Pummeled

     I have been pummeled lately with messages of, "You can't get where you want to go because you are stuck - and to be unstuck you must play".  I use the word pummeled because it feels like I have been getting a pummeling!  WTF!  And don't laugh.  For a variety of reasons, some understood by me and some that are not, I don't know how to play.  Perhaps it's because I had a screwed up, rather confusing childhood where having fun was always laced with something sinister and ever threatening.  It's hard to truly play when one cannot completely let down one's guard.  

     And maybe it's because I have gotten very old in the last few years.  I never use the word "old" or think of myself as old.  I believe that age is a state of mind.  It is clear to me that zest for life has NOTHING to do with age.  I do what I want and live to the fullest... but no.  That went away somewhere along the line.  How and why did that happen?  More importantly, can I get it back?

     So, I don't scold the Spirits when they tell me to play.  In all fairness, they are being gentle and loving.  Damn it!  It's so hard to rail against them when I know deep down that they are right.  And kind.  So why does it freak me out so much to even consider play?  And what does that mean anyway?  

     I was sitting with a new group of friends yesterday and the subject came up.  And I mean the whole picture.  Me being stuck and needing to play, and feeling like I haven't a clue how to go about it.  So we came up with some ideas and they challenged me to report back to them.  What?  Accountability?  Who are these people?  I think I could really get to like them.  

     Well this morning, like a good girl, I intended to job hunt.  (Did I mention I am job hunting? ...  heavy sigh)  Well, in my morning mediation I am told to bag the hunt and go buy a coloring book instead.  As if my life isn't weird enough.  And colored pens.  Did I mention the colored pens?  So, off to Barns and Noble I go.  And since I was attempting the fun thing, I got a soy late and apple tart.  And I didn't even say no when I was asked if I wanted it heated.  Nor did I say no when they said, "Whipped cream?"  "Carmel swirl?"  

     Apparently, this is what fun looks like.  Mind you, I opened my new, sharpened, beautiful pens and colored.  Right there in Barns and Noble for all to see!  Don't tell anyone, but I found myself ginning as I got the colors just right.  There is a bit of an artist dwelling inside of me, if truth be told.  I won't say the experience was without anxiety.  But it did feel...decadent.  Is that the same thing as fun?  It will have to do for now.  

     In the mean time, this feels like a good start.