Along with the laughter and joy brought by warmer weather, it also ushers in a peculiar unrest... which seems to create foolhardy behavior. Drug dealers and users are more active, criminal activity occurs more readily, crisis response centers are accessed frequently, and a general lack of initiative/motivation takes over. I certainly understand the desire to simply sit in the sun, sipping a chilled beverage and watching the clouds pass without responsibility and pressures and deadlines.
The last month passed by with frightening speed. A trip to Colorado to celebrate my cousin's wedding... an evening in Meyersdale to celebrate my little brother's 21st birthday.. recognizing year anniversaries of living in Philadelphia and Wallace apartment.. as well as 8 years of past marriage and a year of divorce. Marathon training started... soccer coaching schedule looming on the horizon, promising to create insanity.. fully immersed in my new role at work.. playoff basketball and cigar smoking.. with a bit of wine and vodka tonics thrown into the mix.. ah yes, life feels full these days.
A bike wreck a few weeks ago reminded me of a few things. Firstly, gravel is slippery. Secondly, although we may learn skills at a young age, doesn't mean we can't still make mistakes. Thirdly, confidence is sometimes unhelpful - particularly when it creates too much speed around corners. Regardless.. my sore shoulder and healed, but slightly scarred arms serve as a mark of humility... along with a reminder to slow down a bit.
The residents, as well as staff, that I work with now create a continual reminder to slow down. Although I may have a hundred reports and tasks to complete, if a resident or staff requests attention or assistance, everything else is put on hold momentarily. Trust and rapport is threatened when/if taking that moment to slow down and focus entirely on the problem or concern or discussion presented is not taken.
I am reminded these days of my dear grandmother, Naomi.. who always always remembered to slow down and appreciate the small moments in life.
"jenny... come here and look at this, please!" (she said with such excitement in her voice, like a little kid discovering candy for the first time). As a rather active and distracted adolescent, I heaved a slight sigh.. but skipped over to join Grandma at the great tree in the backyard. She proceeded to show me a leaf, with red veins flexed through the rich, green background. At the moment, I don't recall exactly the topic of conversation, nor what fascinated her so entirely. But, it has always been a strong reminder of the need to appreciate the small and seemingly insignificant things in life - and more than that, be excited about them!
The world at times seeks to destroy that child-like joy and passion.. pointing to it in scoff, stating naivete. Partly I think we're afraid to find simple pleasure.. as though it somehow makes us feel less important or validated.
Lately, I've been presented quite frequently with trauma and its lasting effects. The cut of a knife is quick - leaving behind a deep wound, with severed tissue. It was a successful action with lasting impacts. Any acts to attempt healing to follow - such as cleaning and dressing the wound - will seem small and insignificant... after all, in a few hours, that wound will still exist and still hurt. And the person who created the cut should feel powerful and established - a job well done, right? The healers could choose to give up and not waste time treating the wound. Maybe to gain the same successful feelings, the arm should simply be amputated - it would reduce the risk of infection, take less time, and certainly be a significant act. But.. if we all ran around cutting and amputating.. not many would be left with all their limbs or body parts.
...somehow we must find ways to continue the healing process, however small each step may be. And, find pleasure and joy in those moments. Persevere.. it's not just about completing a task, but also maintaining a purpose without discouragement, despite the obstacles.
Nothing reminds me of perseverance more than running... and that brings Chariots of Fire to mind.
Eric Liddell said: "You came to see a race today. To see someone win...But I want you to do more than just watch a race. I want you to take part in it. I want to compare faith to running in a race. It's hard. It requires concentration of will, energy of soul. You experience elation when the winner breaks the tape - especially if you've got a bet on it. But how long does that last? You go home. Maybe you're dinner's burnt. Maybe you haven't got a job. So who am I to say, "Believe, have faith," in the face of life's realities? I would like to give you something more permanent, but I can only point the way. I have no formula for winning the race. Everyone runs in her own way, or his own way. And where does the power come from, to see the race to its end? From within."
Last year when I ran the Broad Street Run I felt mentally secure, but physically I wasn't prepared. In the last mile I struggled.. and both the course and spectators seemed to trick me into believing that a quarter mile was left, rather than the more accurate half. Now, generally that's not a great difference in distance, but after 9.5 miles of completely unprepared for running, a quarter mile is a big deal. I desperately wanted to stop. My feet slowed down as my heart sunk with the realization that the pain wasn't over. But then, a fellow runner matched my pace and said "come on, you can't stop.. you're so close. Dig deep. If you stop, I'll stop.. and I don't want to stop, so don't you dare". With a groan of despair of continued pain and smile of appreciation, the random runner and I completed the race together. My hamstrings hurt so badly, my lungs burned with lack of oxygen and all energy stores were depleted.. but I finished in exactly the time I targeted.
Without that runner taking a moment to help me... I would have stopped. My slightly delirious mind set after the race didn't allow me to find and thank him.. seems as though he just disappeared. But I hope that I live in that manner - to run the race marked out, with perseverance... and always take a moment to stop and help another along the way.
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