Still, here I am up and moving forward, even though I don't feel like it--therein lies the order of faith, doing something when you don't feel like it, hoping the feelings will come if you just can keep your feet shuffling along. I often think, however, where I would be if I was not willing to make some bold declaration--speaking is the first order of action, and then its move, move, move. As I get older, it becomes more difficult to move. I have to rely on others moving as well. I was telling Kent at this time in my life I feel like a boxer who has fought a hundred fights. Although people will still come to see me fight, I've definitely lost a step. Do I become a trainer instead? Do I find another job? Part of this journey has been to create another job for myself. To become a performer again, creating something people want to see.
This summer, I went back to performing in an upscale restaurant, and someone ask me if doing what I was doing is draining. Yes, it is. There were some nights as I would throw my guitar in the back of my pick-up, I would get this overwhelming weariness, (like I have right now) as though the 'all of me' was resisting what I must go and do. I learned from experience, however, that as I warmed up and started to play, the weariness would always go away. Why is this? The very thing we love to do becomes a point of resistance and weariness. Again, it is the intellectual act of moving the feet and 'getting to the mountain'. I once devised a lesson to teach over two weeks on 'how difficult it is TO GET TO THE MOUNTAIN'. Once there, climbing it isn't so difficult. As out bodies warm up and we start up that narrow path that takes us to the top, we become more enthusiastic as we climb. There will always be obstacles that attempt to keep us from getting there.
I also would feel this most every morning before I would go and teach at school. It is mind boggling to realize that I got up everyday and dressed myself to get inside of a ring with teenagers, and quite often during this boxing match I would get knocked out. I had to be cagey to have the upper hand. My goal was to have friendly sparring, and after ten years, I feel as though I learned to be fearless in a ring with teenagers. Each day, when lunch time would approach, I would go into have my lunch with other teachers who had not learned the art of boxing. There were so many cuts and bruises that I saw in those ten years. Although I will always count teaching as something I learned as a craft and will continue to do, I had enough in a more formal setting. Now I face that huge transitional period to find my way into another arena. Aaaaa! to be thirty again! To have boundless hours of energy and enthusiasm. Alas, I have what I have, perhaps experience will get me through.
So, today I will talk to several people with downtown space, and tomorrow will go and look at the possibilities. The possibilities. What is possible? We learn that all is possible. We are taught that anything is possible in America. I pray for President Obama today, I wonder if he wakes in the middle of the night and says to himself, "What have I done? What have I declared? How will I survive this boulder I must push up this hill? What brought me here? Can I get up tomorrow and assemble a team for this task? God help me..."