Today I dozed until 6:30 before deciding to run. I finally slipped off my bunk because I reminded myself I did not want to run later in the afternoon. This desire to "get it over with" has driven most of my actions lately, which is a terrible way to approach anything but in moments of necessity, works. I felt anxious and tired before I began and it was one of my hardest runs. I'm wondering if you can call week three of twenty of half-marathon training a slump? Or a hump? Something to that effect. My body knows the rhythm now, I'm not the flailing, awkward, short of breath jogger I was two weeks ago today, but I'm also tired, sore, and my knees hurt. I collapsed into this continuous thought, you don't have to push yourself today, just get it done. Four miles felt much longer than three. I finished out of breath, discouraged, and convinced with a dull resignation of my worst time, only to find I had ran my fastest four miles. I feel like that's what life looks like for me right now.
I have a habit of making general statements without alluding to any actuality behind them. A professor of mine (how wicked is it to realize I have professors and can refer to them as such? I feel like a typical college student slash blogger whom I surely admired at fourteen years old) critiqued an essay of mine and said, it's beautiful but murky. Write something concrete, that's the general consensus I receive from all my professors - whether the paper is good, bad, or somewhere in between, there's always a familiar thread of, what is it you're trying to get at? I circle around things. For whatever reason, I have trouble being specific. Specificity is dangerous because it seems like a nail in the coffin. I hate loose ends but cannot seem to tie up any of my own.
This manifests in a very particular way of responding to the world: I find myself regularly fully convinced of the worst, in all aspects of my life - be it friendships, relationships (the two are separate, though both are up in the air for me), school, work, making things, etc and onwards - only to be reminded, surprised, or rebuked* that what I thought was x was really only y. That is, things were not as bad as they seem. Yet, what if. Damn the what if's.
Part of the difficulty for me in assuming that the world is not ending (again, a colloquialism used only as a variable) is I am afraid to believe something good exists when there is an equal possibility that this friendship could be ending, my paper might be horrific, I could have disappointed my boss, I didn't run a fast mile. Another difficulty, and this may be more of a tangent than anything, is that I often cannot reconcile my need for affirmation (as a way to receive love) with a ravenous fear of being left, and therefore demanding confirmation of the opposite. Perhaps I'll go into that later.
I finished my run, sweaty and out of breath (both good feelings post run), and walked back under deep sunlight. Already it feels like summer here and I'm living into this familiar rhythm of longer days in an unfamiliar-but-growing-known place. One example: I'm writing a blog post instead of writing an essay on Dante that I've been procrastinating. I have twenty or so articles up currently I want to read, not to mention the three books I've ordered in the last two weeks (in this order: philosophy, poetry, theology - this is where my mind goes lately). I went to class, though I wanted to skip to write aforementioned essay (which I still need to complete). I debated back and forth whether or not to bus to Fremont before Logic to study, but was startled by something and couldn't stand to sit in my dorm, so packed my bag to get off campus. I didn't study or write my essay (a familiar pattern). Rather, I had ginger thai coleslaw, two cups of black coffee, and a coconut chocolate chip scone, not to mention two hours to myself. Flying Apron does gluten free and vegan so well I think of converting each time I visit, and then I remember I have Kerrygold cheese and Ezekial bread in my fridge. Also, burgers.
I'm doing better at being alone, and by that I mean I am not lonely. This is a stretch, I am often, mostly, and usually lonely, but I'm able to be alone without being overwhelmed. In fact, I think I feel the least lonely when I am alone, and that's a complete reversal of how I felt all last year. Part of it is only because I'm surrendering to finitude in most expressions, and thus reaping a growing sense of peace. Come what may, and also, Take off your shoes, this is holy ground. This is a constant decision, or perhaps practice is a better word. For looking at fluidity as natural occurrence, I only need see my reflection in the mirror: physically, mentally, emotionally, I am not the same Hannah I was a year ago, what an inane but absolutely truthful statement. How can I demand others remain the same? How can I demand today looks exactly as it did a year ago? (Thank God it doesn't)
Another tangent: I think part of loving people well is bound up in this action, that we love them as they grow and expand, and do not grieve when they move on or change or become a different expression or manifestation or revelation of themselves. Revelation, because we are privileged to know and stay and care in new ways. Privileged, because it requires intention, open palms, courage. I'm learning this with my family especially as I am apart from them, and in immediacy, with friends this last year, who have shuffled and shifted in and out of my life. I am just beginning to understand, and by understand I mean put a hand to the full texture, of how deeply all relationships are gifts, to cherish, steward, and care for well - not demand, not necessitate, not expect (as if expectation was always incorrect - how many layers to everything!)
Isn't it strange that after a year away from blogging (whatever that means), I'm still tempted to end with something wise? I'm convinced that trying to be wise or poetic or profound is one of the stupidest things I can do, trying to be an expression of something rather than being the thing itself. Here is a picture of a garden I did not plant. Let's speak simply and honestly and eschew "trying" in all forms. "Stay away from anything / that obscures the place it is in. / There are no unsacred places; / there are only sacred places / and desecrated places." I'm going to go write that essay now.
*I believe it's good to have friends who speak gentle truths to you harshly. Harshness is needed after twenty reminders or affirmations are demanded, which is something I am guilty of but trying to move away from.
