Yesterday I had an afternoon where lots of things were time dependant. I don’t like time to rule me- I prefer to let it roll along close by me, sometimes leading, sometimes following and sometimes, in those sweet moments of flow we even hold hands, time and I. Yesterday time was boss.
I had to pick up some cool presents for our Chicks Who Click private coaching group, then bust into the corona-free zone of the school to get Coco’s case left over from camp (yes, the two day old poo-water marinating in the Queensland sun smelt DIVINE for those of you following along), then be back to get the kids to work and singing lessons. Time-frames. And none of them mine. Which doesn’t sound like much, until I decided to believe the voice in my car “Do a u-turn and return to the route” instead of the voice in my head saying, “I don’t think that’s right.”
So I ended up sitting near Gibsons (which is the other side of town if you aren’t from Newsa), blinking like a mogwai, and wondering why on earth I didn’t listen to my brain instead of Siri. When you organise yourself to the nth degree, any deviation can throw the whole space-time-continuum thingy awry, and the earth shifts on its axis. Or perhaps I’m being a little dramatic. Blogging can do that to a person you know.
So I did what any self respecting loon would do: I breathed out, I smiled, and then I described (out loud) how the next hour would play out. How I would do all.of.the.things with ease and grace. Which of course made me laugh, as grace isn’t really my thang. (Have I ever told you about my “grace”-or fall from- on the escalator in Paris? Comment below if you must know more.)
The dude hosing the path out front of Gibsons gave me a smile- as you do when you encounter an unhinged Mum in a pretend 4WD near school pickup time- which I interpreted as him thinking, “Wow, she’s hot for an old bird, and I do like ’em with a bit of cray-cray.” Winky emoji. (Or maybe it’s the eggplant?)
Back to the narrative:
I got it all done. In fact, I got it done with time to spare. Time and I were mates again. Sorry for being mean, forgive me Time?
Which leads me to the point, and the thing that Coco and I were discussing this morning. Sometimes we think we can’t. Maybe we think we can’t get it all done. Or we can’t take the leap. Or we don’t have the skills. Or maybe we think we are too small, too weak, too dumb, too lazy, too incapable. But the funny thing is, when we set our intentions clearly, when we profess what we want, when we put in our specific order (I’ll have the steak medium-rare and put the gravy on the side please) and make sure it is received, then we can do more than we think we are capable of.
We aren’t incapable. We are IN CAPE ABLE.
We can all be super heroes in our own lives. In capes (obvs).
My cape says ‘The Fabulous Popping Nacho,” Liam’s says, “The Mighty Lightening Bolt,” and Coco’s says, “The Amazing Little Bee”. (Yes, we all have our talents, and yes, if I could choose again I’d now be The Chick of Truth, but sometimes you have to work with what you’ve been given, don’t you?). Point being: we all have capes. It’s just that sometimes they get chucked to the back of the cupboard with all the unmatched socks and the now dusty Apple box with the receipts from last Christmas. And we forget we have them.
Here’s some homework: Dust off your cape. (You’re more than able.)