Blog Archives
My First Half Marathon (and life after)
Housekeeping
It’s been too long since I’ve put up a proper post. Sorry about that. My hiatus can best be explained as follows:
April 1-7: Week leading up to the half marathon. Not a great week. It took a lot of energy to actually get myself motivated to look forward to the race. Perks of this week included all of the encouragement from my coach, my yoga teacher, and from my friends at church.
April 7: The half marathon. See recap below.
April 8-14: Recovering from the half marathon. See recap below.
April 15-present: Getting back in the swing of things. Busy with PIET work and the final push to Shiloh’s graduation.
2013 Knoxville Half Marathon Review
On Sunday, April 7th, I completed my first half marathon. The week before the event, I wasn’t nearly as excited as my coach and other runners. In the fall, I was looking toward this event as my goal, but training on my own was getting me injured; and I didn’t actually start training with my coach until February, which isn’t enough time to train properly. But, at this stage of my regular training plan, building a base running ability, I was scheduled to do almost 13 miles for my long run anyway. It was perfect timing to do a practice race, too.
Before this event, I’d only ever run 9 miles total; and I was mostly nervous about essentially adding on an additional hour of running without working up to it. Then, when I returned to Facebook and saw everything my husband had done in developing an “entourage,” I started to freak out a little. (My beloved refers to these moments as “onion” moments because I’m apparently layered like an onion. Thanks, babe.) But then my yoga teacher gave me a small dose of common sense. I focused on the running only, and didn’t think about any of the rest.
Setting Records
Of course the first time you do anything, it sets a record, but I set a few personal records at this event, too. For people not in the running world, my time is not impressive at all. For reference, a 91-year old man finished about 10 minutes before I did. He set a world record.(Side note: If I even make it to 91, I’ll want a medal.) What IS impressive is that I did it. I did it with ovarian cyst pain. I did it overweight. I did it as a former asthmatic. I did it as someone who used to be so crippled by depression and anxiety that I’d only ever leave my home to work (and sometimes not even then). So yeah, that’s pretty impressive to me.
Records:
3/20/13 Time: 14:28 Ran my first complete mile.
4/6/13 Time: 28:20 Two miles that included walking breaks. Faster than my 1 mile of consistent running.
4/7/13 Half Marathon Records set:
Overall time: 3:18:48
Fastest mile: 13:00 (First mile)
Time: 39:40 Fastest 5K (3.1 miles/First 3 miles)
Time: 14:47 Fastest Finishing mile; I finished way stronger than I thought I could.
Overall, I finished about 20 minutes faster than I anticipated based on my previous long-run performance. I’m pretty proud of that. But I’m also looking to knock at least 30 minutes off my time before my next half marathon, so I’m focusing on ways to improve.
Recovery
I’d already seen my recovery week plan, so I knew it was going to be a light week. What I didn’t expect was that I’d be so exhausted for so long, and that I’d hurt for as long as I did. When I came home from work almost every night that week, I did restorative yoga and went to bed at least 2 or 3 hours before my regular bedtime. Even though I’ve been getting enough rest, since the race I’ve been waking up exhausted and feeling incredibly run down. My coach told me that it’s typical to have an immunity zap after endurance events; and I’m confident that’s true, but all the pollen doesn’t help either.
As far as pain goes, I know it’s just something that has to work itself out. I know I’m not injured, and I know that I mostly just have to learn how to tolerate a different kind of pain. I can help things along by eating right/frequently enough, drinking enough, sleeping enough, and being mindful while exercising. The week immediately after the race, I was scheduled to log 10 miles, but I only did 2, and I walked it at that. I didn’t stick to my plan because I knew my body was telling me to be gentler than the plan had detailed. So I did restorative yoga and foam rolled like a boss.
Back on Track
The thing about taking time “off” from running is that it sucks coming back. I’ve been “coming back” for the last 10 days. I remember posting something like “2 miles today seems like nothing compared to 13.1 tomorrow” the day before the race. And now, it’s everything I can do to complete a 4-mile run. My body is still kind of recovering, and I know I can push through this; but I have to keep moving to do it. If I take two rest days in a row, I’m such a wimp on the next run. So now I’m back to working the plan. It’s harder because I have a different kind of pain to deal with in the process, but it’s still worth it.
Moving Forward
As I mentioned earlier, this event was a training run for my goal event. As you’ve noticed my race countdown in the margin, I was set to participate in the first ever Mountain Mommas ½ Marathon in Sevierville, TN on Mother’s Day (May 12th). Unfortunately, the race was canceled due to low registration, which is certainly a wrench in my plan. I asked my coach if we should focus on 5Ks and 10Ks over the summer and set another goal for the Bluegrass Half Marathon in Johnson City on September 22nd. That’s exactly what he wants to do. We’re going to continue to build a base running fitness and start working on speed. First step, reduce the walking breaks to 30 seconds, and walk more briskly & upright.
