Surge of Self Love

It was chillier and windier than I expected this morning;  I was momentarily caught off guard until I began my brisk walk up to my start point, where the road cuts off the main drag into the quiet neighborhoods and I actually begin the run.  As I got going, slow, slow, I noticed how patches of sunlight would create puddles of warmth my body would relax into, before pushing off into the next stretch of chilly shade.   Like stepping stones in water, I found myself instinctively watching for these areas, and enjoyed the revolution of warm, cool, warm as I got a rhythm going towards Griffin.

It was the 3rd day of a 3 day stretch.  An experiment, since I sit so much at work, I am playing with the idea of limiting the time off in order to create the 'expectation' in my body that we will move in some form or fashion, long or short, walk or run.  If you do not have a moving practice, you are missing the greatest tool for mind/body/spirit there is.  I have more than my share of insecurities, body issues,  as the 'anti-athlete', the 'shlubby girl' who knew more about paints and books than any sport.  Over these years of running I have reconnected with very old parts of myself, the child who trekked all around our neighborhood trails and back woods, the young adult always looking for a new walk, route or path into the areas I've lived. 

The appreciation I sometimes feel for my body is beyond the practical goals of weight maintenance, miles per week,  or racing.  As I stretched before today's run, I felt a surge of love for these many parts which can work together in such flawless harmony to take me on these jaunts and enjoy the wonder and beauty of the world.  To see with the eyes of my inner artist,  in which inherent synchronicity is expressed through the essence of things,  and perceived with loving acknowledgment is certainly the secret to my motivation.  I am never disappointed by the Light, the soft air, the colors of Life.  There is a dialogue in my head between the outer and inner and often, on the run, I can feel it's rhythm come right up through my feet as I listen to the swoosh swoosh of Nature's words.

The World is in love with us;  can we be in Love with the World?  Take yourself out to the heart of Nature and listen.  She's there.

The Bridge to Spring

While much of the country is hunched into the latest blast of Winter with a Capital WOW, I took a relaxed walk at the park in weather that felt like winter has never been here;  warm, breezy, bright....
the benefit of living in sub-tropic clime.  Ground hog's day, Imbolc, the Bridge to Spring as the mid-point between winter solstice and spring equinox is marked in many places and probably dates back to cyclical eras beyond memory.  Meanwhile, in our time, the World continues to wobble along a fractured sense of constancy.  What we come to expect from one season to the next is revised in the pressure of change.   Just when you think Mother Nature cannot out-do Herself, prepare to be surprised.  As I heard in the news:  "When the meteorologists are taken by surprise, you know something extraordinary is happening."

I've had several hard runs lately, so today's easy jaunt around the park was a chance to just let my body unwind.  After a little yoga, I sat on the bank of the lake and meditated to Tom Kenyon's soundscapes, and felt the woosh of the winds all around, sweeping the molecules from me, into the Breath of Earth, something I could feel and see with my inner eye.

Cracking open this old shell of repression, into a new world is full upon us.  Never before have I felt the push to 'pick sides', to assist my clients in clarifying what they fight for when they fight for their very lives.  In the swirl of intensity which calls us to ever greater clarity in every day life, standing firm in our Intent for what we are about is being exemplified all across the globe;  where the Old Guard once pressed the people down, the People are now rising up.   Surely, if our brothers and sisters can risk everything for freedom, we can do the same.

Today, I dedicate the excitement of Life, the purpose of my path, to sparking the light of purpose and meaning for all...the Bridge to Spring is a way laid for us by Those who went before us, and know it is high time to get on our Way.

Fluctuations

Like shifting sands in changing landscapes, the force of my will and emotions keeps oscillating between points of time.  Never sure from one minute to the next if I'm standing stable on my own Self platform, or flying into a dreamworld where every thread of my history seems to be trying to work itself out.

For the first time this week, a dream about Mom and Dad, together, hanging out with the rest of the players in the plot, easy, smiley, clearly reflecting the grace I imagine they share in their mutual transition.  The assumption of my own constant state of transition is itself in question:  even the usual outcomes of potentials for the future seem fragile, as if any movement could dislodge the one thing that will anchor me.

I ran long on Sunday, maybe the best and longest run in a while.  The weather and other disruptions have kept me from the roads since.  Today I managed a 4+ miler on the treadmill, which was much tougher than I anticipated.  Miami marathon takes place this Sunday coming, and no I am not participating.  My hope is to take myself out for a run in homage to the event and the runners who are putting themselves on the line, and find my own route through the inconsistency of my efforts.  One day, some way, I will resurrect the runner in me who feels stronger and better with every run.  But that time does not seem to be now.

