ca·pac·i·ty

When we make a resolution, how do we choose how much? Do more yoga. But how often? Eat more healthy. But eat what, when? Drink less coffee. How much less? Drink more coffee. Every day? Twice a day? Once a week? We choose based on a line. A line we have drawn. On one side we've put bad. The other side good. And if we do this thing more, or do this other thing less, we'll move to the good side.

But really it's about how we feel. How we interact. How we navigate our day. Is it enjoyable, rich, fun, challenging, scary, stimulating, calming? Are we happy? Are we healthy? Are we following our path? Or someone else's path. Are we getting what we need? And if we're not, what changes? Can we really add something else? Isn't the problem having too many things in the jar already. It's stuffed full of rocks. And if I add something else, it'll have to be pebbles to fit into the cracks, and then sand to fill the spaces. And then I'll be really full. And things will start to pile on top. Balancing the new things, the gym, the green drink, more sex, and the jar will crack. Split. And things will fall apart. The rocks will avalanche. And all those fancy resolutions making life better will blow away.

But what if it's not about piling stuff on top. What if it's not about the rocks at all. What if it's about the container. Instead of jamming more stuff in, what if we made the container larger? And flexible. Resilient. A larger resilient container that has more capacity. Space to interact with grace and skill. To be present with the people around us. To make a difference. To live a big life. So that we navigate our day with patience, compassion, even raw anger, joy, feeling the rush of being alive. Of moving, taking life in. And softening those anchors, holding them as polished stones in our pocket, to guide us.

ca·pac·i·ty

noun

1. 1.

   the maximum amount that something can contain.
2. 2.

   the ability or power to do, experience, or understand something.