Dragging my Dharma: Sunday long run 4-28-13

I find my momentum in life mirrors running.  During the week I begin with my 'Monday warm-up' at work,  organizing for the week,  my first clients and group, head into the meat of the week as things get busier and I work at keeping my pace, with the crescendo of Friday and Saturday as I round out all the efforts I have put into 'Life as Counselor'.  Saturdays I flop into the rest of the weekend as if I have just crossed a finish line: tired and triumphant all at once!

Today,  as I found myself cruising up onto the usual Griffin loop,  I felt relatively 'unconscious' for the most part, at least the first miles,  still stuck in my dreaming head and feeling my body protest the sudden exertion after several days off the roads.  Strong spring winds cut through the intense sun,  and the vivid colors of Nature began to bring me into the present moment, as I rounded out at Ravenswood.  I was listening to the morphing of Krishna Das on Pandora and trying to pinpoint where my brain kept getting lost in the threads of my concerns.   Where one item popped up with excitement, another would come with dread.  I could hardly contain my satisfaction for 'job well done' this week, while feeling the walls building up at home.

I am obsessed with this notion of our dharmic burden.  The 'life path' we are compelled to walk which is at once so wonderfully in- and out- of our (perceived) control.  I have some sort of knack for 'entraining' into this pattern with others:  I think this is why I am good at therapy.  The artist in me is already tuned in, so I simply 'shift' into a concentrated focus on what I can 'see' is going on with another.  

When I attempt to gain this same awareness for myself,  I can find myself circling around in the morphic field of All Possibilities and Things....a decidedly difficult distraction that can come from the right brain's huge Gestalt.   Some times we need to get specific: and that is hard to do without also adding the left brain's constant editorializing of everying, and the 'opinions' of ego which show up as "good", "bad" labels.

I walked the last few miles, dropping down out of 35th St.,  proud to pull off the run, but realizing I had a ways to go still from home.   In no hurry,  I meandered through Emerald Hills and just wanted to LOOK at everything:

...as suddenly the sheer beauty of the light, colors and movement in the wind caught me in the Shift, and brought me the precious Peace I was seeking all along.

I come away as I do almost always, with the message that Mother Gaia so loves and supports us, She will find any means possible to connect with us.  She will storm the walls of our hearts,  hurl past our preconceptions,  even pounce on us with all her elements, just to reach our senses.   Lucky me:  I see Her even if it takes some miles to get there.

Earth Day Every Day

Life continues to take on surreal layers of ultra-meaning.  Acts of violence, acts of kindness,  while Earth Herself shimmies and shakes, as if in an attempt to slough off the detritus of all this uncertainty.   The little 'h' human in us attempts to find balance and stability in the midst of huge waves of change,  and in the end are left to wonder how to maintain our own idea- a semblance- of our lives....

When I woke for Sunday's long run,  I had a map in my head of rounding up on the big Griffin loop.  As I headed out the door,  a persistent light rain kept my jacket on until I came up into Emerald Hills, and a slight sun came out.   I felt 'out of my body'....tired, confused...and yet with every step felt myself tuning more and more into the lush Nature all around me.   At the corner of 56th, where I normally take the cut up to Griffin that old loose yellow dog was wandering about.  My dog phobia quickly set in and instead I kept west,  up the 441 overpass, cutting through the Seminoles and still west to avoid their security gate...
A few walk breaks now and then between my methodical gait, as I rounded back onto Sheridan to walk into sweet little John Williams park.

Suddenly that surreal feeling came full on:  I couldn't see a person, dog, car or living creature amidst the small grove of southern oaks,  spread across the heavy skies,  enveloping me in their furry arms while I took a few minutes to absorb their splendor.  The solace I get from Nature soothes my every human confusion as if Gaia Herself understands everything I am.  Emotions were gathered in the beauty of Her display, and with a good swig of water I took off for the easterly route home.

There isn't a one of us stumbling somewhat in the dark right now.   And that's understandable, as We have never been here before,  this strange mix of so much exhilaration with so much pain.   We careen from day to day like drunken soldiers,  glad to be home from the wars,  meanwhile gearing up to do it all over again.   And yet the simple act of 'one foot in front of the other',  like a physical mantra that goes beyond the chatter in my head serves to bring it all back to basic balance...I keep moving,  I keep running,  I keep following the thread of my own emotions until there are no more feelings left, and I am another part of the Whole,  a piece of the Big Picture breathing the Life of things inside myself.

Don't allow anyone to tell you grief, or sadness or confusion is somehow 'wrong'.   We are impressed with these experiences from layers of our lives beyond our comprehension,  and impelled to process them one by one, or sometimes in noisy bunches, like runners on the course making their way down the road.  We try to pretend we 'have it all together' while secretly watching our lives fall like the petals of blossoms off the spring trees.  Nature keeps telling me, 'no matter'.   To live, breathe and move through the feelings is all She needs.  And I have learned to listen. 

Boston: We Love You

The greatest stressors on race day are usually weather and temps,  getting up ridiculously early to prepare and get into the starting corrals, having everything you need,  dealing with the crowds and transportation, and fighting your own expectations.  I'm sure as this group of elites ran through their early miles all they focused on was pace and time, pace and time....getting into the groove that will eat up the road in a quick and steady cadence through the finish line.

The last mile or so until the finish,  where the bombs went off,  was full of runners in Boston.  The 4-ish hours finish time is a good average;  many marathoners come in around 3- 4+ hours,  and the chute with spectators on each side were full of people.  Runners grasping for their last bit of energy into the line;  spectators cheering them on...families, babies, moms and dads.  If you've run a marathon, then you know:  there is nothing more celebratory than what happens as folks come in. 

