don't have the answers. I don't know what tomorrow will bring or how I'll handle it so I keep getting out of bed to find out.
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