In the meantime, I’m updating my countdown for the September event because that’s my goal, but I’ll actually be participating in several smaller events before then. If you’re local and want to hang, here’s my schedule:
Saturday, April 27th Dogwood 5K
Saturday, May 11th Run for Clean Air 5K
Saturday, May 25th KTC Expo 10K
Saturday, June 1st, Run for the Rose 5K
Wednesday, July 3rd, Pilot Fireball Classic 5k
Saturday, August 10th, Color Me Rad 5K
Room for Improvement
Clearly, I expect to improve my performance over time; and to do that I’m sticking to the training plan because it works well. But I need to focus on at least two other areas, too: diet and yoga. Since February, I’ve significantly increased my cardio work as well as general fitness (pushups, core work, leg strengthening). The result has been a change in my metabolism, which affects my hormones and my ovarian cysts. These changes are good in the long-run, but any changes with hormones are difficult to endure even if the end result is positive. I’ve been advised to focus on a diet of low-glycemic foods to help regulate my metabolism, so that’s where I’ll start.
With yoga, I just need to do more of it. So far I’ve been focused on running and strength training geared specifically for running. I’ve done yoga, but it’s mostly restorative. I’m not knocking it because clearly my body needs it; but my mental health balance needs regular, moderately challenging yoga. I’m noticing the twinges of easy irritability and difficulty with meditation. I’m noticing more resistance to change and less mindfulness of the moment. Yoga has been the best thing for me in conquering these challenges. Like being thirsty though, once you recognize it, you’re already dehydrated. While I’m also working my way back into running, I also want to focus more on working back into a challenging yoga practice.
Realistic Goal Setting & Scheduling
So far I’ve mentioned three areas of focus (running, dieting, and yoga), and putting time and attention into this many things is a lot for someone who also works full time and volunteers part time. I’ve learned through reading Zen Habits that making lifestyle changes requires focus and action on small, frequent habits as opposed to large goals. Fortunately, my running plan is something my coach puts together. I don’t have to think about it; I just do it. I’ve also already got an awesome yoga practice; I just need to do it, too. Putting together a detailed diet plan takes several hours of research, planning, shopping, and meal prepping. If that’s the only thing I need to do on my own, it doesn’t seem like much; but the challenge lies in finding the time to do it all.
Because it’s starting to get hot, I’ll be returning to early morning practices. I hate waking up so early, but it’s the only way I can feasibly see myself running through the summer. It’s more of an environmental constraint than anything, and I just have to accept it. With early morning practices, I can focus on doing my restorative yoga on those afternoons/evenings. On cross training days, I’ll do the elliptical and yoga instead of either/or. I’ll be building the near-daily habit of exercising early every morning (cardio/endurance) and every evening (yoga). I’ll still take my weekly rest day, too.
So, I need help with the diet. Do any of you pay attention to glycemic index? Have you researched it? I’ve done the cursory Google search, but I’d like more than that. If you have any low glycemic index meals, please share the recipes! I’ll spend some time researching/planning on my next rest day, and I’ll check back here for any tips you want to leave.
Thanks for reading and come back for more on my Knoxville Half Marathon experience in The Friends Who Waited.
Reader Response: Tell Me More about Ovarian Cysts
In a comment on my most recent post, Comfortably Numb asked for more information about ovarian cysts, and because that was my first post dealing with that topic, this post is my attempt at providing her with more information. This is much more personal than I ever envisioned being on my blog, but I think women should be as informed as possible about their reproductive health.
My Personal History of Reproductive UNhealth
My struggles with reproductive health have existed since I was 11 years old. To give you some perspective, my “first” period was waking up with severe abdominal pain while being covered/soaked in so much blood that my mom thought I’d been stabbed. I’ve always had pain and been irregular (e.g., three months straight of menstruating to the point of anemia from that initial experience). I also had considerable weight gain and hormonal imbalance. At 11 years old, my doctor put me on Premarin (a hormone treatment for menopausal women) to shock my system with hormone therapy, and that was disastrous after only three days on the drug. My only other option at 11 years old was a surgery that could have potentially left me sterile, and my parents left it up to me to make the decision on whether to go through with it or not. I chose to take my chances with the pain and did not have the surgery. Since then, I’ve been on more birth control pills than I can remember, changing each time to address my body’s changing hormones. I’ve missed school and work because I’ve been crippled with painful menstrual cycles. I’ve had to spend entire summer breaks mostly confined to bed or limited movement also due to the pain. I lived like this for 17 years. Inescapable pain is a prison.
