Tuesday, October 27, 2020

There's No Such Thing as Bad Weather . . .

 Only Bad Clothes.



Apparently this is a saying in many Scandinavian countries.

I love it.

I have long embraced the bundle. In the winter, I actually look forward to layering up to take my morning walks, no matter how cold and dark it may be. I really enjoy that I can continue this habit with just a little extra effort.

I like Winter. I like the nip of cold on my cheeks: it reminds me I'm alive! To breathe in deeply.

My snowpants are at the ready, waiting to be called into action for whatever which they may be needed. I have been brainstorming the various ways I could make them needed this Winter, in an effort to have ideas prepared when friends and family would like to spend Covid-safe time together. Some thoughts:

I'm honestly excited to keep spending lots of time outdoors this Winter! This is not new for me, and I welcome being joined by others who are ready to give it a try :)

Huzzah.

Tuesday, October 20, 2020

I Love A Walking Tempo

A walking bass-line?

A walking baseline?

A walking tempo. Also called a moderate tempo. I'm leaning into this word (in spite of its political connotations). Moderate. An adjective. Moderate. Also a verb. To moderate.



In moderation.

That has it's connotations too. "Everything in moderation." Helpful for some and not for others.

Back to that walking tempo. Moderate tempo. Walking baseline?

A moderate tempo is neither too fast nor too slow. A moderate tempo lets me sink into some moments and flurry through others. This juxtaposition of choices is delicious to me. I love having that moderate tempo to drive me forward in my groove while allowing for departure from it in either direction and on a large scale. 

A moderate tempo allows me the speed to sync with others and with the beat, making space to appreciate all the details in play.

A walking tempo tunes me into a sense of forward motion (well, it could be backwards, side to side, up and down . . . I certainly don't need to get righteous about always moving 'forward' here). A walking tempo connects me to a speed of groove that can comfortably be maintained in a way that also allows departure from it.

It feels like the speed of my heart, perhaps elevated ever so slightly as a reminder that I'm breathing in and out in this moment, surrounded by beings doing the same. A reminder that this should be cherished.

Quite a bas(e/s-)line.

Tuesday, October 13, 2020

Aimless Wander

Wander aimless?

Aim/less.

Aim less?


Wander aimlessly?

Aimlessly.

Wander.

Wonder?

I wonder what the true definition of wander is.

"To walk or move in a leisurely, casual, or aimless way." - Oxford English Dictionary.

Aimless.

"Without a purpose or direction." - Oxford English Dictionary.

When I think of 'aim,' I do immediately think 'direction.' Aiming in a particular direction. With both of these words/ ideas, I also think of the concept of 'goals.' Things that demarcate purpose. And 'purpose,' to me, is a very powerful concept.

So why does it feel so powerful to 'wander aimlessly'?

My daily morning walk is purposefully aimless. A chance in my day to let wander-wonder unfold and to head in whatever direction/s I seem pulled toward, curious about or feel right. That aimlessness is an aim unto itself.

I also tend to get thinking on my walks, no matter how purposefully I try to keep my head in the clouds and the moment. I suppose I mostly begin that way, and that sense of aloft carries me into the things I find myself wondering about. This morning, it was this idea of 'aimless.'

I've been feeling that way, in and out for the last I suppose 7 and a 1/2 months now. For quite awhile, I've been thinking '6,' but time as collected upon itself. Some days within this span, I've felt quite alive, purposeful, with aim, however different it might have been than I was imagining it would be, direction-wise, some 8 months ago. Other days (moments?), I feel stymied, irresolute, aimless. 

But should 'aimless' always be paired with such words? Is it really that pious to always be charging in a particular direction? Isn't an amount of 'head in the clouds, aimless wander' necessary to find your breath, feel the breeze, notice the unnoticed, connect with the moment?

What good is a direction if it doesn't also allow for the genuine feeling of it's movement along the way?

I once again come back to balance. Finding the grey-scale among the seemingly black and white, it not just to know it's there.

I'd like for finding that grey-scale to feel less messy sometimes, but (hold on, another mediocre metaphor coming) what would there be to organize if there were not some kind of 'messy' first? And boy, do I like to organize.

Aimless wander.