The price of awesomeness is that sometimes you end up in pain. Or really phlegmy. One week I'm touring Egypt and the next I'm becoming best friends with Nyquil and the only sights I'm seeing are the insides of my eyelids. So it goes.
Every time I go somewhere new and fabulous, I return with a cold. But it's all good. I like to think of it as giving my immune system some new challenges, some foreign and exciting germs to vanquish. My body and I are still speaking different languages, but at least now I'm actually listening and trying to understand. Rather than being that annoying tourist who tries to communicate in a foreign land by speaking increasingly loudly in his own language. As if there is some magic decibel level at which his words will get all Rosetta Stoned and suddenly everyone will understand him. I don't want to be that guy. I'm putting down my fanny pack and backing away slowly.
The thing about pain and discomfort is that sometimes it's a warning sign, a call to action or immediate cessation of the current action. But sometimes that discomfort is a sign of growth, a manifestation of all the awesomeness building up inside of you.
Lyric of the moment: "Sometimes the very thing you're looking for is the one thing you can't see..."
No comments:
Post a Comment