I've been waiting to write this, but it's been almost obnoxiously on my mind since January. There is never really a good reason why I don't just sit down and get my thoughts out. It could be the possibility that when the blank space begins to be filled that there is meaning attached to it, that there is permanence. In its filling I can't unwrite, unsay, unfeel, undo any of it. To write it for me is to name it, and naming it is the scariest part. When I name it, it comes to life and my soul is invested. When I name it, I am choosing to hold myself accountable to the reality of what is versus what I pretend isn't.

Just freaking do it already.

This year transitioning into 2018, I was having a hard time committing to goals for this year. We all know what it is like to move from December 31 to January 1 with good intentions, renewed motivation, and the belief that maybe, just maybe, we'll check off everything on our all too lofty list of resolutions. Or maybe that's just me...I know better than to speak for everyone.

Even still, I was filled with anticipation for 2018, eager for something new and making adjustments to keep challenging myself, being open to learning and growth. On our drive back to Seattle from Vancouver on New Year's Eve, TJ and I were talking about what we hoped for from this upcoming year, and we both came to the conclusion that we needed to "just freaking do it already", whatever "it" may be that day. (Yes, TJ and I got to be together on NYE and I was SO grateful!)

With many, many, many things over the past few years, in different ways TJ and I have individually felt stuck in the mud, slowly slogging through. There have been many wonderful things in the methodical movement and of course, really hard things as well. In our conversation in the car, it was as if someone was shaking us awake, pulling us out of the mud and setting us back on solid ground. The heavy, foggy, monotonous trudging abruptly ceased and was replaced with a lightness. We could move our feet again and it was practically effortless.

"Why do we keep making excuses?"

"I don't know, but I'm tired of it."

"Me too."

"I just want to start doing things."

"Me too!"

"Why don't we? Why don't we just start doing them?"

"Yeah, 2018--just freaking do it already!"

And that was how my 2018 New Year's resolution was born.

TJ left on January 1 for California to launch the huge project he had been working on, and that week I freaking did it.

I went to yoga.
I went on long walks, even in the rain.
I caught up with people.
I started work off with determination and energy.
I ran.
I read a whole book (which is a big deal for me since I don't take time to read).
And I even bought tap shoes and took up tap dancing again, making the decision in one day and actually following through with it.

2018, you're mine.
Well, so I thought.

During that first week one of the yoga classes I went to was restorative. It is a very slow class focused on staying in resting poses longer to work on stretching, flexibility, and giving ease to tension in the body. Something that the instructor shared at the start of class and kept bringing up as a reminder throughout our hour together was the idea of "begin again". He shared that in holding these poses for a long time we may find that we have to adjust or even come out of the pose completely. "What is important," he shared, "is that you begin again."

In its faithfulness as a well intended new year hope, that first week of fullness and motivation dwindled and quickly got stifled out by, well, life to be honest. Life happened in its truest form: confusion, disappointment, exhaustion, uncertainty, heartache, mixed with moments of goodness; but the other stuff started to once again flood around my feet, turning the lightness to heaviness, from walking through air to trudging through mud.

"Begin again."

It was burning in my mind. And as hard as it was to have the reminder looming, I believe that it has brought me a little extra hope, and a lot of extra grace.

Maybe it didn't happen today. But tomorrow. Begin again.

Maybe it rained today. But tomorrow. Begin again.

Maybe it was a missed opportunity today. But tomorrow. Begin again.

Maybe it was failure. Maybe it was fear. But tomorrow.

You know what? Not even tomorrow. Right now. Right now whatever "it" was is in the past. In this moment, this minute, this second, begin again.

The world we live in is filled with cycles. It points to renewal to another chance to jumping back in instead of giving up and walking away.

Look around you. Have you seen the trees or the flowers? The blossoms are forming and the buds are sprouting. Spring is just around the corner and the 70 degree weather in Seattle today was evidence of that. And tomorrow? Well, tomorrow it is going to rain. I could dwell on what was or complain about what is...

...or I can acknowledge all of it, name it, fill the blank space with it, and begin again. There is no beginning without an end, but all of it is a part of the story, the wild journey--it beckons, and forgives.

Just freaking do it already.

And when you don't, begin again.