practice

We know the absolute value of it for our children. Practice, practice, practice. Math or music or handwriting. Memorizing, anything. Sports. Languages.

As adults, it seems harder to practice. Things move more along the lines of instant gratification, impatience for results, and, ultimately, abandonment of objectives. Hey, we’re busy people.

The thing is, though, practice makes some pretty damned amazing things possible, even for us grown-ups. There are things we think we can’t do that, in reality, just take practice.

I spent most of my life never having run a mile. Or a quarter mile. Never even really thought about running, or would have thought it was possible.

Until the day I wanted it enough that I started to practice.

Writing is like that, too. Writing – certainly good writing – does not just happen. It takes practice.

Meditation? When you finally, really practice, that’s when you begin to realize the effects.

There are about a zillion things to do on this amazing earth. Why settle for ‘same old, same old’ when we are capable of so much more if we just put in the effort? Practice.

Self talk is a practice, too. Either we’re telling ourselves every damned day that we can, that we’re capable, that we’re deserving, that we will, or we’re telling ourselves we’re not good enough, we can’t, and it’s impossible. That’s neuroplasticity at work. It’s learning. What would you rather teach yourself?

I am reminded of the power of practice in a drawing class I’ve been taking. It’s pretty basic stuff. We started off with the blind contour drawing, and we’re progressing with more detail and layers. Each time I am faced with the blank sheet of paper and the assigned exercise, I panic inside. I resist. “I can’t!”

But I can. It’s just a matter of practice. And it is so empowering to be reminded of that.

I have long believed it true: anything is possible. Commitment first. Then, practice.

What is it you are waiting to learn?

 

the power of dreams

A man told me a story once. Jack was in a wheelchair, having suffered an accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down. He told me that, after his accident, he became profoundly depressed.

A therapist asked him to remember what his dreams used to be. At first, he couldn’t recall any dreams. Then, at his therapist’s urging, he remembered that many, many years ago he used to dream of learning to fly. The therapist encouraged him to chase that dream, in spite of his depression.

Jack started to take flying lessons even though he had little interest. He just went through the motions at his therapist’s persistence.

Eventually, though, it began to click.

He not only learned to fly, he got his own plane, took folks up in it for discovery flights, served as the president of his local flying group, and founded a nonprofit. In the process, he completely overcame the depression and did not allow his disability to stand in the way of living a life. In fact, he was a very active guy and looked pretty darned happy to me.

I always remember Jack and his story.

Our dreams are so powerful. And yet, we so frequently just shelve them as unrealistic, or too expensive, or ridiculous in the eyes of other people. But we ignore our dreams at our peril – for our dreams are the key to the doorway of our soul, and the secret of making ourselves whole.

I remind myself of Jack because once again I must look at the way I’ve ignored some of my own dreams. They are hard to recall – just like Jack first responded to his therapist’s queries. And yet, I suspect, those hazy, forgotten dreams are just as essential as ever.

I don’t care how kooky they may be, I really have nothing to lose by going for them.

And that would, of course, be the thing, to finally go for them.

chilly run

I admit it. I really kind of had to fight with myself today to get outside and run. But, hey, it was so worth it!

At issue was the temperature. It was below freezing.

Even though I fully expect to run through at least most of the winter with lower temperatures than this, I looked at the temp this morning and was just. not. feeling. it.

I put my running gear on anyway. Laced up.

Then, I proceeded to mill around my place, finding a variety of tasks to facilitate my procrastination.

I eventually noticed it, bucked up, and headed out.

Even though we had quite a snow yesterday, the sidewalks and streets were clear. Yay! 

My gear was just right, and I didn’t even go through that awful frozen-at-the-start phase. I felt pretty good.

First thing I noticed was a snow fort. Haven’t seen one of those in years, and it was awesome to see that some kids were inspired by the snow to build one yesterday. Totally cool.

As I passed the snow fort and headed along, a man approached me rather deliberately. He wanted to know how to find the soup kitchen.

