“I’m a pony. I’m a pony. I’m a pony.”
Whoa that was a frackin’ bizarre dream I just had. What time is it? 5 AM? I’ll take the wake up call as a good omen. Rising before the crack of dawn to Richard Simmons with the body of a duck in short-shorts, a wife beater, leg warmers, and a bandanna is not up there in my life’s bucket list, but at least he gets my day off and running…running away, far away.
I’ve learned over the years that motivators sometimes appear in strange guises. Ah the humourous whims of The Great Duck In the Sky keep life fun, don’t they?
On a not so random note, I wonder what Bob Proctor, the renowned personal development and motivational speaker, would look like as a duck? He certainly knows how to deliver a golden egg or two or three and more.
I imagine Bob would be more of a bird doula helping each individual duck from the Gangnam procession deliver their golden eggs intact. Even feathered motivators who know how to waddle through past memories need a little guidance to surface in the here and now, lest they be seduced by the comfort of the past, the known, the paradigms that will inevitably keep them chained to a mundane existence.
When The Ducks Are Quacking, they need to breathe in alignment with their goal so that they can successfully facilitate communication between the conscious and subconscious minds of their host, the Woman Not Waiting. And they are certainly making a racket up there.
I am trying to get through DVD 2 of Bob Proctor’s Thinking Into Results program but the quacking in my head is messing with my focus.
- It’s not my fault the Sunday duck didn’t show up yesterday.
- It’s not my fault I had to spend 2 hours vacuuming and cleaning because I found a flea on my Lola girl.
- It’s not my fault the hand-recognition program on my tablet is less than accurate which made my DVD 1 homework take much longer.
- It’s not my fault that I didn’t get much sleep Saturday night imbibing in a joyous amount of Rum.
It’s not my fault.
Oh-oh! Woman Not Waiting falling into victimhood.
Did you hear that? It sounded like something hard hit my bedroom wall.
Hang a sec while I go check. I’d better bring my fearsome poodle with me just in case sharp teeth are needed.
(seconds turn into minutes; minutes into hours)
Well, obviously it IS my doing as I was not so delicately reminded by Ducky Simmons.
While I was busy making up excuses, Ducky’s twin brother Richard had set up a treadmill, some free weights, a set of rollers for her mini racing bike, and even a wading pool for her to do laps in. Ms. Simmons had started the grueling training regimen her brother designed for her and in the process flew off the bike and into the wall.
But that didn’t stop her. She got right back up, dropped to a lower gear, and spun faster, which turned out to be the smart thing to do. She quacked to me as she fell into a smooth rhythm: “Qua-Quack qua quack qua quack.” (Sorry I broke the egg)
And there it was, cracked on the floor with a gelatinous mess oozing down the wall spelling out the message she was in charge of delivering.
“Keep the momentum going and life flows easily. Grind a big gear heads down and it just piles up.”
Well if that wasn’t a wing slap in the face!
I have been so busy with trying to knock off as many tasks on my ever-growing list that I fell back into the work-hard-not-smart trap. I was falling behind.
Smart would be to make sure I bring a flea comb on our dog walks and do a quick pass before coming home, on Lola of course. Smart would be taking the time upfront to set up my new laptop instead of grinding at the tablet. Smart would be avoiding the yo-ho-ho song with the fire water in the wee hours.
So I decided to invest the morning listening to the wisdom of the yellow athlete doing circuits in my bedroom.
You see Ducky had a dream to ride the Tour De Duck and to win the polka dot jersey. She didn’t know all the details of how to get there but she knew that it required a balance of speed and strength, as well as an upper body. A T-Rex physique wasn’t going to win her the Alps and the Pyrenees. She also knew that if she didn’t check her resting heart rate daily she could over-train and jeopardize her chances at success.
All I need to do is bring forth the Fitnoduck principles I followed in the past into the now and apply them to my mind instead.
- First, start Cleaning Up The Duck Guck
- Break up the work into small quick chunks
- Build in some recovery time
- Concentrate on just the piece at hand
- Move swiftly to the next small action
- Evaluate the results and my personal state at the end of the day
- Tweak if necessary
If I become a mind athlete then I won’t become a mental one smelling of burnt spongy goo.
And you? Are you paying attention to your own vital signs?