Thoughtful Practice
Years ago I read Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. I love that book and have gone back to it again and again. Now, I'm reading her book The True Secret of Writing. It is quickly becoming that book. You know the one -- rereading paragraphs and sentences, dog-earing pages to be able to return to an idea that for whatever reason keeps whispering at you. A book that asks you to not hurry. Slow down. Enjoy.
Late last evening, as I readied to call it a day, I thought I'm going to take Nat's advice. I'm going to put serious thought into a couple of areas of my life, areas that I refer to as practice. My writing practice. My yoga practice. My meditation practice. My be nice to myself practice (which really needs attention -- but that's for another blog post another time, like maybe in a year's time). I so appreciate how Goldberg suggests practice isn't about advancing a goal. It's not determining an end point, an achievement.
Practice is simply doing. As Goldberg puts it, "You do it because you do it."
Writing. Yoga. Meditation. Self-compassion. These are what I am choosing to do. To practice.
I eased back into meditation practice a week ago. Twenty minutes each evening. Maybe it's a coincidence, but since sitting for meditation each evening before bed, I've slept much more soundly.
I eased back into writing practice last evening and then this morning when I had some extra minutes before having to leave for work. A few lines somehow found their way into a piece I've been struggling with.
I am easing myself into changing the language I use towards myself. Mistakes were made. Time to offer a nod of recognition to those mistakes and send them on their way.
Yoga practice has been light, more stretching than actual asanas. My back and hips have been thankful for the stretching.
I am choosing to practice each of these because it seems like each of these has chosen me. They feel like old friends, the kind I might not see for some time but can pick up right where things were left the last time we met.
Late last evening, as I readied to call it a day, I thought I'm going to take Nat's advice. I'm going to put serious thought into a couple of areas of my life, areas that I refer to as practice. My writing practice. My yoga practice. My meditation practice. My be nice to myself practice (which really needs attention -- but that's for another blog post another time, like maybe in a year's time). I so appreciate how Goldberg suggests practice isn't about advancing a goal. It's not determining an end point, an achievement.
Practice is simply doing. As Goldberg puts it, "You do it because you do it."
Writing. Yoga. Meditation. Self-compassion. These are what I am choosing to do. To practice.
I eased back into meditation practice a week ago. Twenty minutes each evening. Maybe it's a coincidence, but since sitting for meditation each evening before bed, I've slept much more soundly.
I eased back into writing practice last evening and then this morning when I had some extra minutes before having to leave for work. A few lines somehow found their way into a piece I've been struggling with.
I am easing myself into changing the language I use towards myself. Mistakes were made. Time to offer a nod of recognition to those mistakes and send them on their way.
Yoga practice has been light, more stretching than actual asanas. My back and hips have been thankful for the stretching.
I am choosing to practice each of these because it seems like each of these has chosen me. They feel like old friends, the kind I might not see for some time but can pick up right where things were left the last time we met.
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| I know I've shared this photo before, but I've been thinking a lot lately about the Northern Tier ride, and this is one of my favorite images from then. I miss the anticipation of what is to come each day when riding long distance. I thought I might be done with my cross country tours, but the pull to go again has been tugging at me. If I can figure out a way to take Ado with me, I just might set off on another cycling adventure. Me and Ado on the open road. What's not to like? |
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