I talked about my lodestar in a previous post, and I’m glad I did because shit gets foggy out at sea. If I don’t have that lighthouse to guide my little boat home, I’m stuck, floating aimlessly in the dark.
That tiny pinprick of light—my lodestar—simple, calm and peaceful sanity—is enough to right my ship and get me going in the proper direction.
Do you have those days that start out innocently enough, and then like a slow leak, fill with briny salt water? Your day slowly submerges, the world around you blurs. You choke. Your boat capsizes. You’re left feeling anxious and alone, cold and dripping wet. You look over your shoulder for the shark. I always scour the sea for that damn shark. Do you?
A phone call brings distressing news. A meeting with a new business acquaintance leaves me feeling patronized and unvalued. The contractor hasn’t showed up in two days. My shoulder is sick with re-inflicted strain. The Tactical Strength Challenge looms on the horizon. An argument with my kid rips a tiny tear in my heart. School is closed for yet even more snow.
So how do I find my guiding light in the dark? I complete my rituals. Bed-making. Coffee heating. Teeth brushing. I literally tell myself, I love you. You’re on the right course. I remind myself how far worse it’s been, my anxiety, fragility. And I unfurl the list of all the things that went right this day—training two clients I adore and obtaining a new client who I also adore. My dogs. Always my dogs. A gratifying interaction on social media with a hero of mine. Roasted sweet potato fries. A smooth, strong deadlifting session. And I remember all the people in my life who have shown me tremendous support in the wake of my being tossed overboard from my last ship—a number that could sail the Essex around Cape Horn and not get rammed by a whale.
Despite the argument with my kid, I know we are good and safe, especially compared to where I came from. That ALWAYS encourages me. Overall life is good. Overall I am blessed, as much as the hashtag makes me squirm.
And I take my medication. And I train. And I eat. And I rest. And I write. I write my way right. And the lighthouse emerges from the mist. And it glows warm against my face. And I am home again.
Land ahoy mates.