Chagrined, today I realized that most of my life is spent in “ordinary time.” The time between — between highs in my relationship; bursts of creativity in my writing; dramatic drops of weight on the scale; insights into the mysteries of, um, err, anything; between the briefest moments of pure joy and the quotidian motions of existence.
This awareness was foist upon me by a discussion with my minister-father on the vagaries of church attendance that followed on the heels of my reading about successful weight loss maintenance. (Bear with me.) Successful “losers” who become successful maintainers slog through the process of learning how to incorporate healthy behaviors into life-long habits. There is nothing quick, nothing magic, nothing more than continuing to work and work and then work forever. Sobering, eh? The religious aspect? Why do so many Christians go to church just on Christmas and Easter? It’s “high time” spiritually. The same is true for other religions – times of fasting, feasting, celebration, ecstasy, and then ordinary time; time to practice what one believes that those special occasions represent; practicing throughout the year; practicing forever. Ordinary time.
I’m going to have to learn to deal better with this concept and stop waiting for the unpredictable emotional lifts to get me through life and my quest for better health.