Body of Experience

I love both Theodore Roethke and Robert Frost. I love to read the poetry of both, interviews with both, and about the lives of both. Today, I learned that both men were walkers, physical walkers. It makes sense, really; their works reveal a quiet, observant connection to their surroundings. It makes sense that to achieve that connection, to slow down and notice...both men walked. Poetry is comprised of "feet" for a reason, I suppose. How could we read Robert Frost without realizing that walking was important to him? When the two roads diverged in the woods, he was there...walking.

Initiation: Head out the door and walk for twenty minutes. Notice your surroundings. Notice your mood. Notice any shifts in your mood. Above all, notice any answers, insights, stratagems, or inspirations that come to you. Back home, head directly to the page. Record your experience and your findings.

I'm not sure that Cameron (much less Frost) would approve of my deviation, but rather than walk for my initiation, I jogged. It is part of a new morning routine for me. I meet with a running club in the mornings (before the crack of dawn even). They run. I jog...well actually, I trot along at a walking pace (but with a bounce). Now usually, this is not a meditative time for me. It is a painful three miles that I strive to simply push through. Not exactly a time for a Robert Frost moment. But this morning...tragedy struck...my phone battery died and the music stopped. That's right. There was no music thumping in my ear buds to entertain/distract me for the last 20-25 minutes of my run. Thus, the completion of this initiation.

I find it interesting that most of my ponderings for the rest of the run were spiritual. I am striving to be stronger in my faith, but I am not an overly spiritual person. Perhaps it was because "Behold" (one of my favorite religious songs) played shortly before the music stopped. Perhaps it was because it was still dark out and the streets were deserted and peaceful. For whatever reason, my mind wandered to my faith and even to the faith of Ryan. I thought. I prayed. I sang (in my head only...due to heavy breathing) the songs I associate with ACTS. It made the run more tolerable...less painful.

I concentrated more on the rhythm of my cadence and of my breathing. And I came to comfortable with being with myself in the silence. I thought about yesterday’s mass, although I don’t remember why. I thought about the ACTS retreats I attended, specifically the first one when I was a participant. I remembered the Coming Down the Mountain book that I read after and suddenly wanted to read it again.

I would have thought that my mind would have been more focused, thinking mainly of goals and fitness and health, but apparently not. It seems that when left alone with my thoughts and my own rhythm, my mind wanders where God wants it…on thoughts of him.