Simple
Kettlebell. Cannonball with a handle. I have the pandemic to thank for the growing collection in the garage. More than I need, and the epitome of “Simple, not easy.”
At least they can be. Like anything else, I can complicate them. Hardwired to think that more is better.
More is just…more. It’s impatience. Restlessness, born out of not knowing where I’m going. So I’ll never get there fast enough.
One exercise with the bells becomes two, then three, then more gear gets bought, added to the mix. And now it’s complicated. Still not easy.
But I’ve made it less simple, and the order of difficulty changes. Exponentially. And I give up. Frustrated with myself and the process. But mostly that first part.
If it’s worth doing, it’s not easy. And if I have any hope of getting “there,” it has to be simple. A movement. A sentence. An hour spent learning instead of just consuming.
Always simple. Never easy.
This is part of The 100, 100 posts in 100 days.