When I started having digestive issues a few years ago, I kept complaining of either sharp, stabbing pain or dull, soreness in my lower right abdomen. Thinking it was related to the digestive issues because of the unbelievable nausea that accompanied it, I went to expensive extremes to resolve it. Some of my nausea and stomach pain actually was related to digestive stuff, but my doctor referred me to a reproductive specialist in my city, and she found a string of cysts, some of them measuring 3.5 cm in diameter around my right ovary with an ultrasound.
Life Now
In my case, the cysts dissolve on their own, though it may take several weeks. I have noticed reduced frequency of cyst-related pain since I started practicing yoga & added running, and because I now eat foods that are less processed with less sugars. I actually started taking yoga in October 2010 as an alternative to the physical therapy my doctor prescribed to me for the cyst pain, and it’s been the catalyst for the lifestyle overhaul I’m living in right now. However, even with reduced frequency, the pain level hasn’t changed when I do get them. It’s severe, and it wipes me out.
Medical Mumbo-Jumbo
Because repeated, multiple cysts are typically linked to a hormone or insulin-related imbalance, it is treated as a precursor to diabetes, and many doctors prescribe medicine like Metformin, (which is traditionally used for Type II diabetics) to help cyst sufferers lose weight and manage cyst formation. I have NOT been prescribed Metformin because my cysts do eventually dissolve on their own and because I have been losing weight with diet and exercise, though it’s an unbelievably slow and arduous process. I have, however, had to change birth control several times to address the hormonal aspect of my condition.
Symptoms & Dangers of Ovarian Cysts
Symptoms that are red flags for me are (in the order they tend to appear): bloating and more density in my lower abdomen especially, soreness (like cramps), and severe sharp pain (like being stabbed) with nausea. For me it either happens the week before or after my cycle, and sometimes it can make my cycle much worse, even considering that I’m on birth control. Additional complications of ovarian cysts include urinary incontinence and frequent urinary tract infections as well as pain during sex or even during sexual arousal.
Dangers of repeated and multiple ovarian cysts include: cyst rupture, which can cause the ovary to rupture along with it, consequently resulting in internal bleeding and a necessary trip to the ER; twisting the ovary, which can essentially “kill” your ovary; and infertility (because the eggs that are released are too hormonally imbalanced to be fertilized).
When to See the Doctor & What to Bring
If you are experiencing frequent, sharp lower abdominal pain, usually (but not exclusively) limited to one side, I’d start making a log of it, especially in relation to your cycle. I’d also include in this log what you’re eating and drinking. Be specific: Does the pain interfere with your daily life? If so, how long does it last? Do your cycles change (get heavier or lighter, skip or last longer)?
Take the log to your reproductive health doctor and discuss it. He or she will most likely conduct a pelvic exam and a trans-vaginal ultrasound, both of which can be painful with ovarian cysts present, but these exams are necessary because a regular abdominal ultrasound doesn’t always pick them up clearly. If ovarian cysts are present, your doctor will then determine what kind they are and make a plan accordingly. Some people require laparoscopic surgery to burn the cysts off and clean up any scar tissue that may have developed on the ovaries or fallopian tubes; others in danger of becoming diabetic may need to take Metformin; or people like me need to switch up their birth control to manage the hormone imbalances.
Fertility & Ovarian Cysts
Issues like this have made trying to conceive quite challenging. If I have to stay on birth control just to manage my hormonal imbalances, then what happens when I go off it to conceive? Well, I personally have a three-month window off birth control before my symptoms get too severe for daily life. If I can’t conceive within three months, then I have to go back on my pills to prevent cyst/hormone overload on my ovaries. This back-and-forth with hormonal birth control is enough to make me think I’ve lost my mind, and it kills my husband to watch me go through this without being able to do anything about it.
With hormonal imbalances, unavoidable and hard-to-lose weight, crippling pain, and embarrassing facial hair, issues of infertility seem (to me) to be icing on top of the torture cake. While I have suffered beyond measure for almost two decades, I have to face my culture’s pressure to have children (which I absolutely want), and I have to see all my friends and family members fill up mini-vans and SUVs with their ever-expanding families. I have to face questions about why we continue to wait as we are, as well as horror stories of waiting too late to have children. At one point I had 14 friends on Facebook who were simultaneously pregnant and sharing their “baby trackers” online, and I had to unfriend them because I just couldn’t take the frequent updates without feeling sorry for myself. These issues are usually silent struggles shared between couples behind closed doors and in exam rooms, and I would typically say a person’s health issues (reproductive or otherwise) shouldn’t be a matter for such public conversation as this. But clearly people don’t feel they are crossing a line when they repeatedly ask me these questions in public; so I’ve been quite (embarrassingly) forthcoming with this post.
