Boston

The recent (today) explosions at the Boston Marathon finish line has had a deep effect on me. Not only as a runner, but as someone who has completed a marathon, who knows that if I work hard, I too can someday qualify for Boston. Today I ran a little over 6 miles, I have a half coming up in June, the 13.1 a perfect race for a full time student / student teacher. Training for a marathon takes months, and ends with long 20 + mile runs. In order to run Boston you must complete a qualifying marathon within a certain time. I think of the finish line at the race today, at all those people who weren't able to cross because someone wanted to hurt people. I think of the hope a runner feels passing thousands of strangers, cheering her on, playing music, spraying her with a hose on a hot day. I think of the good will of humanity that is spotlighted at races, the volunteers who help, handing out water, and running along side you (thank you lady in Hartford, I wasn't sure I could do it.) And I am sad, I am sad for the spectators who were injured or killed, I am sad for the runners who worked toward this goal, to have a dream dashed by an individual who wished to incite fear and cause pain. I am sad because a little of my bubble has burst, my "people" have been affected, my fellow runners, people who I smile at when running by, people who know how hard it is to get out of the house on a cold day, people who know how much pain comes the day after a race. Tomorrow I will run with my friend, we will pass sheep and geese, an occasional car or two. I will run for those affected today, I will run for my "people."

Just Words

It has been a while, a long while. I have been student teaching and finishing up my Master's degree. One of the courses I am teaching this semester is Advanced English Projects. Each of the students has their own blog, a list of these can be found on my teacher site, Twelfth Site. That said, I haven't been writing. I haven't felt like writing, until last night. We went to see Neil Gaiman, one of my favorite writers, at Bard College in New York. He read some of his work, in Neil Gaiman style, the stories filled with humor and unique characters. He spoke of setting a goal to write 8 short stories in 8 hours. It made me want to write. I haven't allowed myself the time to sit down and write something other than a paper for my degree, or a lesson plan for my student teaching. This coming week my words will be transformed into music, after collaborating with a local composer, in a piece titled "Wu Xing," in concert with a local group Crescendo. So my words are out there, but what happens after the piece is played, after the last note sung? Have I shut off the spigot, or has the flow of words just gotten stuck behind a clog? The only way to find out is to sit down and type, to see what appears on the paper or screen. What characters are inside, waiting to come and play? Will I take the time from life's busyness to allow myself the simple pleasure of writing?  

Going Vegan

My 200th post! It has been awhile since I have last written, I have been busy working my way through a Master's program, and it has been intense. But I am enjoying every minute and I am grateful.

Approximately fifteen years ago I attended a vegan dinner at a local Indian Restaurant with my father. The food was delicious and I left the meal feeling energized rather than the usual sluggish. I was volunteering at a local shelter working with animals, and I made the decision that night to stop eating meat. I have been a vegetarian since that dinner. I made the choice for ethical as well as health reasons. I lost weight and felt better about my food choices.

Recently I have taken another step, I am attempting to remove all animal products from my diet, including some of my favorites, cheese and ice cream. I haven't had milk since I was a child (with the exception of coffee at restaurants) but dairy products comprised a significant part of my daily protein intake. The ice cream was fairly easy (shocker) with products such as Tofutti frozen dessert and SoDelicious coconut milk products. The cheese was a wee bit harder. I did finally buy vegan cheese and made myself a batch of mac and cheese, melting the shredded "cheese" with Silk creamer and vegan butter. The dish was surprisingly yummy (my twenty year old man child even ate an entire batch.) And for the past few weeks I have actually made myself meals. For anyone who knows me, this might be considered a miracle greater than the whole turning water into wine act.  I have been a prepackaged food gal ever since I can remember. I don't enjoy cooking (it involves cleaning...) But I now have three meals that I have mastered out of Nava Atlas's Vegan Express cookbook. The recipes are fast with few ingredients and super yummy. I have read that for every person who eats a vegan diet, 900 animals are saved. I am not perfect yet, and I still eat cheese whenever there aren't options for me when I am out and about, but so far I haven't purchased any animal products for a few months now. I feel better about my choices, have lost a little more weight and have in the end learned how to be a little more compassionate with myself. Taking care of my body in these ways, eliminating high cholesterol products, and cooking foods that contain real ingredients, is a step in the right direction. This journey is a spiritual one, my connection with the planet has only been amplified. Next step... my shoe obsession. Wish me luck and a vegan shoe store...  

Multiple Intelligences....Ommmmmm

I have been trying to incorporate a daily meditation practice into my life, been trying for at least ten years. I start, reap the benefits, and somewhere down the road life changes and the practice is left in a ditch. Let's see, what other excuses can I come up with? I can't sit still for very long...my mind races...I fall asleep. All of these have happened, even when I was in the midst of a daily practice (they call it practice for a reason.) So the excuses take over and eventually I sit in front of the computer, blogging about how I need to start meditating.

