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May 7, 2015: Moving Rocks

I sometimes see the things that I dread as being like rocks. Some are big and some are small. New fears are slick, shiny rocks—old fears are moss covered rocks. As I come up upon each self-imposed obstacle, I think that there is no way in hell that I will be able to get up, over, or around these rocks. Sometimes there is just one rock. And at other times there are several. I’ve had times in my life in which I’ve come upon boulder fields.

Most of the time I’ve been able to deal. What’s happened time and time again is that these obstacles have turned out to be like those in the west coast movie sets, that is to say that they’re made of lightweight materials and thus easily moveable.

I pick them up in a decidedly jubilant manner. I am at this moment in time a female Atlas, all brawn and no brain. “Grrrumph,” I say as I toss them to my left or right. I have in fact, moved entire boulder fields – the steps involved in getting my Ph.D. being indicative of this. Then after? I fail to see my accomplishments as being all that significant because the rocks didn’t weigh much of anything.

The real, first imagined rocks are not real. And the secondary, fake rocks are not real. But what they represent, that is perceived fears, are real. There is no way to get around this; it just goes with the territory.

The territory often deals with the unforeseen. All in the future is uncertain. You can plan things to the nth degree, but there is always that likelihood that something will go wrong. I who have a strong aversion to mental and physical pain, am always very much aware of this.

My fears often center around asking people for something. Asking for money is the worst. Yesterday, had two rocks in my path. Am currently seeking funding for the August Centered Riding clinic. Had to deal with a single rock. Had to communicate with the head of the Alaska Dressage Association, and ask if the organization could be an umbrella group. This would increase the likelihood of getting funding from the Alaska Dressage Federation.

And I had to talk on the phone with the Centered Riding director in Vermont, and ask if this, the head organization, could bend the rules a bit and come up with money for an open clinic. They generally provide monetary support for instructor clinics.

I likened the email correspondence to having to move one rock. I did this, and in the process moved the rock out of my path. I likened the phone conversation to having to move two rocks. I did this, and the process put one rock on one side of my path, and the other on the other side of my path. Both parties were congenial, and said they’d look into the matter.

After, I realized that my requests were not any big deal. If I don’t procure funding, those attending the clinic will just have to pay more money than they might otherwise. Of course, the rocks then were ridiculously light. Feathers would have weighed more.

Today, let’s see, what obstacles will be in my path? There are none that I can see.

And in the next few weeks, what obstacles will be in my path? One rock -- a veterinary visit (horses might not behave). Two rocks – a dental appointment (might hurt). A boulder field – plane travel (plane might explode in midair, leaving debris from here to kingdom come).

How to deal? I suppose that perhaps I could deal, by prior to encountering such rocks, is beforehand (rather than after) envision them as being easily moved, and then picture myself tossing them right and left.

I suppose that if this doesn’t work, that I could start taking anti-anxiety medication. Ahh, but here’s the rub. I would have to 1. Make a doctor’s appointment, one in which I’d be referred to a psychologist. 2. Make a psychologist’s appointment, one in which I’d be given a prescription. 3. Drive to the local pharmacy. Interact with the counter clerk at the pharmacy. 4. Drive home. Here you have a boulder field, for I’d fear 1. Interacting with the doctor, 2. Confiding in the psychologist, 3. Driving to town. 3. Chatting with the pharmacologist. 4. Driving back home. In thinking of this, I see many, many rocks, far too many for me to deal with.

I can easily rationalize my decision, which is put the thought of getting on anti-anxiety medications out of mind. I know for a fact that such medications suppress creativity and imagination. The up side of this is that there would be no rocks. But the down side of this is that there would be rocks. The prospect of my having to deal with rocks is what keeps me moving forward. If the paths that I take were obstacle free, I would not take them. Rather, I’d become inert, like the very objects that encounter on daily basis.

Next: 121. 5/8/15: Getting Ready for the Trail Trials

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