When the world talks to us, we seem to pick up the words, images and signs which reflect our inner yearnings and unfolding.  Lately its been this theme of fluctuations, ebbs, flows, contractions and expansions.  We come to expect the rhythm as something we should recognize, control.  When the speed goes out of our range or understanding we experience it as chaos, distress, discomfort.  I hope I am learning to pause just long enough to appreciate the rate of change as a Rhythm outside my current capacity to encompass.  I like the idea that a Song is being sung of us, our world, and leading us like a Pied Piper to, not illusion, but transcendence.   Every moment seems rich in potential;  the delicate balance of staying awake and aware to the Center which holds us feels even more important.  And I somehow feel supported by the swoosh of nothing at all.

Doors Open

I made sure to take myself up on the Griffin loop, to prepare for returning to work and the routines of the week, and mostly to settle my mind and nerves for the transition.  Running is the great 'oxygenator';  it washes the system in the subtle euphoria of movement and air, and gives me freedom from the clunky reality of the 3-D world.  I had several nice stretches, completely non-logical- for after several weeks of inconsistent running which came with Mom's passing, you would think I would have much less endurance.

I don't get the sense that there is any particular trauma associated with Mom's transition, unlike my Dad who really went through a lot those last months.  I think all in all Mom had it together and was finally ready to go.  What she leaves is the sudden reality of our orphaned state and the mandate for us, the next generation of elders to take our formal place. 

For me, it is the end of the primary purpose to my move to Florida.  From 1999 until now, and most especially the last 3-4 years, my life was the safety net for my folks, and my role became ever more involved as their condition deteriorated.  For the first time in my working career, I am approaching the Open Door of possibility, knowing my own kin, my blood and spiritual families, are solid in their own directions. 

I will not pretend to know which direction, yet, calls me.  With the approach of ever more remarkable and creative shake-ups, and the volume turned up for those of us who can 'hear' the vibrational shifts,  I will begin as I would at any choice point; I will pray.

My honored mother and father, you who are now part of the legacy of ancestors, joining with the rest of my blood and soul family to link us, the living, with the power of Life on all planes:  May your healing rest bring you to your own next place of evolution, and as you continue, place us in your hearts to lead and guide us through the times ahead.  I can sense your Love all around.... be at peace, my dear ones.  Shed light on the soft dark corners of confusion, and allow us all to be right where we need to be.

Chapters Close/Open: RIP Mom

This is the 4th time I've tried to write this..its early morning 1-1-11, and I couldn't sleep.  I wanted to get an homage up for Mom before I lost steam...already lost my earlier entries, so here goes again:

Alice M Kaufman Cowen, born Feb 20, 1921, died Dec 31, 2010.  She was just shy of the New Year, and her 90th birthday.  What began as 'trouble breathing' became her door out, and she did it pretty peacefully.  

This is her High School photo.  My mom, always the beauty.  Last visit she said to me "I was the smart one."  Beauty and brains.  The entire dynamic of our relationship has been how 2 similarly smart women were defined by their generations.  For Mom it was marriage, 4 kids, 9 grandchildren and 4 great-grandchildren, various job/career attempts, and her vast connection to her large extended family and circle of friends.  Many of whom still kept up about her right to the end.   My mom who survived my dad, her sisters and all other elder relatives, the last.   She admired my independence.  I couldn't fathom her patience with things I came to admire after her stroke.  Last visit we agreed "I guess we gotta go with the flow."

The nurse told me that moment of clarity is very common, a last rally.  I'm glad I got to share it;  I had her focus in the ER before I realized finally that the fixed stare had not moved...and it was only a matter of time between then and her final passing in a bed upstairs.

I write this because its cathartic for me, and for the out of towners who may not make it in.  I write, too, just to extend the time a bit to be with her and by extension my dad, who I imagine are enjoying a well-deserved reunion.  We said goodbye to Vitae this year too, so I can add the reassurance of an extra guiding hand if needed.

Alice Cowen, you lived a very long and productive life.  You braved through trials and tribulations that those in my generation would hardly handle- you taught me how to accept and embrace life no matter what.  We wish you safe and swift travels on your spirit journey, dearest soul.  I stand with all my family members and your vast circle of friend, in wishing you Welcome Home.....!  Go and lay down all your pain and burdens.  You are Free at last.

