PEACE
Stepping onto the front porch before my run, I paused, something I don't typically do. Recovering from an injury has forced me to pause, slow down and heal. Gingerly testing my ankle I looked around. The sky was clear, the stars winked brightly and it was crisp; creating a beautiful winter morning. A peacefulness soothed the morning. As I queued my tracker and music I was filled with graditude for getting to experience peace before the chaos that usually defines my days. Venturing out my thoughts took me to peace and my renewed desire for more.
Busy is this era's buzzword. Days are packed with everything possible and more; at times even being busy for the sake of being busy. The societal "standard" dictates we should be plugged in and "on" from pre-dawn to dark of night. The result can be devastating; exhaustion, unhappiness, hopelessness and simple existance. Reflecting on my thoughts I paused to rest the ankle and breathe the chilly air into my lungs. Peace is necessary before, during, and after the hustle of the day. Starting off again I grumbled at the slowness of my pace, but realized the true gift it has brought me; a greater sense of tranquility and a renewed strength in starting the day. I am able to pause long enough to center my soul and experience the myriad of gifts surrounding me. Winding my way through neighborhoods I smile at the Christmas lights. They seem brighter and more cheerful than normal. My soul smiles.
What if we all started our days with peace? What if, instead of rolling over, turning off the alarm, grabbing our phones and launching into the day, we woke up 15 minutes early? Grabbing a cup of coffee and stepping outside to just listen, experience, feel and to center. What if you wished a quiet good morning to Orion or lifted your cup to the Big Dipper. The morning may be crisp or cold, but your heart will swell, your mind will ease and the day will begin in a more beautiful way.
POSITIVITY
As I returned from my run my heart was full and a smile tickled my cheeks. Switching my phone out of tracker mode I unconciously began my electronic plug in; email, FB, Instagram, Voxer, Snapchat . . .Unsurprisingly negativity owned the internet; social posts with name calling, blanket statements, negative political rhetoric. The peace of the morning began to slip away, thoughts began to tangle and I could feel my mind clouding. My mood plummeted as my mind started chasing around what I saw. By feeding my mind negativity I was inviting more negativity to compound the impact. Anger and frustration became dominate thoughts and the posts I saw were not the family pictures and experiences, but the reposts that validated or rebuked my negative mind set. In those situations the smallest things become mountains. Like magnets, negative attracks negative and positive attracks positive.
"Tomorrowland" with George Clooney illustrates the power of negative and positive in a thought provoking movie. The loose basis of the movie shows the end of Earth due to the negativity, devisiveness, and hate that is being talked about and aired constantly through media. The power of one girl and her refusal to think and believe negatively derails the expected outcome. Positive thoughts have more power than we can even imagine! Days when I choose to focus on the good my day is brighter, the people aroound me smile more, my kids and husband are happier. It is not that those days don't have challenges, because they do, I just choose to find the good.
What if for the rest of this year we chose to perpetuate the positive cycle? What if we posted only fun pictures of the good things in our lives? Or if that doesn't work we can fall back on Thumper the rabbit's quote, "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all." What if each morning begins with peace and positivity, a cup of coffe, the stars and loving the posts with familly pictures, funny stories, christmas programs and you whispering two things you were thankful for?
PURPOSE
As I shifted my mind back to positive things like unicorns and lollipops I began to tick through day's schedule; run-finished, shower-finished, get kids up, breakfast, work, appointments, supper, cleanup, bed and then start it all over. I realized how easy it is to get into the habit of simply existing. Each day is essentially the same and easy to follow the same routine waking up 10, 20, or 30 years later with the same thoughts, the same schedule and the same melancholy existance. I read a quote by Robin Sharma the other day that said, "Don't live the same year 75 times and call it a life." Wow! That thought circled through my brain as I thought about the daily steps that led me here. I truly do like schedule and would be a little crazy without it, but at times it seems as if we are serving a prison term; at the end of each night scratching another hash mark on the bedroom wall with a dull plastic spoon, marking what? Another year of existence? Realizing I look terrible in prison orange I decided to focus more on living the day with purposeful intent. Work was not just a paycheck, but the opportunity to make someone smile and lessen their personal burden. I could make a difference, no matter how small. I paused to smile and say "Good morning gorgeous" or "Hi handsome." I noticed the joy of a dog going for a walk and when the boys got home I hugged a little harder and listened more intently as they shared their day. I worked through the day with purposeful intent, not just to get to the end and start over, but to experience everything around me. I paused in my pursuit of adulthood to recognize with a child's delight the golden moments I am gifted with every day.
