Things move too fast, they move too slowly, we want more, we want less.
Such silly creatures, these human beings, someone somewhere must be saying.
These past few months have flown by. It was fall, then winter, and now it’s almost spring. And all the while, I have been kicking and screaming about all the movement and change, the incredible speed with which everything has come and the seemingly endless amount of work it takes to keep up with the magnificent life I am creating. Huh. Right. I am creating. I am creating the change and too the hurried, harried pace.
As Diane Ackerman says, “I don’t want to be a passenger in my own life.” Yes. And too, I don’t want to be in a car chase. So my intention now is to move wondrously, but less wildly forward, maintaining, even in motion, some sense of ease.
I liken this intention to running. It is one thing to be running because we feel like we have to or we must, as this creates some recklessness in our bodies. You can even see this recklessness in the grimaces on people’s faces; every step hurts a little, some twisted pressure to the ankle, knee or hip. It is another thing to run with purpose and breath, to let the spine settle lightly on the pelvis and the knees lift gently with each step. To match movement and breath. You can see this connection on people’s faces as well; they are the ones who are smiling, taking pleasure in each stride.
This analogy is offered as an invitation. In this moment between winter and spring, consider how you are moving forward. The motion itself is wonderful, as is the pleasure we can take in our own progress. But there is no need to suffer the discomfort of an overly harried pace. Simply shake your shoulders, lift your spine, align your hips and heels and remember to breathe. Joy does not come from being out of breath. Joy comes from breathing deeply and relaxing into the run. We are traveling a great distance.
These past few months have flown by. It was fall, then winter, and now it’s almost spring. And all the while, I have been kicking and screaming about all the movement and change, the incredible speed with which everything has come and the seemingly endless amount of work it takes to keep up with the magnificent life I am creating. Huh. Right. I am creating. I am creating the change and too the hurried, harried pace.
As Diane Ackerman says, “I don’t want to be a passenger in my own life.” Yes. And too, I don’t want to be in a car chase. So my intention now is to move wondrously, but less wildly forward, maintaining, even in motion, some sense of ease.
I liken this intention to running. It is one thing to be running because we feel like we have to or we must, as this creates some recklessness in our bodies. You can even see this recklessness in the grimaces on people’s faces; every step hurts a little, some twisted pressure to the ankle, knee or hip. It is another thing to run with purpose and breath, to let the spine settle lightly on the pelvis and the knees lift gently with each step. To match movement and breath. You can see this connection on people’s faces as well; they are the ones who are smiling, taking pleasure in each stride.
This analogy is offered as an invitation. In this moment between winter and spring, consider how you are moving forward. The motion itself is wonderful, as is the pleasure we can take in our own progress. But there is no need to suffer the discomfort of an overly harried pace. Simply shake your shoulders, lift your spine, align your hips and heels and remember to breathe. Joy does not come from being out of breath. Joy comes from breathing deeply and relaxing into the run. We are traveling a great distance.