Aside from birth control, laparoscopic surgery is also an option for me (though an unaffordable one right now thanks to the medical debt from troubleshooting these issues). Within three months of having laparoscopic surgery, I’ve been told I’ll be a “fertile Myrtle” very much able to conceive, but the danger then lies in increased complications with pregnancy and increased likelihood of miscarriage. Because being off birth control is obviously necessary while pregnant, the cysts can return while pregnant and cause complications. Pregnant women who are prone to repeated and multiple ovarian cysts are also likely to develop gestational diabetes and preeclampsia.
We’ve also considered adoption, and you wouldn’t believe the expensive hoops we have to jump through just to be qualified. It’s as expensive as IVF, and as heartbreaking if surrogate parents decide to change their minds or if adoption boards don’t approve of any number of things on our adoption application.
I’m doing everything in my power to make my body both fit and strong enough to handle the ovarian cysts and to get & stay pregnant. Every ounce of my energy is going into working (to pay off medical debt and pay for preventative healthcare), exercising to lose weight, and observing a healthy diet to help regulate my hormones all so we can have children, whether biologically, with medical help, or through adoption. I’m well aware that I am approaching 30 and still childless. I do not need public reminders or questions of why we’re still choosing to wait. And I do my best to share in the happiness of my friends and family members who are having kids, but I have to admit it is a bittersweet joy.
For More Information:
Now Testify
Just over a week ago, Jim over at The Running Father Blog posted a callout for transpersonal testimonies, and I took the bait. What follows is my personal testimony…of faith and doubt, of a childhood steeped in fear and abuse, of an adult living with the fallout, of many deaths, and of surviving.
Stages of Development
According to Erik Erikson’s Eight Stages of Human Development, the first thing we learn is either to trust or to mistrust. The easiest example is a parent responding to an infant’s cries. Whether the baby is hungry, tired, or needing a diaper change, the baby has a need, and it is communicating that need with shrill wails. If the parent responds to the baby’s cry with feeding, holding, or changing, then the baby learns to trust that the parent will provide and care for its needs. However, if the parent lets the baby wail and does not feed, hold, or change it, then the baby learns that it cannot trust the parent.
Because the parent is literally the whole world for a baby, this lesson of mistrust then influences the baby’s worldview (and according to Erikson, the potential for successfully mastering the subsequent stages of development as they come up). The subsequent stages of development are: autonomy vs. shame (in the toilet training timeframe), initiative vs. guilt (preschool aged), industry vs. inferiority (primary school aged), identity vs. role confusion (adolescence), intimacy vs. isolation (in young adulthood), generativity vs. stagnation (in middle age), and finally ego integrity vs. despair (in elder years).
It’s fairly safe to say that I was on the losing end of these stages until at least elementary school or adolescence. I essentially survived my childhood as best as I could, and my saving grace in my early life was being in school. Once I learned to count, I counted everything…all the time. Then once I learned to read (in Head Start), and was able to bring books home (in elementary school), I read…all the time. Counting and reading transported me from an unstable, scary home situation into a world of order, patterns, and escapism. Of course my parents, siblings, and school kids thought I was freakish for being a space cadet, tuning everything (and everyone) out most of the time and that I was a lazy loner for choosing to read alone over hanging out with the neighborhood kids.
By the time I was 11, I had a bike, interests of my own, and I had learned to avoid home at all costs, and that’s how I survived. Considering the trauma in my formative years, it’s no wonder I have a hard time trusting people even now, or the gravity of things I walk around with daily. I know I’m lucky to have survived my childhood, and I’m luckier still that I’m not locked away in an institution, either mental or prison. That’s not an exaggeration. I’m literally a statistical anomaly considering my socioeconomic, dysfunctional background.
Of course I’ve been to a variety of therapists, and you know what they say? All of them? “Well, you’re quite well adjusted!” No fucking shit, Sherlock. That I haven’t succumbed to homicidal rages, been successful with suicide, or fallen into the abyss of criminality either means I’m a moderately high functioning sociopath…or I’m okay in spite of everything I’ve experienced.
Snake Oil Salvation
When you take a young girl with my history and add an element of charismatic, evangelical Christianity to the mix, what you end with is a girl who’s suffered unspeakable things thinking she was born damned into the world and deserving of her tragic lot in life. And that’s a goddamned shame.
