The King James, much like Hot yoga, is intimidating. There was a time when my spirit and my body were all aligned and I could handle that shyt but 2012 has been a bit more about the journey to find balance than the actual success of accomplishing that goal. I am beginning to see the value in approaching those black leather-bound pages of the grown-up bible much in the way I do my yoga handstands now: with fear and trembling. All of this has come up more recently because I have found myself at a bit of a crossroads: I know where I need to go, and I know who I need to get there- but the damn ( forgive me Jesus) treadmill/public yoga classes/ leather bound bibles have got me all running for cover and sticking to the solo version of all of the above…which allows me the freedom to jog a little bit more slowly, to stay in child’s pose for a few more breaths, to go to sleep a little mid-meditation…essentially to fail, or quit, in the privacy of my own home. However, I accepted defeat…or the need to push past defeat when I recorded this full fledged 4minute rant to myself. Be forewarned…I am cursing up a storm while writing about the Bible :
So, as usual, I am setting up for my point here: I have reverted back, with much gusto and comfort and silly teen giggles- to my True Love Waits Bible.
My parents had given me the sex talk years before and My grandparents then sent me this bible when I was in my early teens in their own attempt at preventative medicine. And while that ship has surely sailed, as it turns out- I still need the color coded devotional “break times” in my reading. My spirituality doesnt seem to be allowing me to move on to the grown up stuff without having a firm grasp on the basics. I can recall running back to this bible to cloak myself in the full armor before rallying past a hangover to get to church, or gearing up for yet another Organic Chemistry test waaay too many times than seems appropriate in undergrad. i feel like we were only supposed to like sin seven times or something right? Anyway…seems like those lessons I highlighted in colored milky pens still havent quite sunken in- so I am taking it back…way back…to the beginning.
Even now, I am taking a break from my devotional for this; another type of devotional- and learning not to feel too bad about that. The time it is taking me to feed, and nourish my soul just looks a little different: I am sitting in front of my macbook pro since I dont want to have to rewrite this all from my journal. I just finished a whole cantaloupe…in my house…by myself. And I plan to dust off a well worn in romance novel unashamedly as soon as I make it through my workout. And the only bit about any of this that I’m truly proud of at the moment is that I successfully ignored my text messages for the last 15 minutes to be present in this moment.
I’m still not about to do yoga in the park- I am not up to the mud run anytime until the spring, and I cannot claim the self assuredness to walk around outdoors clad in my current lack of apparel. But it seems like babies are completely content to take baby steps, and fall down, and baby walk it out out again…sounds like I still have a lot to learn from the kiddos…and the kiddo bible.