Made me thoughtful about other folks’ struggles, especially in this cold season.

Even though the sidewalks seemed clear, I studied the pavement as I trotted along, checking for ice or slippery patches where the leaves were still piled up. I broke my shoulder a couple of years ago, and really don’t want to repeat that experience!

For all my resistance, the weather actually felt good. It went from cloudy to flurries to sunshine and back to cloudy while I ran. The cold made me keep on at a decent clip. It was invigorating.

I was having so much fun that I spontaneously broke out into song. Funny part was that it was my count I was singing. One thousand one, one thousand two, etc. up and down and all around the scale. Go figure.

Four miles down and I headed for home, feeling awesome.

Chilly? Bah!

wind run

I don’t know why a windy run always takes me by surprise, but it does.

Yesterday’s run reminded me, again, all about wind. There’s all that resistance as you’re heading into it, and the pleasant relief of turning a corner and feeling it swoosh in behind you as if you are suddenly light.

For just a moment, it reminded me of my sailing days of long ago, tacking into the wind, making slow progress but getting there nonetheless – or the pleasant rush of a downwind run, maybe wing-on-wing or with a spinnaker.

As I was running, several flocks of geese passed overhead. I waved and called out, “Bon voyage!” I doubt they heard me, though, because they were going fast on the wind – like Mach 5 fast. It was crazy.

For a minute, it made me want to fly. I felt as if I almost could, and I flapped my arms a bit as I ran. Just as quickly, I realized, I am pretty happy just the way I am. I must have been going downwind right then.

The leaves were blowing everywhere as I trotted along. The wind has done a good job of undressing the trees. There were huge heaps of color here and there wherever I went. Many of the trees are already bare, but there are still quite a few blazing with colors from green to yellow to orange to red.

I am planning to do a 5k next month. I say this because I realized as I was running yesterday that I have very conveniently failed to sign up for said run so far. This is a clear sign that I am leaving myself the option of NOT doing the run. If I am leaving myself that option, there’s a very good possibility that underneath all my good intentions is yet another intention to not make the run. Why is that, anyway?

It’s good to sign up, and shoot for a goal. To try and do better than you did the last time. To show up, anyway. It makes you work harder as you prepare for the event. So I’ll sign up tomorrow. I will.

I really will.

Oh, and a little update. My new running shoes? They are absolutely awesome!! And the little twinge that was beginning to bother me in my left knee? What do you know – it’s all good now. Shoes make a difference. Lesson learned!

Antiwar/Peace initiative gears up this weekend

Peace. What a concept.

This weekend, anti-war activist Cindy Sheehan and many other peace-minded souls are participating in the Women’s March on the Pentagon.  The event brings focus to the wars and militarism that we fund and in which we participate around the world. It shines a light on the many ways our rampant militarism negatively impacts us, others, and the earth.

It’s time to rethink all that. It’s long overdue, even as our Congress has yet again just recently funded those operations to the tune of $700 billion with bipartisan support. And for so many folks, the media circus prevents us from even really noticing that mind-numbing budget or all that is going on in our name and with our tax dollars.

The Women’s March on the Pentagon hopes to raise the visibility of destructive militarism, and to turn our heads towards peace. On their website, they describe their genesis:

In response to the continuing march of military aggression by the USA and to put an antiwar agenda back on the table of activists, we are calling for a Women’s (and allies) March on the Pentagon on the 51st anniversary of the 1967 big antiwar event in Washington D.C. and subsequent march on the Pentagon that had 50,000 people!

The initiative seeks to end the wars abroad, close foreign bases, and dramatically slash the Pentagon budget to fund healthy social programs at home.

I checked to see if there might be some local events held in concert with the one in DC. Here in Michigan, crickets. (And I didn’t get my act together in time to organize anything.) Nor was it easy to find mention of the event.

However, here in Michigan, we do have the Michigan/Michigan State football game today. The Ann Arbor stadium averages over 112,000 people in attendance for one of these autumn matchups.

Imagine if 112,000 people got together to raise their voices for peace.

