Sometimes you know it's better not to say anything. Sometimes you know you will triumph if you keep quiet. Yet the expression--gagged by understanding so well what is happening yet knowing your own unique perspective and feelings--waits and longs for a home.
I'm not a toddler, so I can't pull down my pants, scream until my face is red, break things and pitch a fit either. It's really just not the thing to do at 41.
So what to do?!?!
These days, I am at a bnb with a punching bag and gloves hanging from the living room ceiling. Today, I was laying almost catatonic on the couch, staring at it, tired from a round of jetlagged thinking.
I got up, pulled the gloves down and put them on. It felt like I was born wearing them. And with that, in a matter of ten minutes, I found every martial arts move I had practiced for years in my late teens, early 20s. Every punching technique, side kick, reverse roundhouse, double punch and electric lightening sensation that ever coursed through my veins. All of them enhanced through years of yoga and improved flexibility, presence and strength.
Voila!! Now I know why Angelina Jolie throws knives at targets when she is frustrated. Outlets. Where power surges take aim and hit their marks.
My friends: I'm going out side to enjoy this place. It's going to be a great day, and there are NO coincidences.