The day has broken. I struggle out of bed and struggle through my qigong routines. Such is life. How many mornings have I gotten out of bed now? And how many times have I done my qigong exercises? You think I would have perfected both that I could do them in my sleep!
But surprise and no surprise, it isn’t so. We never reach that perfection point of no struggle…while we are still breathing. Perhaps it is a good thing. Otherwise, we would stop reaching for the moon, the stars, for something better or just different. We would stop growing and developing into new possibilities.
And so I sigh and sip my coffee and suffer my little discomforts. I massage my sore tight spots. I breathe out my angst and inhale the goodness of the universe. I let go of my judgements and let in the love.
If I am to live in this world, I have to be of this world. We are all the same. We are the dancers. Our struggle is the dance. It matters how we dance. Let my dance be the tango.