Note: yes, this is two blog posts in a day. Don’t get all excited, it’s a rare event, and not likely to happen again any time soon.
One of the things you pick up in Anonymous groups (I’m not talking about the Internet Hate Machine, don’t start hatin’), is that you are supposed to submit your will to God. God, god, Goddess, goddess, whatever, the god of your understanding. Sort of difficult when one is for all intents and purposes an atheist, wouldn’t you say?
The other day I realized my fabulous underroos were a bit, shall we say, snug. I complained to the Pseudo Hubby that eating late at night was not good for my body. He pointed out that maybe it had less to do with what and when I was eating, and more to do with the fact that since moving in here, the only exercise I’ve gotten has been transporting my ever growing ass up and down the stairs.
Well, hell, my equipment, outside of a couple of sets of dumbbells, is in storage. Along with most of my life. Including over half my shoes, but that’s really just an excuse to go buy more. My weights? That’s been somewhat distressful.
I like to work out, by myself, watching the news. I get myself all worked up with righteous indignation and work myself to the breaking point. Being one to not join a gym, that’s obviously not going to happen for awhile.
As I contemplated my shrinking underroos, I decided that perhaps I could just take advantage of the fact that the river is not terribly far away and begin going for walks in the evening. And perhaps convince myself to actually run again.
The other day, after a particularly annoying day at work and a very annoying commute home, I came in, changed my clothes, and decided to go for a walk. I went down to the garage with my iPhone in hand, and then realized I didn’t want the damn thing. I had taken the time recently to download a pedometer application, but I just didn’t want to carry it. So I set it on Pseudo Hubby’s work bench, told him I’d be back later, and headed out.
I started out at a decent pace, minding my breathing the whole time, and attempting to clear my head. As I came to an intersection, I realized there was a car waiting for me to go, so I started running. And I kept running. Not forever, not even for a long time, just long enough for my sad lungs to begin burning and my head to feel a little woozy.
I eventually slowed to a brisk walk again, and kept on my merry way. I had a vague idea of where I was heading, but completely unsure as to how far it was or how long it was going to take me. I kept my mind on my goal of just getting to the river and wandering through the woods.
At about this point, the Pseudo Hubby pulled up along side of me in his pretty little red car and inquired if I would like my phone.
“For what? I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
“Just in case?”
“In case of what?”
“I don’t know, just in case. Do you want it?”
“Thank you, really, but no.”
In hindsight, I should have grabbed it, started the app running, and stuffed it in my pocket. But at the time all I could think about was that I’d be annoyed if it rang, annoyed if I got a text, annoyed if I heard the familiar ding that tells me email has come in. I wanted absolutely no part of society, I wanted to be completely alone.
I made it to the park, sweaty, a little sore, and feeling seven sorts of proud of myself for having alternated walking and running a couple of times. I hit the trails and meandered through the woods, weaving my way in and out, sometimes hitting the river, sometimes not, for about an hour.
As I wandered up and down the trails, sometimes running, sometimes walking, I kept my mind open, but idle. I wanted to listen to the world around me, feel for my place in the universe, and open myself up to whatever it is that makes me a part of everything else. That, and only that, is the god of my understanding.
You feel the rhythm of the universe and assimilate yourself to its beat. You fall into it, and out of it, listening to the sounds of life around you. The slow gentle lapping of the river against the shore, the various critters living their lives unnoticed in the trees, the breeze rustling the canopy. The rhythm of life, a life that neither loves you nor hates you, but simply makes room for you if you play by its rules.
I noticed it was beginning to get darker, and while I’ve never been lost in the woods in my life, I decided that since I was adamant about not taking my phone with its fantastic GPS, perhaps I should head out. On the way home I once again alternated running with walking, and by the time I reached the house, I was calm and content with life.
I apologized for not taking my phone, explaining that I had just wanted to commune with god for a little while. His reply? “I didn’t see him out there.”
My thoughts? Perhaps you just aren’t looking in the right place. God isn’t some magnificent being sitting on a throne judging your life, but rather the small intricate weave of the universe that ties us all together.