Today’s post on Notes My Heart Wrote is a guest post. I would like to introduce you to Sarah, who writes over at The Village Crier: Musings and meditations from a curious soul who asks too many questions.
I recently fell ill with some allergy/spring sickness combination. This is not unusual as I work in a sea of microbiomes and petri dishes (aka- public schools).
This illness came equipped with a three day fever, congested sinuses, and a blazing headache that knocked me out of my routine for nearly three weeks. Both my early morning writing practice and evening exercises were replaced by an extra hour of sleep- all in the name of rest and healing.
A few years ago, I would have pushed myself harder, suffering through the malaise of congestion and discomfort, dragging out the illness with my stubborn addiction to productivity. However today, after surviving a pandemic and public service burnout, I relish the opportunity to pause.
And so, I sat, slept, and prioritized rest. My body was busy healing. And that was enough productivity for me.
Until it was time to climb out of the pause and return to the rhythm of life.
Say Yes and Show Up
As Ta Hiron discusses in her eloquent post How the journey of sea swimming parallels the voyage of life itself, simply showing up to the ebb and flow of everyday existence takes enormous, continuous levels of courage. Assessing your needs and saying yes to rest in a society of burnout takes courage. Listening to your inner wisdom and saying yes to your heartsong in a society that values monetized productivity takes courage.
We express that courage through commitment. The visible, viable, determined “yes” day after day. Even when conditions are tough. Especially when conditions are tough. We show up and let the path unfold, trusting the universe to guide us on our journey.
Some days the energy is low. The conditions feel unaligned. Perhaps we’re extra tired. Perhaps we’re recovering from an illness. Perhaps heavy demands from work or family occupy our mind and body. But, we still show up and work through the routine like a moving meditation.
Lay Out the Gear.
Both writing and running require minimal, basic tools of the trade.
Evening runs are accompanied by my seasoned shoes, headphones, sunglasses, and phone with a tracker and audiobook at the ready.
Writing happens in the early hours before the rest of the house awakes. I come to the table with a pen, notebook, and sometimes a laptop. Gentle ambience is cultivated with candles, low light, and soft music. And a cuppa to welcome the morning mind (thanks, Beth).
Start Slow and Observe.
While the energies of running and writing seem opposite, they are actually cousins inviting adjacent explorations. Along with open sea swimming, running and writing are cross training efforts that support each other through the opportunity to be “vigilant and attuned to the subtle rhythms of life” as expressed by Ta.
The first few pages and kilometers are simply about waking up, both the body and mind. No judgment, simply allowing and observing. Releasing the tension of a tight mind and muscles and trusting that we will find our flow.
I observe the way my feet strike the pavement- heavy or light? Swift or languid? Hesitant or determined? I examine my surroundings, a familiar path, but different daily conditions. I smell charcoal in the air and imagine a family enjoying the spring evening. The clouds flirt with the sun and make shadows dance around my feet. The wind is gentle and supportive on my back at just the right moments when I crave refreshment.
In the early morning hour, the pen gently glides across the page, serving as the patient scribe of my thoughts. Describing scattered scenes, questions, and images free of form or structure. Spilling the words as they arrive in twilight, the elusive zone of wonder between sleep and awake.
In both writing and running, we assess during the warm up. Asking what feels good today? What pace feels right? Where can I stretch and grow? Are there any aches that need to be monitored?
Because how we show up today is different from previous runs and writing mornings. Familiar, perhaps, but always different. Today, my left knee has a slight ache or my right ankle feels wonky. Today, my brain is finally letting the words flow. A shift from the topic that has dammed me up for two weeks and the ink is back on the paper.
Both are challenges that arise from commitment. Both present opportunities to improve the practice because adversity makes us stronger. After all, that’s how we improve in anything, right? Through struggle and perseverance. Continuing to show up with intention despite the blocks and aches.
Embrace the Magic in the Middle
Flow in craft and form tends to emerge after the halfway mark. The motivating words of Tara Mohr, Brene Brown, or Beth Kempton blend into the rhythm of my breathing. Inhale for two beats, exhale for two. A meditation is born as wisdom pours into my ears. And I am unstoppable.
The warm-up stage in writing is crafted with careful, neat lettering. My handwriting transitions into the rushed cursive monstrosity of a mind on a mission as I dive into flow. The energy is magical when my mind runs faster than my pen as it struggles to keep pace with my thoughts. Rhythm emerges as the pen demands a steady, consistent stream of thought, and I flow on the high of wordsmithing.
Each new endeavour invites a question, an exploration that needs to be gnawed on until clarity is granted. We let the ink capture our thoughts. Teasing out our subconscious beliefs. Revealing layers of thoughts, feelings, and truths. Our breath mingles with the rhythm of the footfalls inviting questions and ideas to bounce around like ping pong balls. Memories, lessons, and clarity sprout between breaths and pen strokes.
In the divine space of flowing energy, we create our reality. We untangle our messy thoughts, letting them spill upon the page or pavement as we unpack old beliefs or difficult circumstances and build space for the new. There’s magic in the slow, intentional visualization of writing. There’s alchemy in the merging of thought and movement. Both draw upon mental and physical energy to shift, create, and manifest our dreams. The clarity and determination found in the process of writing and running allows us to intentionally build the life we want to live.
Next...
Some days I don’t want to show up. I don’t want to get out of bed at 4:30 am to put pen to paper. I don’t want to lace up and curse the wind or condemn the pollen. I just want to rest. But, despite my reluctance, I never regret it- a run or a write. I’m always glad I put forth the effort, and end feeling accomplished, strong, healthy, and lighter than I began.
Finishing a goal is naturally rewarding, but I find it difficult to sit in the space of accomplishment. The simultaneously infuriating and inspiring truth about ambitious athletes and artists is that we are never finished. The flow we find in our craft is a raw experience that allows us to flirt with the divine. We are addicted to the layers of humility exposed by returning to our practice regularly. As Ta writes, we find “our place within a greater tapestry of existence” when we accept and participate in the chaos of the natural world. We are most aligned with the universe in a sacred space of creative flow.
So, while there is a moment to relish in the completion of an adventure, whether a post, a piece of a bigger project, or perhaps a full marathon, we actually want to return to the addictive high of flow.
And so begins our next endeavour…
~
This article is a guest post by Sarah Mason, a curious soul seeking a more balanced, wholehearted life through her writing.
Thank you, Sarah. Your article beautifully explores the importance of self-care and the courage to prioritise rest over constant productivity. Your ability to find a rhythm and flow in these pursuits is inspiring. Despite hesitations, you persist, recognising the power of the ongoing journey of self-care. I love how you celebrate the joy of growth and self-expression, reminding us to cherish the process and find happiness in every step.
All photos have been supplied by Sarah.
Do you have a creative and physical endeavour you see similarities in? Join us in the discussion by leaving a comment.
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'when we accept and participate in the chaos of the natural world. We are most aligned with the universe in a sacred space of creative flow.' Yes Sarah! thanks for your words.
Inspiring, this felt close to heart. I love writing obviously, but also running and nature, the images you chose really went well with it.