I just finished up a summer program, working with a group of young people transitioning to high school. On one of the days we all filled out questionnaires to discover what our learning styles were. This activitity took our answers and tallied them to pinpoint whether we were auditory, kinesthetic, or visual learners. Also, whether we were musical, mathematical, interpersonal or intrapersonal learners. We were all a mixture of the styles, I scored high in the visual, verbal, musical and intrapersonal categories. It helped to explain how best I learn, there were some surprises, but most I had discovered when things didn't work out in a classroom.

Taking this quiz a bit further, I wonder, if we all have strengths in our learning styles, might we all have different ways in which we have a higher success rate with one meditation style versus another? I run every day, it feels great, and I have time to work through life situations with which I might be concerned. The steady even rhythm of my footfall lures me into a meditative state. So maybe I am actually mediating, it just looks different than a Tibetan monk's practice. Some people might need music, others a lap pool. Anything that quiets the mind so that a state of peace can enter. The word meditation itself derives from the 13th century, "discourse on a subject," from meditari "to meditate, to think over, consider." Today I meditate on the many styles of meditation that are available to me. It's ok, I am doing it right, I just need do it.   

Humility is Humorous, pass it on...

This morning I was reading and stumbled upon a concept that fascinated me. The anonymous writer was talking about humility and humor in concordance with a spiritual tradition, and said that both words had the same root. My juices were flowing, just how can I connect the two words? I would write about it and during the process of writing I could stumble upon some useful nugget that would help me to grasp the difficult concept of humility, one with which I have always struggled. Just how does one become humble? It is a goal to strive for, it is one I would love to say I have accomplished, cross it off my bucket list (swim with dolphins, travel to Asia, run a triathlon, become humble, check.) So I started to do some research, and grabbed my trusty Oxford English Dictionary. I first looked up "humor" and was pulled back through the centuries to the fourteenth. "In ancient and mediæval physiology, one of the four chief fluids ( cardinal humours ) of the body (blood, phlegm, choler, and melancholy or black choler), by the relative proportions of which a person's physical and mental qualities and disposition were held to be determined." In Medieval times humor was any liquid or flowing substance. Our present day sense of humor derives from this concept that one's disposition had something to do with the fluid in one's body. Sounds delicious. I then looked up humble and humility. Different root, from the Latin humilitāt-em, versus the Latin ūmōr-em.

The OED defines humility as, "[t]he quality of being humble or having a lowly opinion of oneself; meekness, lowliness, humbleness: the opposite of pride or haughtiness." I am not sure whether I agree with the OED on this one. Having a lowly opinion of oneself does not sound like it would help me with life's difficulties. To be humble one does not have to lack any sort of self esteem. But can I laugh at myself when I make a mistake instead of wallowing in self condemnation, as if the veins of my body were pulsing with black sludge? Ok, that doesn't quite work, sounds melodramatic. I still like the Medieval concept though, what is inside me is projected out to the world. If I am negative, prideful, angry or just plain mean, somehow those around me will be hit with these energies. But if I can fill myself with Spirit, exude laughter and joy, I am sure it will make its way around. But for today I need to be humble enough to admit that I am still confused. Might as well enjoy it.

Clarity

“You must read, you must persevere, you must sit up nights, you must inquire, and exert the utmost power of your mind. If one way does not lead to the desired meaning, take another; if obstacles arise, then still another; until, if your strength holds out, you will find that clear which at first looked dark.” Giovanni Boccaccio

13.1

Yesterday, at 8:30 am, I was standing in the middle of 4,500 amazing people. How would I know they were all amazing? Three, two, one and we were off. All of us moving as a unit, with one goal in mind, it didn't matter if we were old, young, black, white, thin or fat. It didn't matter if we were Republican or Democrat, Atheist or Mormon, we were all united, we were all ready. Eighty degrees, sunny, Jennings Beach, we were all clad in sneakers and ready. Moving together toward the 13.1 mile marker and our finisher medal, toward a goal to mark off our bucket list, a PR, or fundraiser for charity, we were all moving toward that marker. Each mile brought smiles, each cheer brought motivation. We moved toward a common goal. We stopped for water, cheered the first place runner as he passed us (he was at mile 11 while we were trudging at 4). We pushed up hills, we raced down the other side. We found relief in the shade and struck up conversations.  "Are you from this area?" "No, I'm from Maryland." We danced as we passed bands, or neighbors blasting car stereos and yelling, "you can do it." We were runners. We were a power. Losing myself in the crowd yesterday, I was aware that I am part of something much grander than I could have imagined. I get sucked into the daily lonely struggle of being human, of separating myself and thinking that I (me, myself and I) have to organize and execute my life. But I am always part of a grander scheme, whether that is a runner among runners or a child of God. I am not alone. I reached the 13.1 mile marker among 4,500 other people. I reached the finish line as a member of the human race, a child of a power much greater than myself. If I am to grow spiritually, the "I" needs to become "We." Because even when I think I am alone, I am not. I am surrounded by countless other people who have gone through (insert blank) before me. Today, we are sore, we ice muscles, we take ibuprofen and we start planning the next race, to beat that time, to experience the middle of the pack. Because we are runners.