God Says Yes to Me

[Following poem-form of same name by Kaylin Haught]

I asked God if it was okay to refer to him as Her

And she said yes

I asked if it was okay to cry when I didn’t know why

or how to make things different

And she said it sure is, I do that all the time

I asked her if I could love more than one person at a time

And she said honey (she calls me that sometimes)

I want you to love every person you meet like that

And is it even okay if I don’t sit with church people

Looking for you in life outside their words instead

Sweetcakes, God said

Who knows where she picked that up

What I’m telling you is

Yes Yes Yes

Done...and More to Come

The goal was one pull-up. Sensate awareness of my sixth-grade self in P.E., Ms. Hill by the bar, a sense of forboding and shame about the same time every year. One pull-up would offer me a path to alter history, at least where it counts, inside my felt sense of myself. One pull-up would demonstrate to myself that wisdom may take a while, but it’s worth the work and the wait. One pull-up would give me something to focus on amidst a demanding season of manuscript writing and online teaching. So how goes it? a friend asked today. And of course, the answer is…? I have to decide!

Last week, I surprised myself by pulling myself above the bar, contracting core, arm and back muscles. It was fantastic. I was aiming to jump up above the bar, to catch myself in a static hold, strengthen the abs and all that. Before I jumped, I remember thinking, “Be sure to jump high enough so you can catch in the static hold.” A previous day had taught me I’ve simply not been getting enough height to activate all the right muscles for a static hold. Get enough height, I can hold myself just fine.

Well, I didn’t get enough height:  I pulled myself up to the right height and held me there for a while.

I pulled myself up and held me there!!!

It was such a marvelous feeling—to pull myself up above the bar. I couldn’t get the smile off my face. I released, then repeated it three more times. Then I was done. Since then, I’ve been laying my hands on the bar, chin-up style, and tip-toeing upward to pull-up over the bar. I love it. I printed out the Physical Fitness Award paperwork from some elementary school in Nebraska and saw the challenge of my sixth-grade self to hang for 7 seconds. Easy as cake now. Got that.  My body says I’ve done what I set out to do.

But my mind is telling me all the ways I’ve not done what I set out to do, because now I know so much more than I knew when I started! Folks well attuned to the body-world know that a pull-up is one thing, a chin-up is another. Pull-up means hands facing away from the body, requiring a different combination of musculature to accomplish the body-lift. A chin-up has your hands facing inward, allowing greater access to the core and bicep muscles in much more direct contraction as you do the body-lift. Of course, I did not know they were different. As with most things in my life, the mental image of it speaks a reality unto itself for me. If it’s in my mental image, it’s real; if it’s not, it’s not. Chin-ups and pull-ups are the same thing in my world. It’s not my body’s fault they’re different ‘out there.’

And now I’ve pushed into the world of physical strength training, vistas I’d never imagined have appeared on the horizon. I’m considering exploring Olympic lifting, O-lifting it’s called. Apparently, my body is perfectly set for such things. It only took me 44 years to learn the kind of strengths my body has, and so to explore those. I even feel different in my skin, my weight, my bones. I had to give up my gym t-shirts to GoodWill because they were too tight in the shoulders and upper back. How cool is that?

But does it 'count', my mind whines? Does vindication of my sixth-grade self count? Yes, I'm deciding today. Whether ordained or not, I’m calling the week’s efforts a fait accompli. For my purposes, I pulled myself above the bar and yes I have vindicated my sixth-grade self. In the greater senses, the goal was a straw-person anyway--I want to learn to find my strengths and develop those, focus on those, offer those. Achieving this milestone doesn't close off my sights to a kip-pull-up. I am smiling though. When one moves deeply into anything—apparently anything—the lesson appears to be learning just how deep and mysterious ‘the other side’ can be. 

So let's move to the kip-pull-up, to increasing my ability to hold my weight in the world by playing with it on the bar. No deadline, no guessing, just playing. It’s what the doctor orders. That’s me.

Surprise Progress

I love making surprise progress. 

I enjoyed a long, slow run yesterday, keeping my intention to listen to my body, go at its pace, not that of my mind or goal-oriented will. It was a warm afternoon around the track, the sun streaming in through the windows, warming the air upstairs, away from the outside doors. I put my hoodie into one of the cubicles, placing the water bottle with hanging keys toward the back, away from outsider temptation. I selected the Kirtan Rabbi music that had instigated some energy for a run, and began the walkabout for listening’s sake. Slowly, a lap of walking turned to a slow jog, became a walk again, then a jog again. It felt good to loosen my back and leg muscles from their stationery captivity while I had done my writing that morning. Before I knew it, I was enjoying a loping run for multiple laps, smiling at the return of energy and feeling of anticipation. A twinge I had felt in my hip from three days before was long gone, and it was just the sound of the Shema, a Hindu drum, and the pad-pad-pad of my steps in good form.