Love you always Mom....
xoxoxoxoxo

Cold Run

We broke heat records this past summer;  we are breaking cold records now.   Not sure what the low was last night;  I had it in mind to run no matter, so I didn't really care either way.  The photo shows just some of the ridiculous measures I have to go through...long tights, tank, long-sleeve micro tee, fleece hoody and over all that a wind-breaker.  And gloves.  And ear protectors.  As I set out, I took my time walking to get my legs to warm up.  There is something about rolling out of a warm bed, and into a frigid morning which challenges the strongest commitment.  At the same time, with my hood around my head, the music from my ipod made me feel as if I was sunk deep into a cocoon of sound.  The strange, mystical quality of it all was enticing.  And such is the motivation which leads me on...

I had plenty of chances to amend the plan.  Somehow it felt right to run up to the Winn-Dixie as my pit-stop, then on to the 'T' at 56th to meander down, across Sheridan to pick up Thomas home.  It may have been a pretty modest 5+ miler, but somewhere on the 56th St. stretch I began to have that niggling feeling of timelessness that comes with The Zone, and a nice rhythm to my gait.  The compression tights feel wonderful:  they really help support the legs, keep out the chill, and help me sustain what would otherwise be more difficult stretches.  Too bad there isn't something for warm weather, but that is a fantasy for another season.

The week of settling into our new offices demand I keep myself balanced with enough Nature to remind me, 'this is not my whole life.'  What I don't like about the new building is its fortress-like feel.  Once inside the warren of hallways and offices, stairwells and cameras,  we scurry like hamsters around invisible hurdles and wheels trying to get our jobs done.  I have a window, and a decent view of a not so decent neighborhood (so my clients tell me, and they know!).  But the moment I get to leave, the air seems to flood back into my lungs with relief.

There is something about the open air I have always craved; even as a child, never changing through every chapter of my life, whether stuck inside jails, other institutions and offices, or living on the land.  Running satisfies my need to be out with wide skies above me.  It puts me in some perspective with the rest of the planet and helps settle my seemingly endless concerns with the body of larger issues pulsing around me.  I feel solidarity with sentient beings whose only recourse is to 'endure', grow and be.  The many trees I come to recognize, the bird-life... Having even a little while to just move along in the landscape is my Right Brain anecdote to left-brain stress.  Try it:  next time you feel the world is caving in on you, take a walk in your favorite spot and breathe in the free air.  Your soul will thank you!

Back on the Road

It was unusually humid and warm, anticipating the front which has wrecked havoc further north, and promises to bring an end to our unseasonably warm temps by tonight.   I took the Launch replacements out for their maiden run.   Once again, I realize how many miles I put into a pair of shoes;  with every new pair, my feet say "thank-you...!" and I get a reprieve from the aches and pains of the old ones.

My mind was free to wander where it needed to go;  there is the work upheavals, as we move to our new offices on Sunrise.  The chronic pressures of clients and focus on the many crises of others.  Hanukkah arriving, and the disconnect from the usual family;  sitting with Mom on Sunday chit-chatting about the Jewish decorations, this after she comes out of "church" services, and our mutual eye-rolling over prayers to JC. 

Dementia is an interesting thing.  In her timetable, there is no difference between the living and dead.  Our weekly check-in on this subject surprises her every time with the litany of who's gone before her (she is the last...).   Seeing her fleeting shock and her head shaking trying to piece it together, wondering why she cannot ultimately free herself from her imprisonment in this mind and body. 

Most of the time when I run I think about the contrast between my mom and I, and how much she used to comment on my way of being;  where she was the passive, the accepting one, I was the aggressor- I had no problem setting out for what I wanted to do- my issues came with the situations that then befell me.   Nevertheless, very little got in my way.  When I run, I recognize the same amazing single-mindedness.  No matter how tired,  discouraged or old I may feel I know it is only my 'opinion' and subject to change.  Therefore, running is how I 'change' the mental landscape.  By allowing myself proof positive that I CAN indeed run, and usually further than I think I can, I automatically use this tactic with whatever else I feel stuck on;  what can I revamp in my thinking?

Obviously I take a page out of the meditator's handbook;  the gift of meditation is in cultivating the awareness of thoughts and the space between where thoughts are formulated - or dismantled.  The use of running as a meditation technique is not unique to me:  there are many others who use moving practices like yoga, martial arts to achieve the same results.  Some are sitters.  Some are movers.  By dissociating THROUGH the body, I allow my mind to 'take off'....now I gain some perspective, and in the mix a nice endorphin/dopamine hit.

I feel like I take my mother with me into the world, she who seems content now, to never move from that hallway, that room, bed.  One day, she will take her own lead, and drift out of my life...and I know I will be so happy that we've had all these heartfelt connections, lasting us forever.

Happy Hanukkah-  kiss your loved ones, light the Lights....remember Freedom.