Tag Archives: running

Ink Blots (Part 3 of 3): The Art of Forgetting

Inkblots3

“What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us….. God never hurries. There are no deadlines against which He must work. Only to know this is to quiet our spirits and relax our nerves.” A. W. Tozer

 

There is a very delicate balance between the value of remembering and forgetting. Too often, we forget what we should remember and we remember what we wish we could forget. Forgetting relevant and necessary information can inconvenience and even devastate daily life; but the same impact goes for remembering un-necessary and irrelevant memories and ideas. Such phenomenon can distract us from keeping our focus on our present worth and tasks at hand or hold us back from moving forward with ease and agility towards what we hope for. Contrary to what may make sense, the past and the future always linger in our present tense state of being and influence us in powerful ways. The art of forgetting is a mental method by which we maintain perspective on what matters most, ‘here and now’. Otherwise, we stumble and hinder ourselves from getting ‘there and then.’

The things that swirl in our brains at any given moment as well as the things that swirl in our universe itself (which incidentally our brains swirl in, as we consider what we swirl in) are incredibly complex systems. If we try to consider it all at once, our heads can spin off kilter. I have felt that feeling of vertigo when I try to comprehend too much at the same time. In fact, we are hard wired to compensate for this sensation – our bodily functions are divided into voluntary and involuntary operations to help us sanely survive. Think of what it would be like if we constantly had to remember to make our hearts beat or our lungs breathe. Think of what it would be like if we were consciously aware of every sensation we encounter in a moment while we try to manage decision making – every aroma, texture, visual detail, sounds compounded with calculating numbers, deciphering conversations etc. We’d keel over from the over-stimulation. There are moments when it is necessary to consider these factors, but only in proportion to the task we are aiming to complete. Our past experiences with all stimuli always have the potential to interfere with how we process our current train of thought and/or happenings in invalid ways. Our ability to enjoy or avoid some present factor can be readily influenced by our past happenstances. And our eagerness or hesitancy to get to the goal we are pursuing can falter our efforts in the process. Is your head spinning yet from all this consideration? Take a deep breath. Be still and simply know that we don’t have to have it all figured out right now. Discard the content from the past that seeks to sabotage our ability to do this. We so easily let guilt and shame dictate our present condition and we worry about the future in ways that inhibit our present capacity to truly be successful.

The practice of being still can also parallel the experience of how runners race. The first method provides us with the opportunity to readjust our body and mind. People who practice contemplative prayer use this exercise to help them focus on what is most important to most powerfully influence life factors. They simply repeat in a steady rhythm the phrase “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). To emphasize the power of being present with God and allowing God’s presence to be with us, they simplify this phrase word by word in their prayer time with each breath. They leave off the last word with each new breath. They pray, “be still and know that I am, be still and know that I, be still and know that,” until all that is left to say and pray is “be”. I have practice this meditative prayer method and found it powerfully grounding. The vertigo I feel dissipates and I can focus again in a way that is invigorating, purposeful and productive. For runners, the need to keep moving uses a similar methodology in a manner that provides perpetual motion and momentum. The apostle Paul describes this lifestyle practice so vividly and validly when he wrote to the church in Philippi. He wrote:

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:12-14)

I love to run. Though I’m not a fierce competitor, I relish the experience of concentration and coordination. When I hit my stride, each step has a rhythmic beat and my body and mind feel in sync. My thoughts are focused, even if deeply occupied with one thing or another. It is not all things all at once, lest I lose my awareness of the terrain I currently tread and trip. There is a definite freedom in forgetting – I have come to appreciate Paul’s cheer when he detailed, “forgetting what is behind and straining for what is ahead”.

Forgetting is its own effort that takes place purposefully to dis-inhibit us from the heavy thoughts or memories that seek to weigh and slow us down. If I let go of such recall; I can run more effortlessly towards a certain duration or destination. But, I must take care in making sure my muscles and movement keep pace. God’s glory is my focus and motivation. Anything that encumbers this effort must be forgotten.

References:

  1. Consider; photograph by Kamyee Wong Ladas and Jamie Wasson 1998
  2. Pursuit of God by A. W. Tozer
  3. Diary of An Old Soul by George MacDonald

 

 

 

Blood, Sweat and Tears (Part 1)

“Reach out your hand if your cup be empty. If your cup be full may it be again. Let it be known there is a fountain that was not made by the hands of men. There is a road, no simple highway. Between the dawn and the dark of night, and if you go no one may follow. That path is for your steps alone.”  The Grateful Dead

The Franklin Institute in Philadelphia has a one-of-a-kind exhibit that offers a larger than life model of the heart. It’s one of my favorite things at the museum – it invites you to walk through the whole heart, experiencing the inner workings of how blood flows. There are narrow steps that lead you up and down and all around through atriums and ventricles to playfully act out how blood is oxygenated and pumped in and out of the heart to the rest of the body. “The Giant Heart” is one of the features in the vascular exhibit, which is its own grand gallery in the museum. It’s like a romper room of real deal cardio-activities. You can crawl through arteries, or see how blocked arteries do, in fact, inhibit passage because they are filled with various amounts of plaque. It’s quite sobering. You can also step on a giant scale attached to a giant flask that fills with red liquid to display, based on weight, how much blood is coursing through your veins. It’s all so mesmerizing. Blood is a remarkable thing. I’ve stood on that scale more than a few times over the years and watched the flask fill up, topping off at about four and a half liters or so;  and I’ve realized I have little clue about what is really going on inside me at any given moment.