About midway through, I thought I would change things up a little, play a little bit on the adult-jungle-gym downstairs—bars, bands hanging with handles for multiple-angle resistance training, etc. Approaching the bar, I wondered what it might feel like, this return to the bar after three days away. I had learned to relax my joints the previous workout, trust that my muscles would all hold me together. It had felt so strange, and strangely wonderful, to ease into my skin like that. I’ve been working too hard, trying to use my mind and sense of “must-be” in pursuing the form of a pull-up. My trainer is intent on getting me into my body in safe form, then letting my body tell me what it’s going to do. She apparently doesn’t know how the majority of folks in my family DO body things. We don't have much practice in doing what she is suggesting.

It was good to jump up, feel the strain on my hands and trust the callouses that would come. I relaxed my joints, allowed my muscles to hold me together. I hung there, surely with a big dopey smile on my face. It was good to practice, to support what I’ve been learning. I released my grip then re-chalked, walked to the lower bar so I could try a different form—a chin-up, which to everyone who knows about these things, is different than a pull-up. Who knew? To me, same ol’ same old. But no, a chin up has a different hand grip, allows you to use your biceps more fully. Anyway, I aimed to jump up above the bar, catching myself in a static hold, strengthen the abs and all that.

Before I jumped, I remember thinking, “Be sure to jump high enough so you can catch in the static hold.” A previous day had taught me I’ve simply not been getting enough height to activate all the right muscles for a static hold. Get enough height, I can hold myself just fine.

Well, I didn’t get enough height, I realized, but it didn’t matter! I pulled myself up to the right height and held me there for a while. I pulled myself up and held me there!!! It was such a marvelous feeling—to pull myself up above the bar!! I couldn’t get the smile off my face. I released, then repeated it three more times. And then I was done.

But a jump into chin-up is something I can do now. Get myself started, then finish with my arm and upper body strength.

It’s coming. And it was a surprise progress kind of day. I didn’t know I could do that yet.

Then the day finished with a marvelous remainder of miles, some cool-down stretches and mobility attention, and a good long afternoon of writing and listening. Good stuff, all around.

A New Frontier and Continnum (a?)

A new frontier of ‘mobility’ has appeared on my horizon this week, among other topics or awarenesses. It’s been a good week, with a sense of measured or paced progress.

Thing one: I’m well into a new continuum for even thinking about this pull-up thing. No longer is this a “Can Do/Can’t Do” thing. One side of my brain still doubts, but more of more of my awareness grows out of the continuum “Haven’t Done Yet/Will Do Sometime.” What’s the magic or the difference?

I’m realizing that every action on the bar is a combination of psychological, physical, and probably even spiritual actions. My window for learning a new aspect may be small, but there’s always a window within which to begin to learn proper form, good-protective technique. For instance, I used to think—in the impossibility category—that I couldn’t even hang on the bar with any control, or I couldn’t hold myself up above the bar at all. I’ve done that, for longer and longer moments on my own jump-hold reps, or for much longer duration with strength band-support. I cannot do either for very long, at this point, but I am getting accustomed to the view up there, for longer and longer moments. My body is learning the proper forms, and the proper protections, for playing with my full body weight at the bar in small actions toward a larger one.

Today, after a nice long run/walk, I jumped up to the bar to remember what I just barely felt yesterday, which was hanging from the bar, keeping my arms completely stationery, and swinging my hips in a controlled pre-kip kind of movement. I did that several times, noting the developing calluses on my hands with a sense of pain but satisfaction. I can sense the difference, too, between approaching the bar with a fresh energy and highest ability, and spent energy and lower ability, with a sensation of weary shoulder/arm/core muscles, which have been used to do a small part of this workout toward my goal. The window of opportunity to deepen the learnings is smaller than I’d like—meaning I get weary fairly quickly, at this stage—but it’s a window that is lengthening. It’s a window through which “I’m doing this, bit by bit.” So “Haven’t Done Yet, Will Do Sometime,” because little parts of this path I’m already feeling in my body. I’m already doing little actions of the larger action to come.

