There’s a premium on boldness in my mind and my culture.  Like make the big move, take the leap, go for the gusto.  Just Do It.  Like in my head there’s all these movie life-changer pivot moments where someone runs for the airport, or transforms their existence by putting on a suit, or shifts everything by grand pronouncement: “You had me at hello,” “Get busy living or get busy dying,” “God as my witness, I’ll never be hungry again!”
            Real life, my life, sometimes has moments like these, that feel sweeping and decisive, but then right afterwards there’s still socks to be matched and suspicious I-Tunes charges to be addressed and greying roots to embrace or dye over.  After “I do,” comes a lifetime of little inconveniences of co-existence, the toothbrush that doesn’t get put back in the holder, the failure to turn off lights upon departing the house, the saving of bizarre vegetarian leftovers for some mystery person who never eats them so the fridge is always full of inedible science experiments. 
            And there is love, and desire, and hope, and footwork.  That is the part that the movies leave out, the tremendous, daily, constant need for footwork.  Meaning, I gotta call the credit card company, and then Apple, and then figure out what my password is, so I can stop paying for something I never meant to pay for in the first place.  And how is my inner fairy princess goddess power woman supposed to thrive after that gauntlet? 

            The torrent of daily crap one must slog through, the illnesses, the holidays, the elections that don’t go my way, the socks that never ever show up, can really interfere with a magical existence.  An appreciation for life and a bold focus on my deeper purpose, whatever that is.  So I gotta tank up on the stuff that feeds that part too.  I gotta hike, sleep, eat well, be with my peeps, snuggle a lot, read good books, meditate, stay away from shows and other stuff that drains, and ask for help.  Gotta check in regularly with the bold me, the essential me, the one I love like a mom loves her child and say, “what can we do today to take care of you?  How can we make it a little bit sweeter, more comfy, for you to trudge this earthly road?”  And then I breathe in and out, deeply, and then I go do what must be done.