I'm in that day-before-travel funk of 600 things to do and I don't even know which to prioritize. I'm pissed off with myself for all the time I've wasted this week. I'm worried I'll make poor choices because I'm making them too fast. I hate myself for keeping other people waiting on info and decisions from me. The repeating soundtrack in my head is:
"Other touring artists are much more together than this.
Other people have their lives far better organized.
How can I do this if I don't have my infrastructure and systems down?"
In the midst of this, I get an email from my friend Pablo. He fervently recommends the poem, "This Is My Voice", on Shane Koyczan's Myspace. So I click on it and listen. It begins:
"This is my voice.
There are many like it
but only this one is mine."
The lines come from the first lesson of US military training. Army recruits are taught to chant:
"This is my gun. There are many like it, but only this one is mine."
until their gun becomes an extension of their body. Chilling.
"This is my life. There are many like it, but only this one is mine."
Amazing how that drops me into acceptance of the disorder, the backlog, the mess and frustration. I breathe into my belly, my shoulders drop two inches. I smile at my life, as I would at a mud-spattered child. I say to it:
"OK, love. Here we are. This is what we have. Let's stop fighting it and go from here."