We are not guaranteed a single thing. We need to seize, celebrate, experience and believe. What if we celebrated the small moments? What if each day was purposeful rather than rote? What if we stopped worrying about busy for the sake of busy, stock piling vacation and talking about how exhausted we are and started purposefully planning a vacation? What if we purposefully found joy in simple daily pleasures? What if we stopped talking about how tired we are, how old we are, how many ailments we have and decided to live and enjoy? What if we celebrated our gifts instead of feeding our fears and insecurities. What if we made the choice today to live with peace, positivity and purpose? What would that create in our lives?
During this holiday season I invite you to begin each day with peace, focus on positivity and be purposeful!!
Wednesday, December 13, 2017
Thursday, August 3, 2017
Seasons
Walking out into the darkness, I inhaled the purity of early morning. My heart sighed and I wished the stars good morning. I began my run and could feel the slightest bite to the air. It was beautiful hovering in the 50s, but a nip definitely rode the breeze. Summer was creeping back and the change of seasons would inevitably come. When my feet kissed the street, I felt pure love course through my body. I had missed this feeling!
Almost two years ago I left a job that severly damaged me mentally and emotionally. I haven't really talked about it and have carried the pain and wounds internally. The true impact of that season on my life was hidden, even to me, until recently as I began to fully emerge from the other side. Entering the position positivity was as natural to me as breathing air and though not 100% confident I celebrated and loved the strong, smart, compassionate and unique woman God created. I exuded confidence, joy, expectation and a belief in people. That changed. It wasn't overnight, but gradual like a river cuts through a mountain. In the moment I never realized it was happening; the belittling, lying, constant personal attacks wore me down to a shell. After 6 years the woman who was, was no longer.
When I left recovery was necessary. Logically I knew the toll it had taken on me, but emotionally, knowing I allowed the damage and admitting to needing recovery time seemed yet another weakness. The season of recovery was difficult, more difficult as I felt I couldn't burden others. People often turned to me for solace and stability. I couldn't imagine heaping my pain on anybody's already full life. As this season ended I began the next season fearful, jaded, and angry.
Intial recovery was behind me and I needed to heal. I doubted people. I doubted me. Internally I saw and spoke only demeaning thoughts and negativity. The few logical brain cells remaining understood how deep the poison had entered my system prompting me to withdraw. I didn't want to infect anyone with what had overtaken me.
As the healing process began I battled. Logic spoke self worth, love, joy and happiness. It reminded me I deserved success and the things I worked for, but after six years of errosion it was a seemingly futile process. I had been conditioned; nobody could be trusted, I had no self worth and no matter how hard I worked I did not deserve anything. Happily ever after happened only in Disney movies. I pulled away from people terrified anything positive was a trap. I entered the depths of despair. On the outside I maintained a modicum of normalcy while internally the war was staggering. I don't share; I don't burden, nor did I want to exude my poisonous thoughts on anyone, so I turned in. As I fought in my heart and the deep recesses of my mind, I prayed as best I could, hoping for a window to open and lighten my blackened and bitter soul. Depression cast it's oppresive blanket over me celebrating and encouraging damaging thoughts. I was overwhelmed and felt as if I was suffocating.
Discipline and routine kept me afloat. I ran because it was part of my normal routine and the discipline would not let me quit. Unfortunately the venom tainted even this aspect of my life. Running was simply going through the motions. I mourned the loss of love and joy that was such an integral part of my run. My times got slower and I cut out most races. Races held very little joy and opened additional avenues of critique as I faced not competing at my normal level. I berated myself for not running as fast, not racing as hard, not creating the mountain top moments in my business, for not editing, writing or creating. Deep inside I knew, though, that if I didn't hit the pavement I would be lost. I fought harder during a run and could see small glimpses of who I was.
As the year progressed I worked to reprogram my mind. Through the bleakness I reached, almost half starved, for the smallest crumb of joy and hope. Like the river that courses through the mountains year after year, it is almost impossible to change course overnight. I needed to give myself permission to heal. It was difficult. I kept seeing weakness; withdrawal was a weakness, admitting to damage was a weakness, the perceived missteps in life were a weakness. I struggled. I couldn't share because all would see how terribly I had failed. I gave myself permission to heal and the process became easier. The year is difficult to remember outside of the despair. I am thankful for the routine, the pictures and the stories prompted by the pictures. Without each I would have missed so much and been even more lost.
The rhythm of my run soothed me as these thoughts circled. Every aspect of life has a season. This season has finally begun to retreat for me. The past week was spent in the presence of strong and powerful women, a time, place and company I desperately needed. My thoughts were infused with belief, and I was encircled in love and strength. I am not completely healed, but I have made progress. As I savor the final miles of my run I embrace the crispness and slight hint of the shifting season. I know there are seasons in our life when we must heal, when we must withdraw, when we must forgive ourselves and remind ourselves of the amazing people we are.