Drawn to Christianity’s promise of eternal love, I ran to, begged, and pleaded with God to save me…or to let me die. I remember being nine years old and literally praying to God to let me die so I didn’t have to live anymore. (WHAT THE FUCK, INDEED?) But with the resilience that ONLY comes from youth, I embraced the concept of eternal salvation; and I became a proselytizing, evangelical Christian teenager. I channeled all my anger and fear into rigid religious fervor. But I still had questions, so I read the Bible, and I took Biblical courses at church.
When God never rescued me despite all my trying and learning and in the depths of my despair, I chose to let myself die and attempted suicide at sixteen. Though I survived, I think part of me did die then. I’ve felt very much in-between ever since, partly alive and partly dead. I was both corporeal and ethereal at the same time. Some might say I was fragile (they have). I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t say there’s a single fragile thing about me, then or now. I’m as hard and cold as a corpse, and it takes an unbelievable level of effort to force myself to be warm with people.
I had even more questions about faith, and I was desperate for a loving community, so I chose a Christian college when I was lucky enough to have the opportunity. College. Well, it really was the best of times and worst of times. I went through an early marriage, miscarriage, and divorce all before graduating in four years…with two majors… three part time jobs…and a chip on my shoulder the size of Alaska. I was villainized by some for mustering the courage to hold my head up and for bouncing back after the divorce. I was publicly humiliated for wearing a Kerry/Edwards t-shirt while cleaning in the cafeteria on voting day. You read things like Jane Eyre and Great Expectations, or anything by Flannery O’Connor, and you think despicable people like that can’t possibly exist in real life. I’m telling you, I’ve met more than one Bible salesman willing to steal a wooden leg!
As rough as it was, college was also a period of awakening and of finding the deep love of a Christian community, when I wasn’t angry at it, of course. My friends and I would walk barefoot by Buffalo Creek quoting Adam Bede, writing songs, and living out our social justice in the form of hospitality for one another. I never locked my doors. I always left my keys in my car for any of my friends to use as they needed. I never knew if people would be in my apartment…or not. I never claimed ownership over much, but I also never went without anything I needed. I ate well. All my bills were paid…in spite of the money I had or didn’t. It was faith inspired socialism, and it was so beautiful. We lived out the miracle of the loaves and fishes in my last couple of years at college, and it sustained me on more than just material levels.
With my college experiences, my questions about faith only grew, and I became more vocal about my universalist leanings. And then I went to seminary. I realize now that probably wasn’t the best route for me; but I was fresh out of college and not ready to leave my community…so I went to the seminary on the holy hill across the street. I only stayed a year.
In seminary, I gained a love of textual criticism, early Christian tradition, liturgy and ritual, Biblical languages, and early American Christian History, but my doubts than any of it was real, meaningful, or nourishing had also become overwhelming. So I took some time away from church when I left seminary.
In the four years after leaving seminary, I tried going back to church several times, but I just couldn’t. I tried the Methodists because I love John Wesley. I tried the Episcopalians because they drink and have great senses of humor…about faith…and life. The most pleasantly sarcastic people I know are Episcopalian. I strongly considered joining an Episcopal church here in Knoxville, but my husband and I were the youngest people in the congregation by at least a few decades, so the search was still on for a spiritual community.
Dark Night of the Soul
In those same four years after seminary, I struggled in the typical post-collegiate ways. I was overworked, grossly abused by my employer, underpaid, and had no benefits at all. And then I quit that job and struggled with unemployment. But wait…there’s more! To deal with…gosh everything in my life, I started taking an anti-depressant while working for said abusive employer. I was on it a whole month before I quit that job. With all my medical experience, I figured it was okay to just stop taking it. It had only been a month, right? Biggest mistake of my whole life. Ever.
I don’t remember much about the month of November, 2007. I am deeply ashamed of everything I put my husband (then boyfriend) through at that time, but I also know I wasn’t really in control of what was happening. I’m going to blame it all on very bad judgment and quitting my new medication so suddenly (because taking someone with so many demons and fucking with their brain chemistry that way is a disaster just waiting to happen). And it was a disaster.
Some people have a period of depression after confronting (and being consumed with) religious doubt and life struggles. It’s normal, really. But ever the over-achiever, I actually had a certifiable mental breakdown. My beloved took me to the doctor, told him I was broken and lost and not the woman he fell in love with, and he asked for the help that I couldn’t ask for. It took me over a year of taking the right dosage of the right medication to level my brain back out, and the process of figuring out that perfect cocktail was a nightmare all on its own (for me and especially for Daniel).
When I felt better and stronger, I told my doctor I wanted to go off the meds; and I’ve been successfully off of them since early 2009. But I’m not the same. I don’t know that I’ll ever be the same. Maybe part of me died then, too. In all the things I’d been through, I had never experienced debilitating anxiety like I have since living on the flip side of that coin. The constant tentativeness and fear that seems to follow me around since then are like stormy clouds always on the horizon, or a flock of dark pixies overjoyed at my torment.
