Patience. My mom always said it was a virtue I never had. She's probably right. When something needs to get done or I want it to be done, I want it done immediately. I've learned to temper the urge as I got older, but that doesn't mean I ever learned patience. I think it's time I learned it. I started running again.
Last August, I stopped running completely because of a hip injury. When I got the diagnosis and was told to stay away from high impact sports, I was devastated. It meant I couldn't run the Chicago Marathon I had registered for. I picked it up again here or there after my doctor said it was okay. But, I never got back into the swing of things again. While I was out on injury, I focused on cycling and spinning. I completely immersed myself in cycling last fall in preparation for El Tour de Tucson. If I couldn't run the Chicago Marathon, I could certainly give the 109-mile race my all. So, I was extra cautious and stayed away from an extensive running schedule, worried I would throw my hip out of commission again.
Since I left the sport from injury, I've run here or there but never anything more than seven miles - usually closer to four or five miles. Now that I'm starting back up again I've learned that it's not strength, endurance, or even cardiovascular strength that I need the most; it's patience and a little bit of faith in the process.
I need patience because I'm essentially starting from scratch. I'm starting from those days when I never called it running; I called it shuffling. I'm starting from the days when just finishing the mileage was a success let alone achieving a specific time goal. I'm starting from the days where more people pass me than I them. It's frustrating. I want to be back at my old pace. I want to be able to run a half-marathon without a problem. I don't just want these lofty goals generally. I want them now. But, I don't have them now. I won't have them for awhile. It's probably what kept me away from the sport for so long. I was endlessly frustrated with myself and decided the process wasn't worth it.
Slowly but surely, I'm learning though. I did a long run at a pace that would've mortified me a year ago. But, I felt strong for most of the run and truly enjoyed shuffling along on the river path. I'm learning to appreciate that getting back to speed is a process. And, I'm learning that the process is just as important and exciting as the finished product. And, I'm learning that this lesson will serve me well in other areas of life as well, like writing and songwriting.
I want so desperately to be done with my current writing project because it's so painful to endure, but I know it's going to take a lot of time to get everything down and coherent. I'm learning to accept that the process is worth it though. Many of my songs are close to a finished product within two hours. Others have taken upwards of three months. None of them though are ever good when I rush the process. Sometimes it takes playing the chord progressions over and over again. Or maybe it takes running through the work in progress again and again until that perfect rhyme or melody variation sinks into place. Like running, the process of writing - fiction or songs - is as important and exciting as the finished product. And, like running, appreciating the process takes patience and a little bit of faith that it'll all come out okay.
Until next time...peace.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Everybody Hurts Sometimes
Alright, I admit it. I've been neglecting my blog. But, to be fair, I have had a lot going on in my life. By a lot I mean just a lot going on in one area of my life. I let it take the front seat in my life ever since the Bar Exam. Most of the time it took the front seat because of the actions of others. However, I do have to admit that at times, I let it take the front seat. I let it bother me. I let them bother me. I let the stupid actions of one man run my life.
I did need to process everything I was going through, so I couldn't just shove it away. But, I abandoned some of the coping mechanisms I had learned to use at the exact moments I needed them most. When I neglected this blog, I neglected writing in general.
Writing, whether it's music, fiction, non-fiction, journaling, or blogging, has meant a great deal for me over the last year. I've used it to face a lot of things. I've used it to find answers others were unwilling to give me. I've used it to talk things out with myself. I've used it to heal. That's why I was so surprised to find myself abandon it when life all around me seemed to be crashing down.
Then I received a wonderful gift in the mail from a very good friend. It was actually two parts, but the part important for this blog was a book called Writing as a Way of Healing: How Telling Our Stories Transforms Our Lives. It reminded me how much I had depended on writing in the past. It reminded me how it could help again.
So I followed the advice of the book and made myself sit and write, or at least brainstorm. And what would you know...one new song and the first drafts of two new short stories came out. Each of them helped me comprehend and process a different thing in my life. And, while writing each of them brought to the surface pain I hadn't yet dealt with, it also helped me re-shape the story in my own words - not re-write history, but claim ownership to it in my own words. This was particularly important in one instance because I literally was the victim who had her voice taken away from her by a man she trusted. Writing it out helped me find my voice again. It helped me own a situation I had no control over and that I had let run my life. It helped me start healing from the mistreatment.
So I'm coming back to the words with those stories and these blogs and promising to be a more diligent writer and, hence, a more diligent blogger. It may not be for you though. It may be for my own healing. Maybe we can even heal together...lol. :)
Until next time...peace.
I did need to process everything I was going through, so I couldn't just shove it away. But, I abandoned some of the coping mechanisms I had learned to use at the exact moments I needed them most. When I neglected this blog, I neglected writing in general.
Writing, whether it's music, fiction, non-fiction, journaling, or blogging, has meant a great deal for me over the last year. I've used it to face a lot of things. I've used it to find answers others were unwilling to give me. I've used it to talk things out with myself. I've used it to heal. That's why I was so surprised to find myself abandon it when life all around me seemed to be crashing down.
