Yes. I admit it. I danced to Katrina and the Waves. I admit that I "walked on sunshine" - and that I'm gonna do it again.
I was in my room yesterday afternoon when luckily, I noticed myself starting to feel listless. I sensed the storm approaching; I caught that unmistakable scent of nearing mental rain. And for whatever reason, I had the sense to take a look at my thoughts and notice the effect they were having before I found myself drenched and wallowing. Fortunately, I was present enough to confront it and nip that whole scene in the bud. My solution? To shake off those creepy, crawly agents of crapdom and make room for a little light - by turning on the music and literally shaking, swinging, and sweating them out of me.
I have no moves, I just...move. Considering the body-mind connection, it makes sense that a static body, one at rest and not allowed its exercise, could lead to a mind-stream that's static and fraught. So I figured in order to revitalize the moment and my mind, it would be a good idea to get up and move my ass. I've always liked to dance. I've always known it makes me feel good. In the way that meditation has become so important to me with regards to my soul, I'd like to see exercise become just as important to me in regards to my body - because up until now, it hasn't been. It's always come in fits and starts. But the body is a temple, partner, manifestation of the soul; they go together. It deserves more. As do I. But in order to spark the necessary desire, I need to redefine the purpose it serves.
Now, I realize that my needing exercise is no epiphany. But today I noticed that it's there, midst the sweat and Highness, where the magic happens. I've beheld exercise in a screwy light. I've looked at it as a tool to getting my body in shape - which it is, and that's wonderful - the trouble is: I'm prone to thinking of it as a means to an end, a necessary evil, and a miserable one at that. Which just sets it up in my mind as something to be avoided. Even though I've seen again and again that once I get up and take that first step, I love it - during and after! It's the stories beforehand that keep me from it - every single time. But when I'm in it, I am in it. I'm in what Abraham calls the Vortex. I'm in that sweet spot of absolute acceptance. Total surrender to the Now. That space of non-resistance. It's where the visions appear. It's where I connect with Possibility. I love that I'd learn to habitually return to this place - or state of being - in times of impending distress. Instead of turning to sugar, turn to activity. Turning from carbs and to music. Food is a story for another day, though. Movement for the sake of channeling Good, that's what I'm going for; that's my plan; that's my ticket to the kind of lightness I'm looking for. The focus needs to shift from a future pay off to the present euphoria - that's enough! I can imagine how this could change my relationship to exercise. Unlike what the mind would have me believe, it will not be some chore I have to suffer through, but instead, become an act of daily communion - from which fitness will surely follow.
As I'm writing this, the thought appears: "Yeah, if it were so easy, you'd have done it before, fatso." And right on its heels, Byron Katie appears (She's been doing that a lot lately. Mos def a BFF!), taking me by the hand and asking, "Sweetheart, is that true? How do you react when you believe that thought?" And with that, I'm reminded of the tools I have for the times when thoughts come calling that would seek to keep me from standing up, turning up the volume, and acknowledging my Peace one shimmy, or ass-shake, at a time.