Reclaiming
In the summer of 2010, I started going back to church. I was so skittish. And they let me be. They let me stay on the edges as long as I needed. Even now, they don’t judge me for the times I’m the Roadrunner out the door after service. Or, if they do, they love me the same anyway, and that’s all that really matters. They preach love, and they practice social justice. They care for the people in the margins. They give space and time and validation to people who are experiencing moments of brokenness, and they offer healing to all who would take it. They are made up of people who’ve been rejected and hurt by their loved ones as well as by the Church. They’re religious scholars with rich theology. They embrace and use liturgy regularly, and I’m sure services are planned; but no one gets bent out of shape when something goes awry. I dare say no music leader is as quick with the witty, musical improvisation as ours! And the children’s/youth’s presence in the congregation and service sets the most beautiful example for us as adults.
Along with my return to a spiritual community, I began practicing yoga in October 2010. It really did start as a practical alternative to physical therapy. But it became the first way I ever learned to be comfortable in my own body and mind. I learned to breathe. I learned to be still without relying on obsessive counting, or escaping through literature. I became physically stronger, and then I became inspired…to see what I could do…to learn what challenges I could overcome.
Last year for Lent, I started practicing yoga every day, and so many unexpected obstacles arose. Uncontrollable crying. Anger. Shaking. A return of nightmares, sometimes night terrors. I think my body was finally experiencing a delayed reaction of sorts to all the pain that had been inflicted upon it. And then last summer a friend committed suicide. In my emotional rawness and because of my own near-miss as well as our communication just a couple days before it happened, it hit me and left me down for the count. I gave myself time to grieve, and then I started moving on before I drowned in it. I went back to church, kept up with my yoga practice, added running, and started practicing Buddhist metta meditation.
I’d say I’m still in the process of reclaiming my life. I still cry sometimes when I do certain yoga poses. When I run, listening to loud, screaming types of music, I feel like my whole body is exercising/exorcising out all of my demons. I’m mostly sleepless, unless it’s out of sheer physical exhaustion. And sometimes it’s hard to shake the negative thoughts from my mind. But I’m still active in my spiritual community. I continue in my yoga & meditation practices, and I’m getting better at running every single day. I journal my reactions to life and culture here on this blog. In reading it, I sincerely hope this stage of my life is as inspiring as it is for me to be living it. Because as hard as all of this is, it’s all worth it.
Reframing
So what am I? What do I believe? What is good or evil? What is my salvation?
Because our culture likes labels, I guess I’m a Post-Traumatic, Post-Evangelical, Post-Fundamentalist, Post-Academic, Atheist, Agnostic, Buddhist, Christian, Yogi. I wouldn’t say I’m a mystic because of my cynicism; but I’m probably more authentically mystic than all the people rushing to India to kiss the feet of their gurus and get new names. The very definition of mysticism, as Wikipedia goes, is “the pursuit of, communion with, identity with, or conscious awareness of an ultimate reality, divinity, spiritual truth, or God through direct experience, intuition, instinct, or insight.” Yup, I’d say I’m probably a mystic; but I don’t dig the talk of chakras or of chanting, or of faith healing. So I’m a cynical mystic as well as a statistical anomaly. Somehow that all seems fitting.
Similarly, the term “charismatic” takes me back to the scary days of life in a Pentecostal church with speaking in tongues, demon possession, and spiritual warfare. I would absolutely say I am not charismatic at all. But the literal and original meaning of charisma is “grace,” and were it not for receiving the grace of all the people who’ll have me, I’d be completely alone in this world.
What is good and evil? Well, I’m an expert at evil, so I’ll start there. Evil is anything that tells us “I am me, and you are you.” If “I am me,” then that means I exist outside of “you.” It means that we are different. It means I can pass righteous judgment on you and you on me. It means I create a sense of self and a sense of other. As long as I have a sense of self and a sense of other, I can debase whatever is “other.” This is the foundation of poverty and war, which are also evil. It is the foundation of thinking one person can own another person and therefore treat “their” people however they please, which is usually to say abuse. And its result…well its result is utter separation, which is hell. Good, on the other hand, is the coming together of You and Me. It is the abandonment of the sense of self and the sense of other. It is the connection of all living things. It is love and charity, grace and peace. It is salvation.