Instead, that throng of people will watch as the padded and helmeted players take the field, playing offense and defense in a startlingly obvious metaphor for military battle. The marching band with its militaristic drumming, formations, and flag-waving waits in the wings for halftime. People cheer for the fight, singing what’s aptly known as a fight song.

“Hail to the victors valiant. Hail to the conquering heroes….” as I recall from my days there.

Similar scenes play out in stadiums all over the United States, over and over again.

If only we could generate that kind of enthusiasm in the name of PEACE!

You go, Cindy and the other peace leaders in DC today! I hope that this weekend’s event gets some visibility and traction, and that more and more people wake up and hop on the peace train. I am on board.

remembering who you are – the toolbox

I still struggle against unhealthy patterns learned early on in life and in a long-term abusive relationship. The objective is always to remember who I am, and to honor that. That’s not always as easy as it might sound.

There’s been a tremendous amount of work and education sorting it out. Along this journey, I’ve realized there are a few essential things that facilitate the process in a practical way – my tools, if you will.

My toolbox contains six go-to items that reliably help me remember who I am. I try to ‘touch’ my tools every day. (As a quilter, I remember a maxim that one should at least touch their current quilting project every day. The logic was that if you took time out to stop and touch your project, you couldn’t help but be drawn in to working on it no matter how busy or crazy your day was.)

So here are the tools in my toolbox right now:

• Write

Writing is essential to me, whether I am journaling or writing for publication. The act of writing helps me to process and organize thoughts, to explore issues, and to connect. I write lots of different ways. Even when I am not writing, I am making notes. Writing also relates to photography, making me more aware of what I see in a day, and what matters to me.

• Run

If I’m not running, or at least walking, it is a clear signal that I have shut the door on my self. Running is an amazing gateway to remembering who I am. It is a meditative process which engages my body and all its memories. When I run, I am very present. I am able to quiet the noise of the inner critic, and to just see what’s there. I am so grateful to have discovered this tool. It is indispensable.

• Make

Creativity is at the core of who I am. This relates to writing, but it also relates to hands-on, tactile creative acts. I learned to sew when I was 12 years old, and the process of creating things from textiles has been a part of me ever since. Pen and ink is another medium to which I am always drawn. Building things, using tools, always satisfies. I love to express and to give through creative acts, but this is an area into which it is often very difficult to allow myself.

• Nature

Oddly, it took me awhile to recognize my real need to be in nature. Nature is absolutely restorative. It brings me back to one. All of my running and walking is done outside, which is part of the reason it is such a profoundly centering experience. I love to feel the wind, the rain, the snow. I love the trees, the birds, the wooly bears, the Monarchs. When I am in nature, I am home.

• Nourish

If one honors one self, this most basic act of properly nourishing one’s self must be addressed. I have noticed that, like running, when I stop eating and hydrating well, I have turned away from remembering who I am. It is, obviously, fundamental. This is a far more complicated topic than it might appear, because it touches on so many big issues from physical to spiritual, environmental, gender, ethics, and more.

• Connect

Given the destructive patterns established early on for me, I struggle with connection. I do find ways to connect through all the other tools in the box, though. For example, at times, when I may have difficulty actually connecting with other people around me, I may connect by writing and/or publishing. I recognize, nevertheless, how important it is to be connected with other folks and with my self.  It is something at which I must consciously and deliberately work since my self has learned so well to simply hide. Running, creating, hiking, food are avenues to connection. I stay mindful of this. I am gentle with myself about this, though. This tool is not always easy to use, but it’s essential. Spiritual connection is also integral to, well, everything.

There’s a lot more I could say about each one of these areas.

One of my little ‘grounding’ reminders is to sort of count off my first five tools on the fingers of my hand – write, run, make, nature, nourish. Then, I put my hand against my heart to remember: ‘connect’. My little mantra helps to remind me that I have these tools, and to look for ways to employ them each day.

When I honor who I am, I am the best I can be for others.

What’s in your toolbox?