Sitting in my car after a 4-plus mile walk, in a teensy parking lot built at the intersection of three walking paths and roads, with the wide open hills of east central Kentucky all around me. Except for the occasional vehicle or human on the paths, I was completely alone in the quiet. I don't even recall if it was sunny or cloudy, but I experienced a moment of zen, just listening to my playlist for the thousandth time.
I need to stretch and lift weights. I know this. I am convinced of the science around this MUST DO. And yet, I haven't added it to my daily (or weekly) routine. Doing the stretching with something else, like cooking breakfast is a perfect way to make it work for you. For me, seeking out ripe strawberries from my patch while I pulled weeds around the plants was my perfect moment for today before I sat to write my words. Now with words down, I move to a workout.
For me making something a MUST DO almost certainly guarantees I will not do it. Rebel heart or something. Instead, I think "what would feel good?" I started with the sun salutations to get my stiff back feeling less stiff. Maybe try to find one little thing to tie to breakfast and go from there?
I've also started asking, what would a healthy person do - since I have this image of being healthy. I think my mindset is rebelling against adding this. I'll try the small change method. :)
This week I planted all of my containers on our back patio. This morning I peeked out of the window and saw a gorgeous towhee hopping from pot to pot, inspecting the soil. They are quite wild and don’t come close when they see us - I mostly hear their calls in the forest behind our house. It was a moment.
Great writing... Last week I took a run in a blistering hot afternoon in a local park. I was just about the only one there. After the run, which was a challenge in the heat, I simply walked for another miles, catching my breath and listening to the birds. I was right there.
Sitting in my car after a 4-plus mile walk, in a teensy parking lot built at the intersection of three walking paths and roads, with the wide open hills of east central Kentucky all around me. Except for the occasional vehicle or human on the paths, I was completely alone in the quiet. I don't even recall if it was sunny or cloudy, but I experienced a moment of zen, just listening to my playlist for the thousandth time.
Wonderful!
I need to stretch and lift weights. I know this. I am convinced of the science around this MUST DO. And yet, I haven't added it to my daily (or weekly) routine. Doing the stretching with something else, like cooking breakfast is a perfect way to make it work for you. For me, seeking out ripe strawberries from my patch while I pulled weeds around the plants was my perfect moment for today before I sat to write my words. Now with words down, I move to a workout.
For me making something a MUST DO almost certainly guarantees I will not do it. Rebel heart or something. Instead, I think "what would feel good?" I started with the sun salutations to get my stiff back feeling less stiff. Maybe try to find one little thing to tie to breakfast and go from there?
I've also started asking, what would a healthy person do - since I have this image of being healthy. I think my mindset is rebelling against adding this. I'll try the small change method. :)
That’s a great way to think, what would a healthy person do.
This week I planted all of my containers on our back patio. This morning I peeked out of the window and saw a gorgeous towhee hopping from pot to pot, inspecting the soil. They are quite wild and don’t come close when they see us - I mostly hear their calls in the forest behind our house. It was a moment.
Oh, how lovely! Catching sight of a bird you rarely see is so thrilling.
Beautiful post! And an excellent reminder to live in the moment. Thank you.
Great writing... Last week I took a run in a blistering hot afternoon in a local park. I was just about the only one there. After the run, which was a challenge in the heat, I simply walked for another miles, catching my breath and listening to the birds. I was right there.
Thank you. My husband runs, and I see him at moments like that—hot and pleased and very much alive right there. Wonderful.