And what of salvation? Well my salvation is Jane Eyre, and all of Dickens’ orphan tales. It’s “The Yellow Wallpaper” and Jane Austen. My salvation is The Smashing Pumpkins, Sarah McLachlan, and Mumford & Sons. It’s absolutely yoga, running, and meditating. It’s Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein. It’s the Mandelbrot set and MC Escher’s Relativity. It’s the Buddha and Jesus and Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. Today and specifically in my life, my salvation is Son’Cia Humphries, Meghan Sizemore, John Henderson, Mr. Owens, Ms. Rhoton & Mr. Wilson, Dr. Ruth Lavender, Dr. Jill LeRoy Frazier, Marvin Glover, Brittany Love, Evelyn Tachau Brown, Judson Nichols, John Gill, Leslie Etheridge, Victoria Medaglia, Ceil Sheahan, Sam Rosolina, Marcia Free & Fred Martinson, and Jim & Sandy Foster. It’s my beloved Daniel and his truly long-suffering love. It’s all the things and people that help me know I’m not alone…that I’m connected. My salvation keeps an eye on me in the moments I’m not able to look out for myself. It challenges me and makes me stronger. It holds me accountable to my vow to love myself.
This post covers my transpersonal journey to this point, which is almost 30 years old. It may seem too short a time to have lived through so much. But I’ve died a few times in the process, and I see it more as if I’ve just lived a few different times even if it’s only in this one lifetime. I’ve certainly had a plentiful serving of tragedy, but I’m living in the midst of the happiest time of my life, which is more than making up for all the doom and gloom.
Things Fall Apart
“And why do we fall, Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves up.”
This week has been a struggle. I could list all the reasons I can think of to explain why, but that hardly seems important or helpful. The bottom line is this week I have lost the meaningfulness of what I’m doing…with this blog…with trying to change my life…with yoga…with running…with weight loss…with anxiety & depression. “The falcon cannot hear the falconer. Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;” Am I the “best without conviction” or the “worst full of passionate intensity?”
If you actually read this blog from the beginning, I think (hope) you’ll find a huge transformation has taken place. Without this blog it’s hard for me to see it because I’m living it every day. The small investments don’t seem that important in the big picture of life, but on the reflection of it, the devil seems to be in the details. And this week I’ve lost sight of the bigger picture; and I question whether that’s as it should be or not.
This week I read this Zen proverb:
A Zen student has a penchant for writing to his teacher monthly with an account of his development. His letters began to take a mystical turn when he wrote, “I am experiencing a oneness with the universe.” When his teacher received this letter, he merely glanced at it and threw it away. The next month the student wrote, “I have discovered that the divine is present in everything.” His teacher used this letter to start his fire. A month later, the student had become even more ecstatic and wrote, “The mystery of the one and many has revealed itself to my wonderment,” at which his teacher yawned. The following month, another letter arrived, which simply said, “There is no self, no one is born, and no one dies.” At this his teacher threw his hands up in despair. After the fourth letter, the student stopped writing to his teacher, and after a year had passed, the teacher began to feel concerned and wrote to his student, asking to be kept informed of his spiritual progress. The student wrote back with the words “Who cares?” When the teacher read this, he smiled and said, “At last! He’s finally got it!”
This story was included in the Tricycle Daily Dharma for February 19th. The entire article was entitled “Letting Go of Spiritual Experience,” and it hit me like a sack of bricks. It explained that experiences on a spiritual path, though they motivate us when they’re positive, are fickle. The article essentially explained that the mountain-top experience comes only because of all the efforts of climbing that preceded it. Somehow when we’re on top, we forget the struggle it took to get us there. But these mountain-top experiences AND the climbing experiences are all just experiences. They come and go, and there is little if any meaning in them. And I can’t seem to shake this. All these changes I’m pushing myself to live through are just meaningless experiences.
So what’s the point of losing the weight or of learning yoga or how to run a half marathon? Aside from my yoga teacher and running coach who have vested interests in my progress, I’m doing this on my own and for myself only to find that there’s nothing of substance in it. I can’t seem to find a good reason for willingly putting myself through all of this. And I don’t think the apathy of the Zen proverb is the answer. I don’t want to be the ignorant and misguided Zen student before his realization, but I certainly don’t want to become apathetic either. I’ve been there, and when you’re already prone to depression, apathy is definitely not healthy to flirt around with.
Despite the lack of motivation this week and despite how hard it has become, I’ve still done everything on my training plan. I’m not sure why I’m doing it, but I am. And this week hasn’t been a mountain top experience, but I’m still climbing. And I’m only wrapping up week 3. I have 11 more weeks of this ahead of me. I hope this experience passes soon. Until then, it’s chop wood, carry water.