The final push is like water on an incredibly hot day, hydrating my parched soul. I am stretching for the 7 minute mile and as my music ends I glance around; the sky is brighter and the birds twitter. The run was good and I am good.
Almost two years ago I left a job that severly damaged me mentally and emotionally. I haven't really talked about it and have carried the pain and wounds internally. The true impact of that season on my life was hidden, even to me, until recently as I began to fully emerge from the other side. Entering the position positivity was as natural to me as breathing air and though not 100% confident I celebrated and loved the strong, smart, compassionate and unique woman God created. I exuded confidence, joy, expectation and a belief in people. That changed. It wasn't overnight, but gradual like a river cuts through a mountain. In the moment I never realized it was happening; the belittling, lying, constant personal attacks wore me down to a shell. After 6 years the woman who was, was no longer.
When I left recovery was necessary. Logically I knew the toll it had taken on me, but emotionally, knowing I allowed the damage and admitting to needing recovery time seemed yet another weakness. The season of recovery was difficult, more difficult as I felt I couldn't burden others. People often turned to me for solace and stability. I couldn't imagine heaping my pain on anybody's already full life. As this season ended I began the next season fearful, jaded, and angry.
Intial recovery was behind me and I needed to heal. I doubted people. I doubted me. Internally I saw and spoke only demeaning thoughts and negativity. The few logical brain cells remaining understood how deep the poison had entered my system prompting me to withdraw. I didn't want to infect anyone with what had overtaken me.
As the healing process began I battled. Logic spoke self worth, love, joy and happiness. It reminded me I deserved success and the things I worked for, but after six years of errosion it was a seemingly futile process. I had been conditioned; nobody could be trusted, I had no self worth and no matter how hard I worked I did not deserve anything. Happily ever after happened only in Disney movies. I pulled away from people terrified anything positive was a trap. I entered the depths of despair. On the outside I maintained a modicum of normalcy while internally the war was staggering. I don't share; I don't burden, nor did I want to exude my poisonous thoughts on anyone, so I turned in. As I fought in my heart and the deep recesses of my mind, I prayed as best I could, hoping for a window to open and lighten my blackened and bitter soul. Depression cast it's oppresive blanket over me celebrating and encouraging damaging thoughts. I was overwhelmed and felt as if I was suffocating.
Discipline and routine kept me afloat. I ran because it was part of my normal routine and the discipline would not let me quit. Unfortunately the venom tainted even this aspect of my life. Running was simply going through the motions. I mourned the loss of love and joy that was such an integral part of my run. My times got slower and I cut out most races. Races held very little joy and opened additional avenues of critique as I faced not competing at my normal level. I berated myself for not running as fast, not racing as hard, not creating the mountain top moments in my business, for not editing, writing or creating. Deep inside I knew, though, that if I didn't hit the pavement I would be lost. I fought harder during a run and could see small glimpses of who I was.
As the year progressed I worked to reprogram my mind. Through the bleakness I reached, almost half starved, for the smallest crumb of joy and hope. Like the river that courses through the mountains year after year, it is almost impossible to change course overnight. I needed to give myself permission to heal. It was difficult. I kept seeing weakness; withdrawal was a weakness, admitting to damage was a weakness, the perceived missteps in life were a weakness. I struggled. I couldn't share because all would see how terribly I had failed. I gave myself permission to heal and the process became easier. The year is difficult to remember outside of the despair. I am thankful for the routine, the pictures and the stories prompted by the pictures. Without each I would have missed so much and been even more lost.
The rhythm of my run soothed me as these thoughts circled. Every aspect of life has a season. This season has finally begun to retreat for me. The past week was spent in the presence of strong and powerful women, a time, place and company I desperately needed. My thoughts were infused with belief, and I was encircled in love and strength. I am not completely healed, but I have made progress. As I savor the final miles of my run I embrace the crispness and slight hint of the shifting season. I know there are seasons in our life when we must heal, when we must withdraw, when we must forgive ourselves and remind ourselves of the amazing people we are.
The final push is like water on an incredibly hot day, hydrating my parched soul. I am stretching for the 7 minute mile and as my music ends I glance around; the sky is brighter and the birds twitter. The run was good and I am good.
