We are all different. I get that. I love running. Most people don't. It is a game of endurance. A person needs to be fairly fit to even attempt it, for starters. The feet, back, knees, hips, muscles, and heart need to be working at least decently to run. This is not the case for everyone. I get it.
But I love running.
I love the feeling of self satisfaction and respect I feel about myself when I get out of bed when I didn't want to.
I love the way my heart is still pumping hard for an hour or so after I've showered and started my day.
I love having an hour or half hour to just talk with someone while doing something so good and constructive for our bodies.
I have loved, loved, loved the friends I've made along the way; probably way more than they loved me.
I love supporting other people in their health and goals and seeing them fit, trim and happy.
I love knowing that I am doing something that is preventing many, many health problems that I am not even aware of.
I love both the direct and indirect impact this has for my well being and the well being of those around me.
But I have hardly been running at all in two years and I have missed it. I miss the company. I miss the feeling of health, I've missed the possitive impact it has on my life.
Today I got to go running, four miles. Good company. Fun run. Feel great. And I definitely appreciate it.
As I've been getting other things done today, the phrase "and they taste the bitter that they may know to prize the good" has come to mind. Sometimes, those times without the things we love are invaluable in teaching us not just to appreciate, but to prize the good.
So I've been busy prizing, and I love it.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Faith
When I lived in in Paris, I went to history museum containing relics of past civilizations. I remember walking by a completely ordinary object, I think it was a comb. In that moment, it dawned on me of just how many billions and billions of people have lived on this earth, and how tiny I am in comparison. The breadth-of-humanity-and-smallness-of-you epiphany is an important one to have, I think.
For some reason, in the past two weeks I've been thinking about this epiphany a lot. Mostly because every time I do, it also reminds me of the power I do have. To quote my journal from Paris, "I cannot correct all the wrongs of the world but I do control one small part of part of life, and that is me." So if this, my body, my life experience is all I really can, and ever will control of humanity, then I feel as if I need to make every moment count. I mean, this is MY life. MY only control. What will I (capital I) do with MY existence?
During this ongoing string of thoughts over the last few weeks, the scriptures about how he who loses his life will gain it kept creeping its way into my thoughts about MY life. The idea that if I take this one part of humanity, the only part of humanity for which I have any say at all, and give it away, that this is truly the only way to gain it. Yet another paradox of religion. Something I needed to wrap my head around.
I also tend to think a lot about the divinity of Christ and the prophets. Mostly because I have a very strong testimony of it, and largely because this belief is constantly challenged by my aethiest friends who believe that Christ has no more value than being a 'good person'.
In Sunday School yesterday we discussed Christ and how he grew from grace to grace. Tha the did not start off with the fullness. He walked by faith. We talked about his baptism, though seemingly not logically needed, how he did it. In my mind, because of faith in his Father.
This person, Christ, who we so persistently study and try to emmulate. He lived on the earth for 33 years. Many have looked to him because he taught good principals. Love one another. Serve those lesser than you. Sacrifice.
But really, it is about his divinity. To ignore this is to ignore the most crucial point. His example is deeper than just kindness. His example is of faith. He was baptized because his father asked him to. He served because the Father asked him to. He drank of the bitter cup because the father asked him to, saying something to the effect of - Father not MY will but THY will be done. He did not want to do it.
So as I reflect back from his life to MY life and MY one and only little chance at the vast, vast pool of humanity what do I want with MY life. My conclusion after two weeks of pondering the topic is that I do want to give. Give everything. But the undergirding of the whole thing is faith. Other people may chose to live differently, but this is, after all MY life. And I am choosing to give it away.
For some reason, in the past two weeks I've been thinking about this epiphany a lot. Mostly because every time I do, it also reminds me of the power I do have. To quote my journal from Paris, "I cannot correct all the wrongs of the world but I do control one small part of part of life, and that is me." So if this, my body, my life experience is all I really can, and ever will control of humanity, then I feel as if I need to make every moment count. I mean, this is MY life. MY only control. What will I (capital I) do with MY existence?
During this ongoing string of thoughts over the last few weeks, the scriptures about how he who loses his life will gain it kept creeping its way into my thoughts about MY life. The idea that if I take this one part of humanity, the only part of humanity for which I have any say at all, and give it away, that this is truly the only way to gain it. Yet another paradox of religion. Something I needed to wrap my head around.
I also tend to think a lot about the divinity of Christ and the prophets. Mostly because I have a very strong testimony of it, and largely because this belief is constantly challenged by my aethiest friends who believe that Christ has no more value than being a 'good person'.
In Sunday School yesterday we discussed Christ and how he grew from grace to grace. Tha the did not start off with the fullness. He walked by faith. We talked about his baptism, though seemingly not logically needed, how he did it. In my mind, because of faith in his Father.
This person, Christ, who we so persistently study and try to emmulate. He lived on the earth for 33 years. Many have looked to him because he taught good principals. Love one another. Serve those lesser than you. Sacrifice.
But really, it is about his divinity. To ignore this is to ignore the most crucial point. His example is deeper than just kindness. His example is of faith. He was baptized because his father asked him to. He served because the Father asked him to. He drank of the bitter cup because the father asked him to, saying something to the effect of - Father not MY will but THY will be done. He did not want to do it.
So as I reflect back from his life to MY life and MY one and only little chance at the vast, vast pool of humanity what do I want with MY life. My conclusion after two weeks of pondering the topic is that I do want to give. Give everything. But the undergirding of the whole thing is faith. Other people may chose to live differently, but this is, after all MY life. And I am choosing to give it away.
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