At one point, I couldn’t imagine wearing out two-plus pairs of shoes per year. Now each day begins with pavement pounding.
My junior high mile run time was slower than my current walking mile time. I loved school and books and writing, but hated PE. I snail-crawled my way through the mile “run,” followed by the humiliation of having to call out my time when the teacher took roll. Cue every teen movie scene of PE humiliation – like that, except worse, because it was me.
It occurs to me that no one ever attempted to help me find joy in movement. Maybe I wouldn’t have been receptive, but it’s so clear to me now that joy was the missing ingredient.
Raise your hand if you find humiliation motivating. Now raise your hand if joy motivates you. I’m sure I’m not alone in this.
Joy in movement now comes from fresh air and sunshine. Cleansing breaths and increased energy. Front yard flowers and waving neighbors. The company of my trotting dogs, tails wagging. Watching my miles stack up day by day, week by month, more miles so far this year than last year. I only compare to myself, the way it should be.
I’m still not sure I can run a mile. But I can run from this sidewalk crack to that silver Honda hatchback. I can run from St. Monica Church to the intersection of Canyon and Sanders. I can run many stretches of many miles, and all those steps – walking and running – add up.
Sure, some days exercise still feels like a chore. We all have to perform mundane tasks, like topping up the gas tank, picking up dog poop, washing dishes after a homemade lasagna, taxes. Still, those might be the pauses between the meaningful endeavors, and even there we can find ways to add joy.
Friends, if you find yourself slogging through an activity day after day, joyless, take it as a cue to evaluate what you’re doing and how you’re doing it. And if for whatever reason you believe that God has required something of you that you find joyless, then you have two options: either you haven’t yet found a joy-filled way of approaching that practice, or God hasn’t asked it of you.
Jesus came to bring joy, and anything worth doing is worth doing joyfully. I’m wishing you joy today in whatever you do.
Let’s share: how has adding joy changed your perspective on an everyday activity? Also, any tips on breaking in new shoes without turning my feet into raw meat will be most appreciated!
Last year I set a goal to drink more water. I wobbled for a while before the habit took hold. Initially, my skinny water bottle needed to be filled 4 times each day to meet my goal and I kept losing track – was I on bottle #3 or #4?
I drink one full bottle before lunch, and another 1-2 after lunch. While making dinner, I switch bottles and fill it with spa water – we keep a pitcher of water in the fridge in which we soak fresh sliced lemons and ginger – and I top it off with a generous splash of unfiltered apple cider vinegar. Apparently, this concoction has a name: Switchel. It’s shocking in a good way, tart and refreshing. It provides a jolt of energy for my evening, as does the happy music I dance to during dinner prep.
After dinner, I finish up whatever’s left in either bottle, and end the day with herbal tea. Add in my morning coffee and evening tea, I’m drinking a gallon+ of water each day. I used to not like the taste of water. I drank coffee or soda, or sparkling or flavored water, anything but clean, clear water. Now I think it tastes great.
What tips do you have for staying hydrated?
One by one, she gingerly removed all the tomatoes from her salad. My eyes must have asked the question my manners wouldn’t, so she explained: she loves fresh-off-the-vine summer tomatoes so much that she can’t stand bland winter hothouse tomatoes.
I didn’t get it then, but having grown my own juicy-explosive sun-ripened tomatoes over the last few summers, I understand now. I no longer add tomatoes to my winter salads.
Seasonal produce = delicious!
Right now I can’t get enough of Cara Cara oranges. I eat them as snacks. Some nights instead of a salad alongside dinner, I slice up several and our family chows down. I put them in smoothies (pictured: golden wellness smoothie). I add them to salad (pictured: spinach and arugula with oranges, tangerines, chopped nuts, pomegranate seeds; before eating I dressed it with peanut sauce).
You can find lists of in-season produce here. What in-season fruits and veggies have you been enjoying? Any favorite recipes?
When I created a habit tracker for 2021, I decided to add or emphasize positive things in my life. I also recognized that I’d be more inclined to stick to the habit tracker itself if, in addition to new habits, I included habits I already had underway (i.e., hydration) and activities that add joy to my life. Writing and reading daily add joy to my life.
My best days almost always include both, lots of both, with variety. I write to understand how I think/feel. To hone my craft. To connect. For work. And I add joy to my writing by stretching myself in new ways, trying new prompts or styles.
I take a similar approach to reading. I read to nurture my soul. To educate myself. To travel the world and throughout history. To live vicariously through others’ stories. To develop empathy. I read for pleasure.
I have to shake things up. Of course there are times when I’m engrossed in a book I can’t put down. Or I get involved in a writing project that demands my focus. Still, my life flows better when I engage with an array of words; my writing flows better as a reflection.
As a child infinitely content to snuggle up with my nose in a book, I required endless encouragement to get outside. When my grandma asked for help trimming green beans, she sent me outdoors. I thought she didn’t want cut bean-ends flying about the kitchen. Not so, my mother explained. Norwegians believe we should be outdoors all the time, all year round. It’s a philosophy known as friluftsliv (free-lufts-liv).