A whole different horizon opened up this week, too: mobility ‘wods.’ “Wods” simply mean “workout of the day,” a term from the Crossfit community, if I remember correctly. But there are ways to ‘work out’ that are not strength-training, per se, nor involve expanding one’s cardio-capability. These work-outs focus on stretching and muscle-release toward greater and greater mobility. Movement of the muscles. Freedom of the muscles to fire as they do naturally, without fighting the tension inside while they do the movement-work on the ‘outside.’ Those who do a lot of yoga increase their mobility, not to mention flexibility and more. This has a feel of that. But the simple stretches I learned—thinking “My body does not move like that!”—opened up space within my own musculature that I could feel in its presence or springiness or freedom, somehow. Again, my body is learning to do that/this. Will Do, not Cannot Do. Not only do I have a new frontier to explore—carefully, without overdoing it (she says to herself, with a stern glare)—but I have simple stretches and movements to integrate into my days of computer-bound work. I can bring my mind into my body without having to get myself to the gym, or take a shower afterwards. Deepening awareness, again and again, seems to be the body-tutorial going on in my personal-training.

And I took a formal, informal ‘plunge’ today, biting at the ‘half-off’ cost of the idea. I signed up for a beginner’s level e-training for a half-marathon. Now, I know this seems like a bit of overkill, but hear me out. Perhaps my weight is more than it needs to be, even as I develop muscles. What harm can come from beginning an intentional-community process where I get encouragement to deepen awareness of chi-living in all things—core awareness, proper form for running, greater flexibility and spiritual maturity in listening to the body? If I lose weight, then there’s less to pull-up over the bar, right? I don’t have a strong commitment to the ultimate goal of the distance, but I DO know that I am happiest when I am most active. I like the idea of having an e-training while I’m at the computer anyway doing my online-teaching work (that I dislike so much). Why not do something for my active life while I have to be there for my work-life anyway? While I’m engaging the pull-up fears, it can’t hurt to do something that is familiar, which is a re-distancing goal of walking/running. If my body discourages me with pain or immobility, then I simply lessen the engagement wherever I need to.  Besides, I’m so excited about it! How can that be any harm?

I wonder if I can get my husband to sign up for the e-training for a 5K?! Poor man. Will he know what hurricane is about to envelop him? :)

Shoulder Calculus

I have a new shoulder calculus, I think, and it’s telling me to lengthen the duration of my quest.

The basic algebra is this:

the longer I engage this particular adventure, the more fun it gets;

the more fun it gets, the more time I spend at it;

the more time I spend at it, the wearier my upper body muscles get;

the wearier my upper body muscles get, the less precise my form and technique;

the less precise my form and technique, the greater the chance of injury.

Evidence?  My left upper shoulder rotator cuff is beginning to feel a twinge every now and then.

So...a new shoulder calculus: all factors involved suggest I need to either have less fun or slow down. Slow down it is. This is way too much fun.

I’ve also learned about a new muscle group called the latissimus dorsi, which you can see below (thanks to the author of the blog--One Healthy Munchkin):

 As I’ve explored the various muscle groups involved in a momentum-pull-up, this is one I knew very little about. It’s directly behind you, so why would you notice it? Many shoulder issues stem from locked or frozen latissimus dorsi, I learn, particularly if one sits in a stationary position most of the day and rarely moves it. Like online teaching, for instance, or entire days spent at a computer screen. I’ve begun the painful--and I mean painful--rolling process of waking this muscle group up, both in use and in some simple bodyweight-roller massage movement.

I wonder if I learn to love and care for my latissimus dorsi--lats, for short, which one should use for an 'intimate' in one's life, I suppose!--I wonder whether my shoulder will let me do more of the jumps and pull-up practices I want to do?

I also wonder if I’m catching that body lifters’ disease of more, better, best. Or perhaps I’m finally just enjoying my body for who and what it’s always been. There for me, with its own limits and quirks that it’s my job to learn to love, but it's there for me, strong, built (even), and beautifully mine.

I'm learning how to isolate exercises for muscle groups too. I played with a wide bar, weights' use of the lats today at the gym. It felt good to use the upper back muscles and protect my shoulder.

Facing One's Weight in the World

Returning to the body requires facing your own weight in the world.

Think of all the associations you have with ‘weight.’ Because I sit with the Quakers sometimes, I hear a positive connotation in their phrase, ‘weighty elders.’ They use that phrase to describe those with sufficient gravitas and levity, presence and practice to have seen most all of the human condition and to have withstood it in grace and compassion. Weighty elders. Most of my associations with 'weight' are negative though. Particularly if placed with a possessive pronoun: my weight, her weight, his weight.

