The Now of Every Beat and Breath

“Winding like an ancient river,

The time is now again.

Hope is like an ancient river;

The time is now again.”

—Rush, Ceiling Unlimited

There were 42 episodes last year. Not the 52 I had originally planned -- one per week -- but that's because of other priorities that took precedent. Like work travel. And vacations. And family time.

There was no other cast except me. No production team except me. Only one camera to capture one single image per show. On location at Natural Bridges State Beach. One mile walked up to Natural Bridges, two miles running on the beach, one mile walk/run back home.

The show's premise was (and still is) to complete an empowering weekly anchor workout, one that still presents me with the challenge of running (at least on the beach) since my knee surgery in 2014, while listening to my music of choice and let my mind do what it will. Mindfulness. Hopeful daydreaming. Problem solving. Introspection. Forward thinking. Reminiscing. The simple bliss of enjoying every beat and breath.

One little victory at a time. Linked and looped together into perpetual resolutions of what I want to be. Of what I can be. Of what I can actually control and of what is beyond me. 

The silly part of this idea was to imagine that my weekly beach runs are a show of sorts. A social media show of my anchor moments shared on Instagram and other channels like this one from the New Year:

This week on #HappyNewYear Beach Run. #BigDaddyPower

But always with the same all temporal yet transitory anchors in the background: the sky, the sea, the natural rock bridge (the only one left at Natural Bridges State Beach), and the beach itself. And sometimes me (because we are also transitory). Really more to remind me of that particular moment of being and doing and taking care of me so I can be there and take care of my family. 

In between the beach run is a whole lot of messy life, only some of which I can personally impact. So I tend well to myself, and then to my family, and then to others, because most of the messy will always be beyond my control (some of which I'll never want to touch anyway). I've been praying/meditating for three minutes a day now for over a week, blotting out everything except me, my breath and the greater I. While not wholly transformative, at least not yet, the incremental resetting is emotionally refreshing and is giving me new focus. Amen.

The rest of living well was summed up nicely for me in this short NPR article: The prescription is simple: Get enough sleep. Move around. Eat well. Interact with others.

The time is always now again -- the now of every beat and breath and being completely well in. It ain't easy, but it's certainly worth my family's while.

Happy New Year, Kids.

We pray for healing anyway, because that could happen to any of us

You think, never my child.

That could never happen to us.

But it happened to our friends, to people we don't even know.

First there's Julia. The sweetest little girl we have yet to meet whose mother I used to work with. She has Down syndrome and had heart surgery just this week. She was born with atrioventricular septal defect (AVSD), a congenital heart defect common with Down babies.

Then there's the sudden death of a dear friend's unborn child recently. Only 20 weeks in the womb before complications arose.

Then there's a talented musician cousin who's battle with brain tumors have taken quite a toll on everyday life since childhood.

And then there are the children I watch as a child advocate at a local women's shelter. Physically healthy children from varied backgrounds and socioeconomic strata who live with domestic violence and the emotional and psychological toll it takes.

That could never happen to us.

On the other side of the sandwich you think, never my parents.

There is mine whose health has been compromised for decades, both mom and dad, and now while my mother still heals from back surgery last Thanksgiving, my father has to have heart surgery for a second time this decade, hundreds of miles away...

Mama and I love our friends and family. We pray for God's healing although we don't usually pray, or have faith that prayer or God's healing is real or viable.

We pray for healing anyway, because that could happen to any of us.

It puts many other worries into perspective, and one place to start the healing is to love each other and love your children.

Amen.