Just for today.


Yesterday, I stumbled from a cozy bed absent of sleep.

Sleep-deprivation is not pretty.

Thank goodness there was yoga to look forward to though my heavy tired heart was not having it – motivation and hope that is.

I’d been wrestling for too long with life and feeling like I have been failing at “growth” and dreaming fresh dreams of what my life will say at its end.

Add zippety sleep to unresolved sadness and frustration, and the horizon looks pretty bleak. Orcs, sharks in the water, Godzilla, gremlins and those giant worm things Kevin Bacon fought in Tremors arise in our imagination to convince us that we are squat and the world is grim.

Ugh. It is life. Life sometimes. Or a lot. For now.

Fortunately, I recognized it for what it was, tired predatory thoughts chewing up my tender root of peace. The weight of those tired thoughts and the wrasslin with the world made my heart feel dead and hope to flee Middle Earth, the water, the city and wherever gremlins and Kevin Bacon was.


As with many good ideas, I had a thought while I brushed my teeth before heading out to early morning yoga. I had the thought to hang in there “Just for Today.”

To believe that life was worth the wrasslin
hope might just pay off
and that love isn’t just for shiny folks.

Just for today.

That one thought
however sideways and hopeful
got me out the door.

It helped me scamper into the breezy and chilled morning air
to the sweet Vibe with its rusty spot and miles of memory
into Aggieville where a handful of early morning, practice-minded people prepared to step onto their yoga mats and leave the world outside…at least for a few mindful moments.

Once inside the studio, the dread returned. Tears tested their escape. Each step carried the weight of a million steps.

A hug from a friend gave the boost I needed to keep moving toward the downward dogs. When I saw the sharpie and wrote “Just for Today” on the palm of my hand, encouragement breathed its whisp.

Just for Today.

We can keep going.
We can do this.
We can stretch and grow and fall and climb back up again.

We can do the next thing.

Just for Today.

And when tomorrow comes, we can do it again – focus on that day and move through it Just for Today.

Who knows? I finally may get that tiny inconspicuous tattoo on my wrist as a permanent reminder for each temporary season of dread.

Just for Today.

2 thoughts on “Just for today.

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