I experienced it for myself when I visited family in Norway. We hiked and swam in rivers. We heard stories of children snowshoeing or cross-country skiing to school. When it rained, we bundled up and went outside anyway.
So I had to laugh when I woke up to pouring rain on the day I’d planned to post “Get Outside.” I also suspected that I could wait a little while. Even on the rainiest NorCal days, we generally get breaks between downpours. And we did.
Getting outside stimulates the senses. The crisp air felt invigorating, as did moving our bodies quickly to keep warm. The world smelled fresh-washed, like wearing clean pj’s in front of the lit fireplace. We heard flitting birds in the bushes and saw raindrops glistening on winter flowers. I didn’t open my mouth to taste the light raindrops that fell before we returned home, but I did anticipate pouring myself a warm drink.
Which leads me to another Norwegian word: once you’ve partaken in friluftsliv, you come home to koselig, the Norwegian version of the Danish hygge, or getting cozy-comfortable.
What’s your favorite way to spend time outdoors?
Gratitude is one of my favorite habits. I’ve kept a dedicated gratitude journal since January 2017. Most mornings I write at least three things from the previous day for which I can be grateful. I could do this in the evening before bed, but mornings work better for me.
To make this habit stick, I put my gratitude journal and planner next to the chair where I sit to sip my morning coffee. The convenience factor makes it more likely that I will pick up my journal. The reason I keep this habit on my habit tracker is to work on consistency, to record gratitude not just regularly but daily.
It’s such a simple thing to write three points of gratitude for each day. I try to make them unique, for example, not just another walk but the uniqueness of that walk, like the neighbors we greeted along the way. I’m often grateful for beauty that bursts through the days’ sameness, like the now-blooming tulips from the bulbs my husband purchased.
My next step: not checking my phone until I’ve written down my gratitude. Since gratitude is well on its way to being a daily habit, I bet I can piggyback phone-resistance to it and increase the likelihood of both.
What are you grateful for today? Or how could you increase the convenience factor to make a desired habit stick?
Grief seems to be at every corner this year. Many of us have shared occasions for grief, such as illness and death, the loss of normalcy, shuttered shops and closed schools, dwindling dollars in our bank accounts, isolation and loneliness. Most of us also have personal reasons for grief. For two weeks I haven’t left my phone out of sight as I wait for the call that my mom has gone to glory.
So when I saw an article titled, “How to deal with grief,” of course I clicked. While grief has taught me lived-and-learned lessons, I’m still up for additional advice within easy reach. For the same reason, I am a sucker for happiness research. Recently I clicked on an article with a title along the lines of, “This one trick will make you as happy as eating 20 chocolate bars.” Twenty chocolate bars would make me sick, not happy, but I appreciate the effort. The answer was: Smile. Smile more, even when you don’t feel it, and you’ll be happier. Apparently, people rate their smiling-more happiness as high as having received a gift of $25,000. Now I simply must disagree: a no-obligation gift of $25,000 would definitely make me happier than insincere smiling. Also, I’d be happy to have you try to prove me wrong.
I clicked on the grief article and found an interview with poet Maggie Smith. Smith published a volume of poetry in 2016 (Keep Moving) which included a poem called “Good Bones” that seems to go viral when the world teeters dangerously on the edge of a deep well – for example, immediately after the 2016 election. Also, 2020. Smith calls “Good Bones” a disaster barometer.
Smith offered two pieces of advice that have affected how I’m moving through these hard days. The first is to find “snow globe moments,” something you do every day that stills the world and allows you to feel like your genuine self. For her, that’s writing. I share writing as a core activity and I’ll add walking our dogs, preferably with my husband so we can spend that time connecting. He’s my best sounding board and also an encourager who gets me out of my own head. I believe author Cheryl Strayed referred to her Wild adventure as “walking back to her best self” which makes sense to me. Writing and walking have been life-giving and sanity saving this year.
Smith also discussed “beauty emergencies.” We tend to think of the word “emergency” negatively, as a problem, but it comes from the root “emergent” which means “happening now.” So a beauty emergency occurs when you pay attention and notice that something beautiful is happening this instant and you’ll miss it if you don’t drop everything and watch. Like a hummingbird flitting at the feeder or a sunset that shifts colors every second and will be over within minutes.
Poets necessarily cultivate the ability to witness to the present. To focus their micro-lens on this moment. I am not a poet, and my monkey brain leaps from past to future, future to past, bounding over this uncomfortable time. One more reason I am going to add books of poetry to my reading queue in this upcoming year, because I need the benefit of their wise and often witty reflections.
Meanwhile, I mentioned beauty emergencies to my sixteen-year-old son and, though I didn’t know it as the words spilled from my mouth, that may have been one of the best things I’ve said to him this whole year. Several times over the last two weeks, as my attention has been absorbed in writing or reading, he has yanked me outside to witness a sunset. I have done the same for him, pulling him from his bedroom desk where he counter-attacks against the never-ending onslaught of distance learning assignments.
