Reconstruction

I have heard it said that “If you do not stand for something, you fall for everything.”

Last night I had a dream where I was sitting on a rug, presumably babysitting some small children. In front of me was a group of plastic toys, all broken. I was taking them apart, piece by piece, and it was utterly imperative that I handle and feel each plastic primary-colored piece.

My mother said on the ride to work this morning that perhaps this is because I am handling my life exactly how I handled those broken toys. I have separate parts of my life that are each not whole, not fully planned. And each plan, each possibility I take apart piece by piece and feel it out – the rough edges, the smooth surfaces, the weight and how it fits into the rest of the plan.

I read this article today by Kelly Grey: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2010/08/the-downside-to-down-dog-by-kelly-grey/ that ends with the questions ‘ “ “What is yoga?” I believe the more appropriate question is what is your heart? Your voice? Your essence? What is your love, your deepest most personal truth?’. The article makes the point that anything you follow is nothing at all unless it is the answer to those questions.

I know nothing of what my life is. I know I am bored at this job. I know I am in love. I know I enjoy my family’s company and that when I am bored I struggle with exercise. The date of departure rests in the first week of January. Denver bound we will leave in our 17’ 1976 Yellowstone Trailer (purchased last week in a campground in Pennsylvania). There is more room in there than my junior year dorm room. As this adventure moves closer with the ending of summer I am pulling the plastic pieces apart, trying to find what I stand for, looking for my voice, my essence, my love and personal truth. Which piece keeps these treasures? Or, better question, which toy that I deconstruct keeps them?

I feel that when I put the pieces back together they will form some strange toy. Like how my brother put Ken doll pieces on my Barbies, or like interchangeable transformer parts. I can see robot legs on a plastic pick-up truck in my future. Not one path to follow. No perfect toy that must be kept on the shelf. A reconstructed future.

Maybe I was studying the pieces so intently so that I knew how to fit my favorite ones together again. Whatever it is I learn to stand for, I’ll stand with two different legs.