As a natural mover and athlete, I've always been drawn to the metaphor in movement. My first true love was gymnastics when, as a girl of seven, I discovered abundant joy in this moment now by flinging my body through time and space, across the vault, over the bars and head over heels through mid-air. Competitive by nature, I hold myself and my own abilities to an extremely high standard. When I am not reaching for the heights that I know I am capable of, I begin to feel petty and envious. However, I am equally comfortable playing the role of coach and cheerleader. For one of my truths is that I want us all to win - together. Softball taught me the meaning of cooperation and teamwork, while marching in the drill team and performing with the color guard demonstrated the power and potent imagery of many parts moving as one entity.
While backpacking through New Zealand in 2001, I came to view each day's arduous hike, and the vertical ascents laying between myself and the next hut, as a walking meditation. Just like life, there will be many steep mountains to face, each seemingly insurmountable. Yet, if I just breathe and place one foot in front of the other, I eventually arrive at my destination. Disc Golf is similar in that I have both of my feet firmly placed upon my starting point and my vision clearly sees my end goal. Nonetheless, most of the time my unwieldy arm winds up and lets go of the heavy disc in such a manner that I end up taking a much more circuitous route than I planned in getting my disc into the hole. Still, even if it I shoot far over par, I always end up where I intend. The point then becomes can I enjoy the conversation, perhaps a beer, the scenery and the sky, along the way?
Recently, I was left to my own devices to move Shakti's heavy and cumbersome couch out of my cave in the back of the Prosperity Hive and into our honey-colored wood floor studio. I did what it took two grown men to do - turning that thick piece of furniture onto its side, twisting and turning, hopping from the back of the couch to the front, just to squeeze it through the narrower door. As difficult as it was, I didn't give up because I took the task on as though it were synonymous with my hardest emotional block. I knew that if I could move that couch through the door, then I could move my own Self from where I've felt emotionally and professionally stuck for too many years now and on to the other side of whatever is to come next.
I have also jumped back on the bicycle again, and I approach each lumbering, San Diego hill with this same mindset. Bearing down into my core and accessing my energy from this place, I locomote that bike up these hills. Remembering how to tap into my own, internal power source while feeling the cool wind against my head of brown, flowing locks is a freedom that very little in life compares to. Join me!
