Tricked

• I’ll just get out of bed; that’s all.
• Since I’m up, I may as well brush my teeth.
• I guess I’ll get dressed then, but that’s it.
• A cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt.  I suppose I’ll read the paper as I drink it.
• I’m awake now, so why not ride my bike to the yoga studio?
• Once I’m here, there’s no sense in not rolling out my mat.
• I’ll just do one sun salutation.  And another.  And then all five of the first version.
• I’m just going to finish the three of the second version and then sit.
• How about the first two standing poses, just to open my sinuses.
• Almost halfway through the standing postures, it’s easy enough to finish them out.
• A couple of sitting poses, just for flexibility’s sake.
• At this point, there’s no point in not completing the half-primary.
• The hardest part is over; I can coast through the remainder of the full primary.
• One, no two, no three backbends.  And then the finishing poses because, sure.

This is how you trick yourself into doing things.  You just do the next thing and then the next after that and the next after that.  Before you realize what you’ve done, you’ve done it.

Life is like this from the beginning.  Divide that first cell, and then those two, those four, those eight, sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four and on and on an on.  Next thing you know, you’re an infant, then a toddler, a little kid, a child, a teenager, a young adult, a grown up, an old person, and finally, you’re no more.

But you were when you were and the way that you were was by one step at a time until all those steps added up to a life of accomplishment—or at least, action.

It begins every day by getting out of bed and the surest way to do that is to pretend that it’s all that you’re doing, ha-ha, tricked you!