THE CLIMB: THE WEIGHT

I put a lot of pressure on myself to do and be whatever that situation calls for in my mind.

Take meditation. I put weight on it to get to a certain place. It should have visions. It should have clarity. It should have all the lessons and teachings and spirituality. And if I'm not getting there I get restless in it.

Conversations — I'm putting on a show. Talking too much. Trying to over-explain and sound a certain way.

Even songs. I'm listening but I'm already looking at what's coming next instead of just being in what's playing right now.

It's whatever the situation calls for. I put so much weight on it being a certain way — controlling it almost — to have a certain outcome instead of just living it and being in that moment.

That's the weight. And I carry it everywhere.

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I. The Call

Here's what the weight actually does.

I decide how a situation should be. And then I spend the entire situation managing toward that decision. I look at the gap between what's actually happening and what I decided it should look like. I judge the gap. That judgment sits there and keeps me stuck in the loop.

And what I miss — while I'm managing — is the experience itself.

Because none of it can live in there. Not the true experience of the situation. Not the natural outcome. Not your presence. Not your ability to take in or learn or grow. And not your authenticity. None of those things can live in an environment built from your mind that's just trying to rush through it and get a certain outcome.

The only thing actually happening inside a managed moment is the managing.

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II. The Fracture

Take the Gypsy.

I've been talking about getting up in front of people and telling a story — reading a piece, performing something from the heart — and somewhere in all the talking about it this thing grew into something bigger than it is. I've been putting so much weight on that one act. Whether I'm good or bad. Whether it goes over well or not. What people may or may not think.

And I had to stop and ask myself — why is that such a big deal. Why am I putting so much weight on one experience. If that's something I want to have. If that's something I believe I need to take in this journey and on this path. Then just go do it. Prepare for it and go do it.

That's really all there is to it.

And here's what I keep coming back to. Life is going to go at the same pace it always has. A second is a second. A minute is a minute. It literally has one speed. There's no rushing it. There's no forcing it. There's no slowing it down. It just simply moves at the pace that it moves.

My meditation playlist is the same length every morning. It's not going to go faster and it's not going to go slower. It's going to go exactly the pace it was built to go. So what am I racing to. Why am I looking at the next song and what's coming up and getting prepared mentally for it when I'm still in this one.

Slow down. Breathe. There's nothing to race toward.

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III. The Forge

So what actually gets lost when you're rushing.

What gets lost when you're managing toward a predetermined outcome instead of just living the thing in front of you.

The true experience of the situation. Gone. The natural outcome or result of that situation. Gone. Your presence. Your ability to take in or learn or grow. And your authenticity.

I don't see where any of those things can live in that kind of environment. They require you to just be in it.

And I got the proof of this the very next morning after I named the weight.

I went into the meditation with one intention — just be in my heart. Not worrying about what song's on. Not worrying about what part of the meditation I'm in. Not looking at what I'm getting from it or what I'm putting into it. Just being there. And being so comfortable and calm and relaxed.

And before I knew it I was sitting here journaling and I had no idea where the time went. It just was. The meditations all passed through and there was no feeling of time that came with them. It just was.

That's what it feels like without the weight.

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IV. The Collapse

So here's where it got real on me.

I finished the first journal — the emotional one where I just let everything out — and I put the phone down and I took the breath I always take between journals. Just a moment to let what came out settle.

And I took this big breath and it hit me.

Dude. You speak with anxiety. With rush. With a need to get all the words out so fast.

I was out of breath. From journaling. From doing voice to text into my phone.

And I realized — that's performing the journaling. Instead of just allowing the words to come out however they come out. From the heart. From the mind. From the soul. From wherever.

And that's when I understood it wasn't just the Gypsy. It wasn't just conversations. It wasn't just meditation. It was the journaling too. Everything I do comes from a place of unsettlement and rush. Decades of living that way. Of not being present in everything I'm doing because I'm always looking past it to wherever I think I'm supposed to be.

That's the weight. Right there in the breath.

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V. The Return

Here's the distinction that came out of it.

Just telling the story and trying to tell the story are two different things.

Just telling it — the words come out as they will. No worrying about perfection or a certain message. Just connecting with where you're at inside and letting the words come. You're not putting specific words or stories into it to try to get somewhere. You're allowing the words to come out instead of placing them.

Trying to tell it — the words are being moved toward a destination. You've already decided where the story should end up and you're building a path to get there while you're in the middle of living it. You're managing.

And you know which one you're doing in the moment you're doing it. Because one of them feels like breathing. The other one feels like running out of air.

The check-in is the practice. In the middle of a conversation — just take a breath. Refocus. Where are you right now. What are you doing. And then just be there and let the conversation take place. Let whatever comes out of it be what needs to come out of it.

Not as a technique. As a return.

I need to do this constantly. To the point of being annoying about it to myself. And I have to be okay that right now that's what it takes — that it's not yet how I walk and act and live. It will be. But it's not right now. And I give myself the grace of that.

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VI. The Walk

There's a rhythm to your life. And I'm learning what it looks like when you're in it.

When you are doing the little things — taking care of yourself, just doing the work that's in front of you — I doubt you're rushing. When you're paying your bills, folding your laundry, showing up to the thing you said you'd show up to, being impeccable with your word in a conversation — I doubt you're trying to manage time. You're just in it. You're just doing it.

It's when you're not doing the little things that the noise comes in. That's when the rushing starts. That's when the weight shows up and turns everything into something that has to be managed toward a certain outcome because the foundation underneath isn't solid and you can feel it.

The remedy isn't a better performance strategy. It's just doing the next thing in front of you. Not the grand gesture. Not the thing that announces itself. The next small thing that needs to be done.

It's not magical.

It's just your life, lived at the pace it actually moves.

That is the weight set down.

That is the climb.