My supervisor and I got the news at work, about the same time.  She ran Boston 3 years ago and is from there;  so distraught after trying to reach family,  she left.  I felt a surreal shock settle on me, as I kept trying to focus on clients and work....strangely,  it almost seemed as if the world had caught its collective breath as we all looked at each other asking the question:  "how does this happen??"

The old races,  Boston and NYC,  are the pinnacle of any runner's resume'.  From now on,  everyone running yesterday's marathon will know it as "the year of the bombing."   From now on,  running a marathon - or any sporting event- will come with much added security and questions and trepidations....as we all become targets for some one else's violent revenge.

I ran a modest out and back this morning,  not feeling particularly energetic,  my soul all bound up in the feelings of deep grief we in the running world,  and the world at large, are feeling.   Yes it is one more in a long string of violent events.   And yes each time, we feel the shock and surprise.  But running is our precious birthright,  this simple thing we do that gives us solace and solitude,  community and camaraderie,  peace and health all at once.  I ran and prayed.   I thanked my legs for bringing me this far.  I thanked the road for being safe, and prayed all our roads remain safe.   I thought about the families, the dead,  the maimed;  I imagined legions of angels at our disposal helping, giving hope back to every runner who, like me,  put on their shoes and ran today.  I knew every footfall was my confirmation that I strive, maintain,  persevere, and make a mark by simply being alive. 
Mostly I prayed for a world where such things become a distant memory told to children about how the world changed to become a better place.

Keep running.

Split Runs; Wrapping it up- for Now

After no long run last weekend,  I split my usual Sunday run between yesterday and today. Heading back to John Lloyd today,  a kind of 'do-over' from Saturday, improved weather and other emotional conditions aside, and a chance to once more this weekend run the out and back.  And again,  noticing that reducing miles and increasing calories has helped me on the road.   Even if vanity disagrees,  I really needed the break. 

 There were rose petals strewn towards the water's edge; something took place yesterday.....

....and fishing off both sides of the jetty in water that looked emerald, steely blue and turquoise all at once....

and happy families generally enjoying the beautiful day.   As long as I ran I felt I could work out anything;  the fatigue, uncertainty,  anxiety,  the persistent press of ticking time towards 'real world' problems and the ever-vexing pressures of work.   I could even feel my way through the intricacies of emotional triggers as one by one I could click them off a list:  money, sex, gender roles....power/control....how do we help ourselves and each other without taking away pride, dignity, self-respect.   Every one is topsy-turvy.  And yet, as always I found that sweet spot about 3 miles in, after the turn back, when my feet just felt like they had a mind of their own, picking up a tiny bounce and roll off the road that gave everything a lift....  my spirit finally peeking through the tallest perspective like the prows of the big cruise ships above the treeline.   It's all rolling itself out like a long lonely road,  too long alone until the whole pack of us, runners, bladers, bikers, walkers and lookers....and all the frolicking, foolish, gullible, mis-guided lot of us,  stumble on down together.   It never amazes me how wonderful it always is, whatever we find. 

Springing into the New

I am a notoriously poor traveler;  my body,  which I work so hard to regulate,  disagrees with moving conveyances.  A runner puts on a pair of shoes and takes off with a firm pit-pat...all the while grounded to Mother Earth.   Planes are mysterious, and semi-torturous; I lose gyroscope, the energy seems to suck out of me, I'm hot/cold/tired...and nauseous.  Every time it bumps or moves I instinctively reach for anything to brace myself as we seem to free-fall through space.  And yet,  as I watched out the window as the plane tucked itself between the cloud layers,  finding its lane down the eastern seaboard and over the Atlantic, I felt myself floating between realities:  my old life in the Valley, and kids in DC, and my life in Florida.  The me that gathered at the farm Saturday with all my extended spiritual family;  the mom me,  grandma and mother-in-law me...the elder me with the Wangs feeling my way into the new matrix of Fairfax and all the comings and goings of generation #3. 

                                               I walked straight back into an entirely new arrangement of 

my self-concept in Florida too.  Without warning,  dreams and seeds planted long ago took sudden root.  

No amount of 'not ready',  'haven't prepared',  self-doubts of any sort were to survive the onslaught of blossoming.  As I took my first few runs this week,  Mother Nature seemed to convey this Abundance of Riches and to remind me:  it took a lot of SHIT to make this happen. 

The dharma we all carry to come closer and clearer to our true selves is so precise;  the only way I can see this one is some miles out on the road,  away from pressures, with a nice
little rhythm to the gait to entrain my brain away from negative speculation.  After all,  it only feels impossible until we break through the barrier- the ground, the deadwood,  the fatigue....one day we turn around and find exactly what we said we always wanted.

I'm glad Florida still has surprises for me, and this generosity is a sign of things to come.  New things come with adjustments.   We are creatures of habit and sometimes changing things up is exactly what needs to happen.  What remains the same is the nimble focus;  for remember it may ask you to push a little,  suck some wind....we all stretch ourselves each time the paradigm shifts.  But this is how we grow into the beautiful creatures we become...
little by little until we are full of sunlight and perfumed like the gods. 

     I have every confidence that somehow in this Dance of ours,  good things will come.  And I feel this because in Mother's Garden,  there are no rejected parts.  There are intricacies and necessities.  And in the end it's a fantastic beautiful mess!

Smile at it,  laugh with it,  cry if you need to.  Just remember to look around-

you will be convinced that everything must play its part.