Because - some days - it's hard.
Some days - it's more effort than ease....more work than pleasure. Some days it's fingernails on a chalkboard - that piercingly dissonant sound.
It's on those days - that I have to stop and remind myself. No one promised me 'easy'. No one promised me 'fair'. No one promised a world filled with beautiful roses.
Some days - I want to give up..give in...stamp my feet...scream out loud. This 'thing' to which I'm committed....this 'thing' that I do no-matter-what...this 'thing' I refer to as the discipline of practice - is just too much.
But then - there I am.
My hands press at heart center. My feet ground down. My toes spread. My heart opens. An inhale reaches me up to the sky..an exhale folds me forward. One breath and then another.
I'm centered. I'm quiet. I'm found.
I watch as a solo swan makes and breaks her way thru the ice. Such persistence. Such focus. Such steady and calm determination. She returns again and again. Season after season. Day after day. No-matter-what..or the weather.
Again - I'm reminded - that without the showing up..the discipline..the practice - there is no art. And - for that - I'm both humbled and forever grateful.