30. Catalog of Beauty

“I am not against critique, but the world’s need to nick pic everything is a dis-ease. What I crave is holiness. We are so far away from the heart, when only the head leads with only what is wrong. How about the million beauties you walked by today and did not see? Name them. The world needs/ I need your catalog of beauty. What is your catalog of beauty?”

                                  
                                                                -Glenis Redmond

Since beginning this series on walking, my friends have sent me articles and quotes about walking and its benefits. I've also stumbled on a few myself, like the one above. 

 

It feels so relevant to today. So much nick picking, so much judgment. So much emphasis on what is wrong. I was struck by the sentence I put in bold type. My walking habit has helped me focus on “the million beauties” I walk by. But now months into this habit and nearly one month of writing about it, I have figured out that I pay attention to the beauty around me regardless of if I am walking or not.

This heightened sense of attention may be one of the best byproducts of walking as meditation. The built-in slowed pace of walking makes paying attention easier than say noticing from the driver's seat of a car, but it's a practice. The more I pay attention, the more I see. 

 

Today's catalog of beauty:

• The lyrics of the hymns we sang at church that spoke of hospitality and inclusion. Especially these words from Community of Christ Sings #274:
  
  
  “Oh, may our hearts and minds be opened, fling the church doors open wide. May there be room enough for everyone inside. For in God there is a welcome, in God we all belong. May that welcome be our song.”
  
  
• Friendship shared and expanded over hamburgers and ice cream after church.
  
  
• Attending a symphony performance with my daughter. In costume.
  
  
• When she rested her sleepy, sweaty head on my shoulder during the performance.
  
  
• Driving home, taking in the beauty of the enormous homes on Lindell Avenue. Their chrysanthemums were vibrant and eye-catching. 
   
• Cadence: “It's just nice looking at all these big houses.” Appreciation for things we do not have and not feeling a need to get them or feel bad for not having them.
  
  
• Costume off, feet free of hours of wearing high-heeled boots. Lounging in cozy pajamas under an antique quilt, sipping tea, texting a fellow writer, and working on this post.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

29. Change of Season

“Winds in the east, mist coming in. / Like somethin' is brewin' and bout to begin. / Can't put me finger on what lies in store, / But I fear what's to happen all happened before.” - Bert, Mary Poppins

My walks have been breezier than usual the past few days, and there's been a bite in the air. I've been grateful for my jacket and fingerless gloves I wear in my office. Bert's right, something's brewing: cooler temperatures, falling leaves, the fountain drying up for the season. I feel a twinge of something. It's not sadness exactly, but an appreciation for what this season has brought me—peace, calm, confidence, hope. And curiosity for what a season of walking in autumn and winter will gift me. I know that if I look for lessons and insights, I will find them. 

The change in season feels momentous to me because I have been so attentive in this current season. I have grown so much. Healed in ways I didn't expect and am feeling so strong and ready to take on whatever life blows my way. 

I plan on continuing my daily walks, albeit bundled up. I will likely suspend my walks on icy days, but otherwise, my plan is to walk through the arctic winter like I walked through the blazing summer.

This month's daily writing has been a wonderful ramp up to returning to daily work on parts two and three of my novel. As I walked and let my life unfold before me, I sensed new rhythms settling in. Autumn and winter feel right to be the months for the heavy lifting of writing larger works of fiction (or whatever strikes my fancy). In those months there are fewer demands on my time. No lawns to mow. No softball games to cheer on.

I am certain that walking at lunch will be a beautiful accompaniment to the writing I do either early in the morning or late in the evening. I'm excited to see how my story takes shape in this new season. 

Landscaping crews are changing out the flowers and planting shrubs

I like the drizzly days

Note the leaves that have gathered at the base of the fountains

28. Beauty of Diversity

The floral displays I have walked past in downtown Clayton have been a source of inspiration and comfort. Bursts of color and unique pairings have been a welcome sight for this weary soul. I took a lot of photos to help build a portfolio of ideas I might want to incorporate in my own lawn.