Thursday, March 16, 2017
The Affair
It began in earnest a little over four years ago. I had flirted often enough; a little bit here and a little bit there, but never made the leap to a full blown love affair. I definitely wasn't the type, if there even is a type, and there had never been a desire. Why would anyone want to? Spending hours together, meeting whenever and wherever was convenient. As a friend recently reminded me, I scoffed at the slightest idea of being drawn to that type of relationship. But then I was.
The first real meeting tested me. It wasn't easy, leaving the house in the early morning dawn; the nerves, the concern, wondering if I could really follow through. I was terrified. Questions, concerns, denial and doubt all swirled through my brain. What if I couldn't do it? I would be stranded somewhere, alone, tired and regretting my decision. What would people think if they found out? What would they think knowing I tried and failed or even scarier, tried and succeeded. Being true to my decision I took the leap. We began slowly, but even then it hurt. My emotions were all over the board and then my body responded on it's own; no thought, just feeling. It was exhilirating, terrifying and liberating. My heart beat fast, my muscles tensed, my breathing was ragged, but I felt alive. I felt free. At that moment I knew the affair would continue.
As the house slept, I would wake up, dress just right, choose the perfect shoes and slip into the dark to meet my lover. Each morning our bond grew stronger, my dependence grew deeper and I fell further in love. I was drawn and almost addicted! My days hinged on whether or not we could meet; whether or not I could feel that desire and strength. Morning after morning we would sneak away. Some days we were together for hours, leaving my muscles fatigued and my body sweaty. Other days it seemed only a matter of minutes. The relationship helped my confidence grow and my esteem blossom. I began to like the girl in the mirror.
I would pine for our time together even when it wasn't always wine and roses. We fought when I wasn't feeling the connection. My body and mind would rebel, pushing back against the relationship. Some days my heart just wasn't in it and my mind would wander, but we still met. At times our escapes were therapeutic. My lover gently untangled the stress, the conflict and the worry. Each movement, touch, caress would whisk away negativity. We would finish and my heart would be lighter and I would glow positivity.
We have been apart for a week. Like a vengeful woman sickness swooped in, preventing any time together. As coughs have wracked my body until every muscle hurt, I have yearned. The fever, the fatigue and the headaches couldn't dim the desire. Illogically I feel my muscles atrophy, my stamina wan and hoped for the moment we can reunite. Through the haze of illness, the siren's song of my lover, the run, calls to me. My body aches for that intimacy, my heart craves the dark of pre-dawn and our quiet moments.
My affair will continue with running for years. We will meet whenever and wherever we can, drawing on strength, intimacy, quiet and love.
The first real meeting tested me. It wasn't easy, leaving the house in the early morning dawn; the nerves, the concern, wondering if I could really follow through. I was terrified. Questions, concerns, denial and doubt all swirled through my brain. What if I couldn't do it? I would be stranded somewhere, alone, tired and regretting my decision. What would people think if they found out? What would they think knowing I tried and failed or even scarier, tried and succeeded. Being true to my decision I took the leap. We began slowly, but even then it hurt. My emotions were all over the board and then my body responded on it's own; no thought, just feeling. It was exhilirating, terrifying and liberating. My heart beat fast, my muscles tensed, my breathing was ragged, but I felt alive. I felt free. At that moment I knew the affair would continue.
As the house slept, I would wake up, dress just right, choose the perfect shoes and slip into the dark to meet my lover. Each morning our bond grew stronger, my dependence grew deeper and I fell further in love. I was drawn and almost addicted! My days hinged on whether or not we could meet; whether or not I could feel that desire and strength. Morning after morning we would sneak away. Some days we were together for hours, leaving my muscles fatigued and my body sweaty. Other days it seemed only a matter of minutes. The relationship helped my confidence grow and my esteem blossom. I began to like the girl in the mirror.
I would pine for our time together even when it wasn't always wine and roses. We fought when I wasn't feeling the connection. My body and mind would rebel, pushing back against the relationship. Some days my heart just wasn't in it and my mind would wander, but we still met. At times our escapes were therapeutic. My lover gently untangled the stress, the conflict and the worry. Each movement, touch, caress would whisk away negativity. We would finish and my heart would be lighter and I would glow positivity.
We have been apart for a week. Like a vengeful woman sickness swooped in, preventing any time together. As coughs have wracked my body until every muscle hurt, I have yearned. The fever, the fatigue and the headaches couldn't dim the desire. Illogically I feel my muscles atrophy, my stamina wan and hoped for the moment we can reunite. Through the haze of illness, the siren's song of my lover, the run, calls to me. My body aches for that intimacy, my heart craves the dark of pre-dawn and our quiet moments.
My affair will continue with running for years. We will meet whenever and wherever we can, drawing on strength, intimacy, quiet and love.
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