We both carry our own foggy griefs which we have soothed side-by-side with regular applications of beauty, watching as the sky indiscernibly shifts from orangey-yellows to red-purples to dusky twilight. We’ve both tried – unsuccessfully – to capture the splendor in photos. And that, it seems, is also poetic: the call is to witness, not capture, rather to be captivated ourselves. To stay present and open to this stunning moment before our eyes. To become newly aware of life’s magnificence and brevity.
Life is short, though I keep this from my children. Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways, a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative estimate, though I keep this from my children. For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird. For every loved child, a child broken, bagged, sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world is at least half terrible, and for every kind stranger, there is one who would break you, though I keep this from my children. I am trying to sell them the world. Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful.
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For most of the last eighteen years, our family has spent one week each summer vacationing in Pacific Grove, California, a NorCal coastal town nestled between Monterey and Carmel. Many years before our annual vacations began, while we were dating and newly married, Guy and I would drive from his childhood home in Santa Cruz to walk along the rocky coast, to picnic, to visit the Monterey Bay Aquarium. For almost 30 years this place has inspired me with its beauty.
When our boys were little, we had to get up early to exercise them. As they got older and required more sleep, I began to get up early to exercise me. All year long I anticipate with physical longing my morning walk/jogs along the trail paralleling Ocean View Boulevard.
I am not a morning person, so it’s truly something when I can yank myself out of bed, start the coffee while I get dressed, swallow a half cup and be out the door before anyone else stirs. I’m at the beach, I reminded myself. I’m only here for a few days.
Every morning without fail I hit the trail, either walk/jogging toward Monterey or walking the longer, less even trail toward Asilomar. My body felt tired but healthy. Stronger. And my will felt stronger, too, more determined.
I told myself it was the view that pulled me outside. It was, but I wondered: if I lived here, would it motivate me 365 days a year? Would it ever grow old?
I live in a beautiful, walkable neighborhood. I love walking my dogs, walking with Guy or friends, walk/jogging myself around our neighborhood. I can take a slightly different route every day of the week, though by now they are all familiar.
But I live here, so it’s easy to say I’ll get outside later, or tomorrow. That we can take the dogs to the park, or I can go to the gym.
I came home from vacation with a new resolve to stop making excuses and get outside to appreciate the gift of living in this particular neck of the NorCal woods. And so I have put on my shoes, leashed the dogs, and gone outside each day since.
I live here, and I am going to soak it in with gratitude.
Born and raised in SoCal, most of my life has been lived within 20 minutes of the coast.
Until now, when the coast is at best 30 minutes away and at worst, an hour+.
I have noticed lately an intense craving to be near the water. The local reservoirs, and the two or three hikes within sight of them, come close but not quite. I need to see, hear, smell salt water lapping shore, sea gulls squawking overhead, and feel sand between my toes.
Yes, oh yes, but it’s not the ocean
Happy beach dogs
The beach invites me into solitude, a reminder of God’s Great-Big-ness and my comparable insignificance. And yet, I am loved and held and cared for by the God who created such overwhelming beauty.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).
Beach sound quiets my soul. Meanwhile, I strain to hear beach sound while the noise of life grows clamorous. I crave solitude.
My personality inclines itself to solitude but it doesn’t always come easy. When Teen was a toddler I read that those with my personality type need an hour or more of solitude each day to maintain emotional health – I squawked in laughter like my sea gull friends! How does a mom of littles get even a few minutes of solitude? Gracious me, I was lucky if I could shut the bathroom door without a child in there with me!
As the kids get older you do get some of your own life back (hope for my mom-of-littles friends!), and solitude becomes a more achievable goal. Gym time, walking the dog, silence rather than radio in the car (often on the way to pick up a kid or a carpool – silence until the kids get in the car, and then they’re so noisy they often don’t notice the music isn’t on, and I get to eavesdrop on their chatter), and a big YAY for uninterrupted writing time.
“I try to run into God’s arms and give myself to his embrace, but I am holding lots of stuff, and it gets in the way. The baggage I am carrying makes me clumsy and hard to hug” (p45).
Clumsy and hard to hug – I don’t know how to hug myself, let alone anyone else, until I have sorted through my soul’s detritus with Jesus.
So here’s to finding small and big ways to include time for solitude in the schedule!
Where do you go to be alone, and why?
Study Read aloud Mark 6:31-34, 45-57.
Describe the situation in which Jesus invites His disciples to come away. What did He intend for them (vv. 31-32)?
Jesus’ plans for solitude were interrupted by the crowd. How did He handle it (vv. 33-34)?What did Jesus do when He finally got away (v. 46)?
Does the idea of solitude thrill or threaten you? Explain.
How is the spiritual practice of solitude like/unlike simply being alone?
What ‘noise’ keeps you from quieting your soul, and what can you do to turn down the volume?
When have you experienced a “crowd” in your solitary place? How did you handle it?
How could solitude focus your prayers and help you seek God?
Which Faith Training Exercises have you tried recently? Share joys and struggles. Which exercises might God call you to this week, and why?
What is Jesus saying to you through this passage and how will you respond?
Pray that God will use your spiritual training to make you fit in new ways for Christ.
“Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth” (Psalm 46:10).