This morning it was only 8 degrees C (= 46.4 degrees F) when I went out for my walk. Already the tree tops are starting to bear some lighter shades of yellow. We're back to work, and next week the kids start school again. Like many others we're on the brink of a new term, new yet at the same time all too familiar.
Usually, I love the fall. I always have, ever since I can remember. Cool, crisp air and the trees' vibrant colors together with the start of something new has always had a way of making feel so incredibly alive. Unfortunately I am not feeling the same enthusiasm this time around.
This fall is going to mean work, work, work.
Just a few days ago I made a deal with myself to stop putting too high demands on myself, for example with my practice. So instead of skipping matwork since I can't put in an entire hour, I should aim for twenty minutes and feel satisfied with just doing what I can at that particular time. It sounded so good at the time....
Then today, which is more or less an average day - in the car a 9 A.M. - I return home at 7:30 P.M. So my dream of making it to a 6 P.M. Pilates class remains a dream. I'm greeted in the door by my son who looks like he's been out rolling in the dirt. Kitty wants attention (or rather more food). Daughter comes home shortly afterwards and needs to talk, shower, and have me braid her hair. At some point I manage to chow down a bowl of müsli.
By 9 P.M., when things finally quiet down, my so called goals are pretty much so called gone. They're the same goals I had earlier in the week, ironically enough.
I wish I knew a way I could break out of this cycle.
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