I lie awake while viruses tear apart my lungs. It's nothing too severe, yet enough to shackle me in my sheets. And certainly enough to cause complaint. I'm not good with feeling stationary. In fact, the fear of being stationary is the dominating motive behind my chosen career in neurodegenerative research: to provide "movement" to those who have none. I suppose it's a metaphor for movement of the soul. And I do expend my movement with great strides. Yet, ironically, I often pause in appreciation for my dynamic life. Tonight is precisely one of those moments.
The feats of my still-juvenile life are many. Not all have been successes, yet the effort to embark has usually been a success. In other words, when I give an attempt, I may not succeed at the task before me but I'll at least put all I'm worth into trying. Or I won't try at all. The latter has largely been the excuse for me denying my musical talents beyond open-mic opportunities because if I were to do so, it would siphon valuable time from my Ph.D. research -- something that is currently receiving some "all I'm worth" effort. In regards to less gargantuan tasks, it seems that whether I throw a party, make a flier for an event, or update my blog, if I'm not going to allocate appropriate time to "do it right," then I'll wait until I can.
Perhaps being single for over two years is another, more poignant example. Girlfriends are "expensive" in many ways, and if I'm to embark upon obtaining "boyfriend" status, I had better be willing to invest all I'm worth or not invest at all...right? Well....Wrong. Or so recent musings have whispered. The problem with my rather perfectionist behavior described above is that it doesn't move -- it's rigid. Just like a favorite song buried among a mediocre album, sometimes the process of discovery makes even a failed journey worthwhile.
I don't need to fear failure (of a relationship) because there can be so many successful discoveries (within someone else, as well as myself) along the way. Hence, not everything, I suppose, needs to be packaged in a nice and tidy bow in order to be "complete". I write songs that way, no doubt, and I usually write blog entries that way as well (which is why it's been so long since I've properly 'breathed" on this blog). But that isn't the only process from which I can exercise movement. What fantastic women have I been avoiding for nearly two and a half years because I wasn't in the mental place to put all of my efforts into a relationship? The answer is likely many. But alas, I sit here chained to my sheets by coughs and sniffles. And I'm alone. By choice. This is not movement.
Even my ever-evolving, ever-challenging relationship with science gleams with the lure of discovery. Science is never packaged in a tidy bow of perfectionism. Yet, it embodies a relationship that I invested in long ago with little reservation. We may not be together forever -- in fact, we nearly "broke up" permanently a few months back. But the process of discovering this beautiful entity, laden with movement, in itself has fueled my process to discover movement for stationary people. And so to fail is not to stop moving; rather, to fail is not to start moving.
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