I spun like a crazed woman on a treadmill, except for the fact that I was actually on an elliptical. My arms moved as if they were ready to punch the world right out of my way. My eyes focused as if I was really going to finally get myself somewhere. My legs moved trying to knee pressing issues right out of the way.
I was the wild gym-goer -
the girl trying to force herself to new ground -
ground that was unattainable to get to.
I kept spinning. Spinning worries. Spinning problems. Spinning up things that could go wrong. Building a whole lot of motion that was moving me nowhere.
In my mind's dictionary, it means:
1. Trying to force yourself to go, make progress or get ahead.
In the dictionary of classical mechanics (which, I know by heart - joke!), it means:
1. A body either is at rest or moves with constant velocity, until and unless an outer force is applied to it.
An outer force? There was no outer force around me, just an inner force, an inner force of doubt driving my pursuits.
I didn't trust "Outer Force" would work on my timeline, or according to my demands or with my outcome. God may have some answer like, "Kelly, wait." Or, "Kelly, my will is being done."
I get frustrated with those kinds of answers. I get internally irate and put an arm up - choosing worry over wonder.
Pumping. Sweating. Pressing in - to my more. I considered God.
And, as if the clouds parted and my mind hit some new parallel of peace, it landed - softly.
I watched him through the giant window. Chilling. Eating. Laughing, almost, at me. He came to teach me something.
10 Lessons Taught by A Bird: