The Magic of Meditation

I always tell myself I'm going to start meditating, then I do, but I only keep it up for about a month or so before other things become more attractive. Like running or sleeping. I've read a lot about meditation, and I know that physiologically it makes a difference to how our bodies process stress hormones, how our blood moves, and how our bodies function in general.

But since I'm not a meditator, how can I access the kinds of things I want from meditating, without meditating? What do I want to feel? How do I want to change my body and my mind? What's my goal?

My goal is inner peace. My goal is world peace. My goal is a healthier body. My goal is a better temperament. My goal is a better birth experience for women. My goal is to be a better person. My goal is to be the best ......

Hold it right there! "working on yourself", having a "goal" in terms of self-discovery or self-care, or healing from trauma or whatever... these are not useful. Why are we starting at a place where we are intrinsically broken? Why don't we start from that place where we are whole? If you can sit with yourself for one minute and be grateful for ... grateful for just being. For the little things that may give you pleasure in the here and now, then that is good. And that's all it is.

Life is made up of tiny drops in the ocean. Do something, it will have effects. Don't do another thing, that will have effects too. I try to experience that physiological state that I imagine meditating achieves when I lie in bed. I move my consciousness through my body and check where little glitches might be, and then I fall asleep. It's when I'm running that I can free my mind. When I run my goals disappear. I run to get lost. I run to lose mySelf. I run to run.

COVID19 in-house Day 43: Normal? Who Needs It!

Today's gratitude letter is "y".

I was going to make "y" stand for "Yes!". I was going to write about acceptance. The beautiful messages behind the rainbows and "ça va bien aller". How we need to submit to the reality we are living, gracefully. How the very act of being grateful for what we have is a radical act.

Yes, this is all true.

But what about the "why" of Y? 

This crisis is giving some of us an unprecedented opportunity to ask "why"? Of course, people who are struggling to avoid violence, feed their families, and find shelter do not have the luxury of asking thoughtful questions. Their struggle is real, and it is getting more extreme the longer the pandemic forces them to stay home, or gives their oppressors a chance to exert power over them.

But many of us can, and should, ask why. I don't mean the little "whys". The questions about the details of our lives: the legislations, the rules, the changes, even the source of the virus and why it is happening now, in our lifetime ... these are important questions, to be sure.

Our lives right now are handing us a golden opportunity to ask WHY? What habits have I been living my life by, that I now have an opportunity to examine? What decisions have I made over the years that have left me feeling uncomfortable, and why did I make those decisions? Why have I not done what I considered to be the right thing? Why do I continue to live a life that I do not love and cherish? What is stopping me from changing my life, radically, if I decide that I want to pursue a different path? After all, we have just proven to ourselves, over the past few weeks and months, that we can actually make radical changes in our lives and still be happy, and creative, and productive.

Why would we want to go back to the old normal? Why would we want to get back on to the rat track, the spinning wheel of busyness where we don't see each other very often, we never eat together at home, we don't have time to cook, or clean, or spend time with our children, or sit and think and stare at the sky. 

I'm not talking about deciding to start a whole career change, at fifty, because you're bored. That's the easy way out. I'm talking about the more difficult questions: What does it mean that I have children and how much time to I really want to spend with them? How is it possible for me to live with this romantic partner for our whole lives if I can't stand to be stuck in the house with them for longer than a few weeks? What are my coping strategies and how self-destructive are they?  

What if you find out that you actually love staying home and you want to figure out a way to do so? What if you realize that you always find the most miserable approach to any stressful situation? What if you find out that you don't actually love being around people? What if you know, finally, what you've always wanted to do? And now that your mortality has suddenly become a little closer, you realize that you are just going to do it. 

Or not. You may decide to sit on the knife edge for the duration. Constantly reaching crossroads that you don't know how to navigate. Shooting from the hip, saying things out of turn, making new enemies and friends at the drop of a hat. 

You may decide you have had enough, that as soon as this is over (What is "this"?) you will head out, leave everyone behind, change your name and never come back. 

You may realize that everything you've been doing so far is an illusion; that life is suffering; that you have no use; that the world will continue without you as it always has. 

Think about it: what do you want to do? Shall we return to "normal"? Or shall we try to create something from nothing? 

