There was a road paved with possibility — mornings of sit‑ups, yoga, walking and journaling, the ritual that felt like a promise. As I embarked on this journey I needed a new path, so I created my Superconsciousness Highway — a space where I can be me, see with clarity, with an open heart, a strong spine, and a curious mind that lets me be my own objective observer, clear and connected.
For a while I rode it like a promise. But shit happens and life is going to life. A trigger pusing me right onto the off‑ramp back to the old roads — the old habits, the old patterns — full of dangers, potholes, and faded marker. As we hit that old dirt road, Smok’n Lisa takes the wheel. Built from neglect and abandonment, tough as nails, bold and fierce, she knows those scarred, rutted backroads better than anyone. She can handle whatever the old road throws at us.
I recognized her. I named her — Smok’n Lisa. Once she’s at the wheel I am not in control; she is a force. I lose the space for choice in my behavior. Smok’n Lisa runs on survival instinct; there is no choice. She locks in and she isn’t going anywhere — she stays in control until the task is done, the obstacle overcome, the danger averted.
I have felt helpless to this pattern, but I can not only recognize it — I can revise it. First I need space: a break in the chaos to relax my nervous system and regain clarity. In that moment, when my system softens, I reflect; I find space, and in that space I find grace — for others, for myself, and even for Smok’n Lisa.
There is only one way through. I have to let the emotions move — give in to feeling completely for the 90 seconds it takes. Insight becomes the on‑ramp. I do my daily breathwork; alignment follows. I re‑enter the Superconsciousness Highway with a clean lens and a changed perspective.
If my body wants to shake, stretch, or soften, I follow it. Not choreography. Not performance. Just the body finally exhaling what it has held.
Smok’n Lisa will keep showing up. The inner critic will keep talking. The work is not about why I get pushed off the highway — the work is the route back.I finish the small tasks. I sit with the feeling. I clean the lens. I choose again and again and again.
Slowly I re‑enter the Superconsciousness Highway — not because I never fall off, but because I learn the route back: gentler, truer, more honest.This is not failure. This is revision. This feels like growth.