As I passed the Clayton Town Hall and its magnificent display of plant life a metaphor came to mind. What makes this garden so lovely is its variety. Each blossom on its own is a marvel, but if the garden was full of only one type of plant or flower, its beauty would not be so captivating. Lovely yes, but not so breathtaking. 

 

Our diversity—the things that set us apart—really is what makes humanity beautiful. I'm sad when people can't see it, but encouraged when we do. 

 

27. Singing and Dancing on the Walking Path

Music coupled with the pause at the fountains has been a powerful way to calm and soothe me in this walking habit. Podcasts took up most of my walking time, but when I take a break from podcasts, I have listened to the Hamilton musical soundtrack, Ingrid Michaelson's new album, It Doesn't Have to Make Sense, and Jon McLaughlin's albums, Like Us and Promising Promises. I have a tendency to play an album on repeat for days or weeks at a time. It takes a lot for me to get bored with music. The more I listen the more nuance I hear. I love discovering new things with each listen.

 

I've hit a busy, often stressful period at work. One day, I found myself standing at the fountains, singing and dancing to a song on repeat. Martha Beck says that singing is a great stress reliever, and I have put that notion to the test. 

 

One of the lovely things about growing older and becoming more comfortable in my skin, is how much less self-conscious I feel about the way I look, move, and feel. If someone had seen me bouncing to the music and singing along, I would have smiled and waved and kept on going. 

 

I have felt the mornings' tensions ooze out of the bottoms of my feet repeatedly, and I am grateful each time.

I feel an extra bounce in my step as I walk to upbeat tunes. I am swept along by thoughtful lyrics. Combined with movement, I return to the office feeling lighter and better able to cope with whatever I face in the afternoon. 

 

26. Injury

One evening about a month ago, I changed into dress clothes for a work event. I traded my comfy, black Clarks Mary Janes for a pair of shiny black pumps. As I walked to my car, I noticed I had to scrunch up my toes to keep the shoe from flopping off my heel. I made this repetitive motion with the toes of my right foot every time I walked.

When I took off my shoes five hours later, and placed my foot flat on the floor, I felt the pain,like a cramp in the middle of my foot. I sat on the side of my daughter's bed catching up from our long days apart and helping her wind down and fall asleep. I massaged my foot, breathing deeply to cope with the pain I was feeling in the arch of my foot. As I breathed and kneaded my foot, I felt a knot form.

 

From there and for the next two weeks I had a distinct limp. I tried a heating pad. I resorted to wearing my running shoes to work. They provided some relief, so I wore them all the time.

I skipped a day of walking because the pain was so sharp. The next day I returned to the walking habit. It was slow, painful going. As I was making my way back to my office, I scanned my posture and the way I was waddling down the street to avoid the pain. I recognized this tentative movement. Ah, yes, I thought. I'm walking like I had when I was pregnant. Huge and out of balance. Measuring my every step. It was strange to feel that again. 

That day's walk was slow and agonizing. It was a lesson in appreciation. I wanted healthy feet so that I could continue my walking habit. I was also caught in the middle. Resting my foot might offer some relief and help it heal quicker. But not moving at all could introduce new problems. 

 

I thought about the pain I'd been through in the past few years and how ultimately modifying my life a little bit, and continuing to push forward through the pain had ended up being the best way to cope.

In the case of the foot, my running shoes were my modification. They offered support, extra padding, and were able to absorb most of the shock. Attentive friends, early bed times, good books, and time had been the modifications for the emotional pain I had endured.

And then, I visited family out of state, and my physician brother-in-law asked how my foot was. He examined it and declared that I'd injured my plantar fascia. A few hours later, he offered to massage it and work out the knot that had formed. “It's going to really hurt as I work on it, but it really will be worth it. You'll feel better after I massage it.”

He was right about both. The pain and discomfort were hard to bear, but then the next morning, I could put my full weight on my foot and walk normally. I hadn't been able to do that for two weeks. It was a relief. It was also a reminder that sometimes things have to get worse or hurt more before they can get better. If we stop at the edge of the pain—be it physical or emotional—we risk never getting to the good stuff. To the place where it doesn't hurt any more. Where we can walk without limping.