Meditation for Monsters
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We all have monsters in our lives: grief, despair, stress, self-loathing, harmful self-comparison; the list goes on, and it is as varied as the number of people on our planet. Our natural response to these monsters is to run away or fight (the flight or fight response). We may express this response in filling our lives to their max capacity with things to do; this is avoidance, a flight response. We may also recognize this in the way we talk to ourselves or others with a harsh tone; this is harmful dialogue, both internal and external, and it is a fight response. So, when you tense up and withdraw, or when you lash out at those around you, you are acting normally. It’s just not helpful to act this way. It doesn’t get rid of the monsters in your life; nor does it make you stronger or more capable of dealing with them.
In our age of hyper-awareness, we may tend to focus on why these things are happening or how they happen. When we focus on the why, we tend to make excuses like, “People are born evil, or with sin.” What does this do, other than give us a spiritual reason for hating ourselves? When we focus on the how, we tend to relive the suffering, despite not wanting to experience it. I think we should put these questions aside and just accept that they happen. People suffer, every single day, and at some point, every single person experiences suffering.
Last night as I was thinking about the various monsters in my life and in the lives of people I care about, I visualized the following meditation.
Step 1: Get comfortable. Maybe sit cross-legged on the floor, either on a cushion, blanket, or mat. If you have low back pain, or if your feet fall asleep from seated meditation, sit in a chair. You could even lie in your bed, but you don’t want to get so comfortable you fall asleep.
Step 2: Close your eyes, or focus on something like a candle.
Step 3: Breathe.
When I visualize breathing, I like to think of my breath as tiny particles of light. The regeneration energy from Doctor Who is a beautiful expression of this in popular culture, but you could also view this as the midi-chlorians from Star Wars, or fairy dust, or rainbow sprinkles…whatever you find comforting and healing. For yogis, this is called prana.
When you breathe in, your body expands, and maybe part of you resists that expansion. Maybe you have tightness in your chest or in your shoulders. Maybe you’re self-conscious of your belly, and try to hold it in all the time. (I find myself doing this without even realizing it.) Right now, I have tightness in my lower abdomen and in the tops of my hips, but it’s different on different days. Recognize that tightness and imagine your breath-light traveling to and through those tight places as you inhale. When you exhale, you should feel more relaxed, especially in those areas. Repeat this breathing until you are relaxed fully.
Step 4: Visualize the following:
You are a strong and trained gladiator, suited in armor and armed with your weapon(s) of choice. You are in the coliseum waiting for your monster to enter. It may take the form of a lion or wild boar or even a dragon. Whatever your monster is, you hear it coming. You hear chains rattling, and you feel the earth tremble as your monster draws nearer to the coliseum and to you. The gate opens, and your monster enters the coliseum with you.
Your natural response may be to cling to your armor, grip your weapons, and lash out in fear-filled rage. You may think you need to do this just to survive. Pause. Return to your breath. Let your breath-light travel to the places of tightness in your body. Return to the feeling of full relaxation. Then return to your visualization.
The monster approaches, maybe charging, maybe tentatively, maybe trying to tease and torment you. You may feel the need to run away. Pause. Return to your breath. Let your breath-light travel to the places of tightness in your body. Return to the feeling of full relaxation. Then return to your visualization.
Instead of attacking or fleeing, drop your weapons. Begin to remove your armor piece by piece, breathing each time. As you breathe in, let your breath-light travel to your shins as you remove your shin guards and boots with your exhale. Continue to inhale slowly and deeply, and remove your breast-plate and wrist sheaths on your exhales. On your final exhale, remove your helmet.
In this place of unbounded relaxation, and in the face of your monster, kneel to the ground. Breathe, trusting your breath and trusting that your monster cannot hurt you. Stay in this place of calm in the very presence of your deepest fear as long as it does not invoke the fight or flight response.
When you have reached your limit, bow to your monster, expressing gratitude for what it has taught you in this moment. Stand up slowly, and walk away, leaving your monster there in the coliseum, waiting for your return whenever you are ready to face it again.
*******
As I tried this meditation last night, I felt stronger and more able to handle my own fears, and I am grateful to my Buddhist Metta practice for teaching me to invite suffering in, bit by bit, so I can sit with it and learn from it. It is essentially the same practice but focused primarily on the things that make us afraid as opposed to cultivating lovingkindness for various people in our lives.
You may not complete the visualization the first or second or tenth time you do it. That’s okay. Maybe you’ve had this fear your whole life. It will take time and consistency to change your currently conditioned response, and that length of time is also as varied as the number of people on the planet. But if you stick with it, you will find yourself freed from those fears, able to sit with them, and able to learn from them. You are bigger than any monster you have created for yourself, and it may take time to learn that. It will definitely take constant and consistent repetition to learn it. But it is possible. Maybe you find this whole process hokey. That’s okay; I do, too. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t work. Try it and see for yourself.