There’s a whole metropolis and countryside underneath my skin’s surface. All sorts of things are moving and grooving along highways, byways and rural roads; and I’m hardly aware of it. My heart is always at work, ensuring vitality from my head to my toes. It occurs involuntarily. It has to. It’s too important for me to be consciously in charge of it. I wouldn’t be able to think about anything else. There are times when I do (and need to) become conscious of my heart’s activity. During physical and/or situational stressors, my heart can start racing or pounding the pavement at an unsustainable or arrhythmic pace. I need to voluntarily respond with mindful repose (and possible cardiac consultation) to resume cruise control. My body’s vascular system has miraculous ways of not only clueing me in to step up and take action, but also calming me down to reconsider how to best continue the journey. Deep breaths are the first steps to refuel my heart with fresh perspective to carry on. My lungs assist my heart to do this; however, there are moments when I must metaphorically reach for the oxygen mask dangling in front of me to restore body and soul homeostasis. It’s like there’s this cardio-community inside me (and around me) that is always cheering me on, whether I’m aware of it or not. “Take heart” is more than a cliché to me. It implies that there is a force inside me (around me) that keeps me going, despite how stuck or shut down I feel. Am I willing to accept this reality? How consciously connected I am with this life force inside me (surrounding me) directly influences how intentionally grateful I am to be alive and to cheer others on to love their life as well. The writer of Hebrews in the New Testament summed it up similarly in this way:

“Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” (Hebrews 12:1-3)

A professor in grad school once challenged my class to consider why women seem most attuned and willing to acknowledge heart issues. We speculated about a mother’s need to provide nurturing support for her children. “Think more primitively”, he said. We discussed aspects of birth, then pregnancy and still he shook his head, noting not all women experience such things. He provocatively prompted us to consider every woman’s forced relationship with herself every month. Ironically, a man helped me understand how menstruation is a primitive process that involuntarily volunteers me to attentively and compassionately relate to life. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally, as a woman, I have to consciously contend with waiting, timing, discomfort, catharsis, clean-up and resolution. I don’t mean to be crass in discussing this, but to underscore how life is constantly proving itself to be something that is capable of enduring, overcoming and thriving throughout the journey. Men are not excluded from connecting to life with compassionate notions – although this may be one of the notable reasons why God provided Adam a “suitable helpmate” in designing Eve (Genesis 2:18). Eve was formed from Adam’s rib, a bone closest to the heart (Genesis 2:21). There is a heart-to-heart connection among all of us. If we go deep enough, we will find it. Our internal and external functions do not always run smoothly and, at times, are more dysfunctional than we’d like to admit or deal with. We need help. I recently worked with a birth client who lost a large amount of blood during delivery that caused her blood pressure and platelets to drop to dangerous levels. She received a transfusion of one and a half pints of blood, which help a bit; but soon after that intervention, another transfusion was required to ensure healthy equilibrium. She received an additional two pints, which significantly stabilized her status. The Red Cross diligently facilitates blood drives to ready reserves for just such purposes. Hmmm, I know another cross that provided a much needed soul transfusion to ensure that we could keep living and loving.

For eons, the symbolic relevance of the heart has signified an emotional and/or spiritual reality that exists inside us and between us. The true essence of a person has often been believed to dwell in a person’s heart. When renown Scottish medical missionary, Dr. David Livingstone, died in 1873 in Africa, the African nationals buried his heart there before sending his body back to Britain for formal burial. Dr. Livingstone had dedicated his life to serve the African people. They were keenly aware of how much he loved them, so they wanted to keep his heart near them. This may seem gruesome, but it is a tangible tale of how we experience life, specifically love. Whether we will it or not, our hearts are designed to perpetuate life and even love. Our hearts are as scientific as they are sacred. They are part of an essential network, inside and out, that motivates us onward to keep going and even enjoy the ride. And we do not trek this journey alone. I find comfort in being part of this collective effort.

 

References:

  1. The Bloodmobile by They Might Be Giants (video featured at the Franklin Institute)
  2. Ripple by The Grateful Dead
  3. Visit the Franklin Institute Science Museum
  4. Human Biology by Starr & McMillan
  5. Lost Women of the Bible by Carolyn Custis-James
  6. How to donate blood
  7. History of Dr. David Livingstone