25. Poetry on the Pavement

One day I took a longer-than-usual walk to Barnes and Noble. Just a few blocks past where I tripped down the sidewalk as I smiled at the attractive blond, I heard the most beautiful poem read by its author on Elizabeth Gilbert's Magic Lessons podcast:

Breaking Surface

by Mark Nepo 

 

Let no one keep you from your journey,

no rabbi or priest, no mother

who wants you to dig for treasures

she misplaced, no father

who won't let one life be enough,

no lover who measures their worth

by what you might give up,

no voice that tells your in the night

it can't be done.

Let nothing dissuade you

from seeing what you see

or feeling the winds that make you

want to dance alone

or go where no one

has yet to go.

You are the only explorer.

Your heart, the unreadable compass.

Your soul, the shore of a promise

too great to be ignored.

I am not a big fan of poetry, never have been. But my favorite book, Love Walked In, is written by a poet named Marisa de los Santos, and her poetry definitely enhances her poetry. I've heard many times over that writers need to read and study poetry to improve their word choices and writing. Nepo's poem and hearing him read it, piqued my interest in pursuing poetry in a more determined way.

Each episode of the Magic Lessons podcast is a discussion on the creative life and how to overcome the obstacles that often meet artists on their journey.

Nepo talked about the importance of being a verb rather than a noun. Writing and creating versus being a writer or creator. His point was that being a verb has far fewer limitations than the noun. Writing and creating is far less restrictive or confining than being a writer or creator. When you're writing or creating, anything can be a canvas: poetry, creative non-fiction, fiction, cereal box marketing. But if you're merely a writer, one novel or one poem can box you in. Make it harder to move out of a label, genre, or mindset. 

 

This concept can apply beyond creative pursuits. Mothering vs. mother; gardening vs. gardener; helping vs. helper; walking vs. walker. 

 

I suspect I was more open to Mark Nepo's poem because I was walking. I was moving my whole body as I was taking in new information. The movement helped me metabolize something new, and thereby made me more receptive.

24. Cultivating Solitude

This week I reread two posts I wrote in January. Read them here and here. I am so grateful that I wrote each post. I risked being honest with myself and in doing so, I created a barometer reading for my emotions. In January, I could not imagine achieving the level of peace and calm I now feel in October. It reinforces the power of the changing seasons of one's life, and that nothing lasts forever. 

 

I was still reeling from all the open space in my schedule that shared custody of my daughter carved into my weekly routine. Not seeing her every day was hard. It was a painful reminder that the decision to divorce, which was the very best one for us, also came with a price—a really high one.

I was uncomfortable with solitude in the early months of this year. 

During the panic earlier this year, I created yet another "rule" or guideline for myself. I told my friends that I would not even think of dating until I turned 43. Since I have a penchant for naming things, I named this thing Project 43. The idea was that to keep the panic of not dating (or actually dating) at bay, I would simply declare that it was not an option for two years thereby freeing my chattery mind from thinking of it. It made perfect sense to me at the time. I know some friends were skeptical, but bless them, they didn't push me on this.

Walking alone everyday helped fortify the idea that being alone can be a positive, nourishing state of being. and certainly not one to fear or run from.  

What I see more clearly now having literally walked through these months and emotions, is that Project 43 was about controlling the uncontrollable and easing the pain of the loneliness I felt. Walking has soothed those feelings. I feel less panicked about being alone and in fact, I have found joy in my own company. I'm fun! I think interesting things! I listen to great music and read interesting books! I learned how to not fear what an evening or an entire weekend looks like on my own. 

 

Ten months later I RELISH my solitude. I have so many things to think and do and be when I'm with myself. I feel far less needy. I have a finely-tuned gauge for when I need to reach out to people and when I can manage on my own. My friends hear from me far less now than they did ten months ago. I know it's from this place of strength, confidence, and peace that good things will emerge. 

Recently, friends reminded me of Project 43 and it felt like such a foreign concept and so needless. I am really content where I am and with myself. I am open to what comes my way.

 

If I've come this far in ten months, I can't help but wonder where I'll be in another ten.