The day after I picked my word for 2013 on January 1, I floated right off of NOW into a FUTURE IMPERFECT head space. On January 2nd, I watched the clock, willing it to be 5pm, wanting to be anywhere but at work, itching to fast forward to home/dinner/wine/computer/bed. I spent the whole day convinced I’d never write another word and projecting into a future in which I would miss every deadline or turn in writing that was so bad everyone would pity me behind my back. I envisioned scenes in which I would be the last to know my writing was shit. I enacted in my brain a script in which I slunk out of the office, city, world with my tail between my legs. Later at yoga, I fumed because it was so crowded, I made lists in my head when I should have been cat/cowing it, I thought about dinner, I thirsted for a glass of wine, I wasn’t in my body and I fell out of tree pose over and over. Finally, in the last minutes of Corpse Pose, flat on my back trying to relax, I had one tingly moment of landing back into here and now, but even then I was recording it in my mind in order to write it down it later! Instead of letting it take me over, I was already speeding past, flying over it. I was acutely conscious of being a big fake. Should I flagellate myself or forgive myself? No, I didn’t live up to my 2013 word — in fact, I failed at it immediately and spectacularly. Just like every day, I intend to do 25 pushups, meditate for 20 minutes, drink less, create more, write in my journal, take a daily walk, give up cheese, fall in love with vegetables. And every day, I fall down, I fail, I’m fallible, I’m fragile…but I also get back up, make excuses, try harder, fail again, take baby steps and wake up to do it all over again. Dear Word of 2013, please keep pulling me back to earth when I become untethered.