Then I received a wonderful gift in the mail from a very good friend. It was actually two parts, but the part important for this blog was a book called Writing as a Way of Healing: How Telling Our Stories Transforms Our Lives. It reminded me how much I had depended on writing in the past. It reminded me how it could help again.
So I followed the advice of the book and made myself sit and write, or at least brainstorm. And what would you know...one new song and the first drafts of two new short stories came out. Each of them helped me comprehend and process a different thing in my life. And, while writing each of them brought to the surface pain I hadn't yet dealt with, it also helped me re-shape the story in my own words - not re-write history, but claim ownership to it in my own words. This was particularly important in one instance because I literally was the victim who had her voice taken away from her by a man she trusted. Writing it out helped me find my voice again. It helped me own a situation I had no control over and that I had let run my life. It helped me start healing from the mistreatment.
So I'm coming back to the words with those stories and these blogs and promising to be a more diligent writer and, hence, a more diligent blogger. It may not be for you though. It may be for my own healing. Maybe we can even heal together...lol. :)
Until next time...peace.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Our Lives Are Made In These Small Hours
Too often we look around and only see the bad. And why not? Sometimes life really isn't the kindest to us. Sometimes life hands us lemons that make some pretty crappy lemonade. Sometimes we have so many unfortunate things and events in our lives that it hides any and all good. It's in those times those that we have to dig as deep as we possible and scrape the bottom for any bit of strength we have. We need that strength to scrutinize closely our lives and find something worth living for - something worth moving forward for. It could just be some tiny moment in time that gives the spark we need to go just a little farther.
Last night, I lived one of those moments.
As usual, I attended the regular Tuesday night spin class taught by my favorite instructor and very dear friend. She often plays my music for warm-ups and cool-downs in her classes, so I was expecting that. I did not expect what transpired in class. We started our first big climb of the class to strumming I knew I had heard before. Within a few seconds, my voice came booming over the loud speakers of the class. We began our climb to one of the newest songs I recorded: "Extraordinary." I couldn't believe it. It was surreal to be pushing and pulling against resistance to the rhythm of my own voice. I closed my eyes and rode. As the final chorus played, the instructor encouraged us; "Be extraordinary," she told us. I closed my eyes tighter. How could this be happening to me when just two hours earlier I felt so depleted?
Last night's spin class proved that our lives might be filled with difficulties, but it's the small moments that make all the struggle worth it. It's the five minutes of hearing a song you wrote just a month previously booming over the loud speaker. It's the five minutes of watching everyone in the class move to the beat of your melody. It's the friend who believes in your talent enough to play that song. It's the people who constantly encourage and challenge you to be the best person you can be by both words and example. It's the people who supported you when you weren't strong enough to support yourself. It's the glimmer in your eye when you believe, if only briefly, that you can achieve the goal you've always dreamed of attaining. It's the smile on your face when these small moments can breathe life into you.
It's easy to dwell on the difficult and the struggle. In fact, sometimes it's important to dwell on it while we process and deal. But if we can dig deep enough, we just might find the strength to decide if the small moments are worth the struggle. I can't say you'll always believe they are; I can't say I have always believed it. But, I hope you will at least be strong enough to consider it.
Until next time...peace.
Last night, I lived one of those moments.
As usual, I attended the regular Tuesday night spin class taught by my favorite instructor and very dear friend. She often plays my music for warm-ups and cool-downs in her classes, so I was expecting that. I did not expect what transpired in class. We started our first big climb of the class to strumming I knew I had heard before. Within a few seconds, my voice came booming over the loud speakers of the class. We began our climb to one of the newest songs I recorded: "Extraordinary." I couldn't believe it. It was surreal to be pushing and pulling against resistance to the rhythm of my own voice. I closed my eyes and rode. As the final chorus played, the instructor encouraged us; "Be extraordinary," she told us. I closed my eyes tighter. How could this be happening to me when just two hours earlier I felt so depleted?
Last night's spin class proved that our lives might be filled with difficulties, but it's the small moments that make all the struggle worth it. It's the five minutes of hearing a song you wrote just a month previously booming over the loud speaker. It's the five minutes of watching everyone in the class move to the beat of your melody. It's the friend who believes in your talent enough to play that song. It's the people who constantly encourage and challenge you to be the best person you can be by both words and example. It's the people who supported you when you weren't strong enough to support yourself. It's the glimmer in your eye when you believe, if only briefly, that you can achieve the goal you've always dreamed of attaining. It's the smile on your face when these small moments can breathe life into you.
It's easy to dwell on the difficult and the struggle. In fact, sometimes it's important to dwell on it while we process and deal. But if we can dig deep enough, we just might find the strength to decide if the small moments are worth the struggle. I can't say you'll always believe they are; I can't say I have always believed it. But, I hope you will at least be strong enough to consider it.
Until next time...peace.
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