All questions; no answers. I've never been one to tell people what to do; I was a hands-off midwife, always turning the questions of "what should I do?" back to the person asking, so that she could learn her true path. Because, really, you are the midwife of your own life. I am just here to remind you that NOW is the time that you can grasp on to a new way of being. Our window is only open for a little while. Far too soon, the world will be with us again, with its temptations of consuming and rushing and giving away our freedom. 

What shall we do?

Happiness

It was field hockey at a grammar school in east London that turned my mother off organized sports, and I inherited her dislike of all things “gym” for many years. The good news was that I grew up close to the Rockies and so spent much of my spare time hiking in those lovely mountains, running up and down trails like a mountain goat.

I also played the clarinet, and for fun my music teacher would get us to lie down and put heavy dictionaries on our bellies and teach us to breathe with our diaphragms. As an adult I kept myself fit: for many years I hauled cement, small children, water and wood and as we renovated and ran an old farm in Italy.

But years later, I started running. My sister took me for a run one day and I was hooked! I had run a little before then, around a park, wearing unsuitable clothing and big old tennis shoes. In 2012, just after my father died, I went for my first real run. In 2014, after my mother also passed away, I decided to try a race. In 2015 I ran my first half and since then I have run several races, and I try to run at least two or three times a week. I did a half last year on my 60^th, beating my PR by four minutes at 2:33.

Its not quantity that matters, though, with running.  That’s the beauty of the sport. Its what you do with it, how you incorporate running into your life, and what you learn from those hours on your own or with friends, moving quickly through your world, conscious of every footfall.

Everything I’ve learned running can be applied to life itself.

What have I learned?

I learned about gratitude. I’ve learned that every run is a gift; my health is a gift; every full breath I take is a gift.

I’ve learned to accept my body, which I used to look upon with disappointment and disdain. It may not be perfect, but its still running after all these years!

I learned about competition. Every runner has a competitive streak, even if you’re just competing against yourself. Healthy competition is good; comparing yourself constantly against an ideal or another person is useless.

I learned about play. Running is fun! It’s great to run through the world, by myself or with my friends or my dog. Loving what I see and what I feel.

I learned discipline. The act of lacing my shoes and piling on the layers, when it is -16 outside and a light snow blowing can be an act of defiance. Running that extra few kilometers when I’m done and I want to eat and drink is a lesson. I can use that strength when life is not going exactly the way I want it to. I can breathe and keep my mouth shut and think good thoughts.

And I’ve learned that its not “running” that taught me: it was me! I ran all those kilometers, I trained my self to be disciplined about it, I worked on strength and speed, I got up early to run before work. I rested when I had to, and learned to eat better.

The biggest lesson, though, has been about happiness. You take it where you can find it, just like you go for a run wherever and whenever you can. And guess what, I’m happy!   

Guess why I am grateful for "R"?

I just love running. I LOVE running. I am so grateful that my body lets me do this amazing activity.

Why do I run? My childhood was active, I guess. No organized sports but lots of hiking, skiing and cycling. Then in my thirties I built stone houses, ran a market garden, carried children around, in short I was pumped, more or less. I could rip open a fifty k bag of cement and throw it in the cement mixer, then haul bucket after bucket up to my partner on the roof. I could kill ten chickens with a single swipe of my cleaver. Kidding.


I love getting up in the morning and knowing that I am going for a run today. I love getting my gear ready, my shoes, my special clothes, my handkerchief, iphone, all good. I love getting out the door. And then I am free! My heart beats, my breath comes slow and natural, my legs move back and forth, my brain quiets.

Then I hit my two k slump, but it doesn't last long ... back in the saddle, the weather is good, and its always good when I'm running, possibly cold or hot but I feel good! Then I hit my 6 k slump ... a little tougher ...

We did it!!!

However long I run for, I am always happy I've gone. My face starts smiling when I see the world going by. My thoughts calm themselves. My worries and doubts, my monsters, my evil eyes, they all pass by and I keep on running, breathing, running, breathing.

There's a thing called the PR in running. It's a wonderful concept: PR stands for Personal Record, which is what you are running for (or against). You aren't running against other people's best times, just your own. There's only you and your achievements when you are running, at least thats the way I feel. Even when I ran my first half, I still was absolutely thrilled that I made it in the time I did (2 hours 37min), because for me it was an achievement ... for myself.

So, if you see me out there running one day, know that the main emotion I am feeling is one of gratitude. Thank you, body, for keeping me on the track!