Meditation and I have never gotten along really well. My mind wanders so quickly and so far that calming falls away to storytelling. I latch on to the easiest distraction that comes my way, just for something to grab onto. And, in the worst possible scenario, the quiet and even breathing and environment brought about by meditation drops me into sleep and the accompanying earth-shattering snoring. This chain of reasoning leads me to one conclusion:

Active meditation.

Active. Motion-intensive. Most likely something involving exercise and use of strength. In this, my mind is occupied by the process of moving the activity from a step-by-step algorithm in my head into something that I just do. The breathing is still even, but it doesn’t lend itself to sleep. Not to mention the release of excess and stored energy that’s involved. The bits of my life that point toward this as a solution are nearly infinite and completely obvious. Which is, of course, why they’ve remained unseen and ignored.

Taking the first step into getting back in the habit of daily exercise is scaring the shit out of me right now. More than when I started Kung Fu. More than when I stopped Kung Fu. Why is doing the right thing freaking me out?