It's not often you'll find me quoting Burns, though I did grow up in Burns country and thus I think he's inescapably part of my mind's landscape (which is ok with me - dude did actually talk a lot of sense). That line up there has been bouncing about in my head for the past couple of days.
I don't tend to have a very high opinion of myself. Sorting out the body was Phase 1 in amending that. There is still some work required on that front but really, it's the mind that needs attention. I need to make a conscious effort not to be down on myself and what I need to remember is this: the rest of the world doesn't know that I feel like that! My extreme loser-dom is not immediately obvious to all and sundry and, in fact, there are people out there who actually think I'm quite good at things. I am capable of making people happy - how good is that?
Case in point, the saga of Peter Puffit. A friend of ours emigrated to Australia a few months ago. This meant sorting through his many worldly possessions to decide what would be taken with him, what would be shipped out later and what just had to go (and though I am a hoarder, I've got nothing on this guy). One of the things he elected to keep was a sad old 70s crochet affair. What was once a ladybird floor cushion called Peter Puffit, now a moth eaten, saggy old thing (but Allan loved him). In honour of his new start in Melbourne, we decided that I would make him an all new one but smaller for transport purposes and so Peter Puffit Jnr came to be. Here he is:
It appears that PTP Jnr has now made it to the other side of the world :) I'm strangely tickled that something I made is now in a country I have never even seen. Is it weird that I myself feel strangely more real now that something which came from my hands and mind now exists entirely outside the context of me? I think the best bit is the PTP Jnr is a comfort to Allan (or so I like to believe).
In conclusion: self, you are not useless - please remember this and live your life accordingly!
Have I mentioned that I love my yoga teacher? I do, I love my yoga teacher. She's the business. Proof, were it needed: she touched my foot the other week and I didn't curl up and die (I don't do feet, even the father of my child was never allowed to touch my feet. That's how much I don't do them). Anyway, she was talking today about manifest thoughts. I believe there's something in that. Without sounding too wanky, I feel like there are more positive influences coming into play in my life and I'm going to go with that. Well, that and my prison yard fitness regime ... and my fancy pants :)
I understand where you're coming from, anyone who touches my feet gets a punch in the face. That's how we roll down in the prison yard ;)
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