The Americanized expansion of ‘size’ conditions this in me, from the outside, while my own stories of shame condition it from the inside. I remember going to the local Dairy Queen to get a mini-blizzard sometime last year. (I’m one of those whose sweet tooth is fairly small. It allows me to enjoy a couple bites of an ice-cream or sweet treat and be more than satisfied. Bread and pasta? Those are my insatiables!) My husband and I sat, savoring our sweets, and noticed the mural on the wall. It was an old photograph of a crowd of people, all ages, gathering for the opening of an ice cream shop. The picture was blown up to cover the entire side wall of the Dairy Queen. The year looked about 1950-something, judging by the dress and cars that were in it. Because it had been suggested by some dear friends of ours, we looked at the mural with intention and noticed what they had, which was quite startling. Every single person in that photo was slender or of solid build. Not one obese person was in the entire photo, a picture of a large crowd. Perhaps it was a statement that the shop had just opened, so no associations of stress relief had had time to be drawn with the product to be sold there! Not one overweight person appeared, in a random old photo of the joint. Fast forward to today, in Midwestern, economically-challenged Ohio? It’s a rare thing to find a slender person, especially over the age of 30. Weight today brings immediate association of over-eating, neglect of the body, a tone of judgment. Weight. Too much. Overweight.

I’m conditioned from my insides to condemn my own weight, or condemn myself for my own weight. I’ve listened some for where this comes from. Some of it comes from my mother’s indirect and direct narratives about her own weight. I remember a ‘cute’ story told of me when I was probably 4 or 5. Mom came downstairs with an announcement, “I’m 145!” Wanting to join in what appeared to be a celebration, I (apparently) asked, “Is today your birthday?” After the howls of laughter subsided, the exchange went into the little orange book that held all the cute and silly things my sister and I said while growing up. But there was a collision of weight, age, and womanhood that happened at some deep level. I learned that 145 lbs was a weight to aim for, even though I'm well over 5'10''. Some of the condemnation or shame comes from growing up with a physician father, professionally inclined to care deeply about weight and its relationship to health. I don't remember him ever judging my weight, but I felt a judgment, which I probably transferred on him, from whatever subconscious energies that were in the house. This energy was often imposed upon him, however, by patients of his we would see at the local Friendly’s on Sunday lunches, after church. “I didn’t order the sundae,” they would say, passing by our table on the way to pay the bill at the front door. Rarely was there a “Hello” or a communal inquiry, “How are you?”, but “I didn’t eat any ice cream” with a nervous laugh in front of a doctor and his family. Mostly, this negativity comes from a long-conditioned dislike and embarrassment of my abdomen, already well represented in my blog-pages. Reclaiming this well of creative energy in my body, in my life, I’ve found a better balance of acceptance and transformation here. I’m getting more adept at catching my internal critic, gently thanking her for her voice that, when shrill, did bring my attention to issues of weight and health, but then asking her to quiet her fear while accepting my pleasure at my build, my size, my strength, even the abundance of energy stored there for all my needs. We are all finding a way to live together, my weighty voices and my elder wisdom. Weighty elder, perhaps I’ll become someday.

So how does one face one’s own weight in the world? Just that—face it. Face it, even grow it for balance of strength and flexibility in the world. I may have an overdeveloped enjoyment of all things bread or pasta, but I know that, and regularly check in with myself to see how deep the addiction has gone. I don’t withhold the breads from myself, nor do I gorge on carbohydrates, but I live with a healthy awareness of the aimed-middle, a complex rhythm of delight and measured moderation. I did find a good running habit, to make use of the carbohydrates too. I miss that cardio exercise in my life, so am finding the time again to walk, perchance to jog and run.

I’m facing my weight in a new way with the pull-up project. I’m holding my own, I guess you could say. What does it feel like to develop strength in my upper body, and learn to use the resources that I have, to play with my own weight? To hold it for short periods of time, pulling against gravity to feel my own strength developing, bit by bit?

What I can say so far is that I’m learning a new way to be in my own body, to be responsible for it, to care for it even as I develop more of it. In ironic fashion for most of my mental habits with respect to my body, I’m now bulking up weight, so I can hold this “more” of it myself. This “return to the body” is requiring me to make more of a certain kind of it—muscle, in back, arms, core—in order to be able to face it and consider it a strong point of myself, my being, my way in the world. I think I’m falling in love with physical strength, not just intellectual or spiritual strengths. Physical strength for its own sake? No. But physical strength that allows me to be as weighty in the world as I can withstand, can hold, can love.