Reality check

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One day last week, I promised myself that at the end of a very long workday, I would roll out my yoga mat and practice online with one of my favorite teachers from afar. 

The class started at 6pm. At 6:12pm, I was still writing emails. Did I mention the thing about the workday? Yeah, a doozy. 

I know that any practice is better than no practice, though, so I persisted in my goal to make it happen.

This month, I’m filling in for a colleague in my “day job”, and basically doing two full-time jobs with one body, one brain, and only 24 hours in a day. If you’re thinking that the math doesn’t add up, you’d be correct. Math has never been my forté, though. 

Because the class was online and therefore there’s no such thing as “late,” I logged off of email and onto the mat, and spent the remaining 48 minutes (math!! Seeee, self-doubt is a liar…) of class in somewhat this fashion:

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Buried treasure

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This past weekend, I cleaned out a set of drawers that had gone way too long without seeing the light of day. They’re in a small piece of furniture that’s been relatively easy to move, while filled, from place to place for years now. It’s not like I never go through it. It’s just that there are parts of it that I take for granted as “that stuff” – packages of files, photos, and other remnants that I basically just leave be every time, and work around. 

This time, I decided to unpack them. 

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Are we there yet?

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Recently, I was listening to an episode of a podcast I really like in which the main topic was the psychology of waiting. Every statistic, example, and anecdote that the host and guests discussed sounded like it came straight from the notes of my entire professional career in higher education, admissions, and coaching. So much of my work has been on one side of the waiting game or the other — waiting for applications to come in, waiting for admitted students to make their enrollment decisions. Now, I wait with the applicants I coach, counting the days until interview invitations and decision announcements come through.

Of course, I’m human, and have my own experiences with waiting under my belt.

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