I’m in a liminal space of stubbornness. It’s a little craw I always get stuck in post-tour. I don’t want to engage with anything that takes effort, which is a problem because I am a hyperactive person who thrives on tasks. As you can imagine it creates a little inner-fight that pushes and pulls and generates, what else?: Anxiety. I had to force myself to take the dogs out into the Lung last night, and I’m really glad I did. (except for the giant tick on my thigh.) Walking and hiking breaks the spell of inner crab. It was fresh and muddy (the dogs managed to bring half of it home with them…) and green as you can imagine. The smell of milkweed was downright holy. It’s at its peak right now and I’m so glad I’m not missing it this year.
Inspired by my cousin, Tara, I recently acquired a fitbit. I was shocked by how little I walk when A. on tour and B. someplace working on writing, and C. at home lately. Basically all the time. I have always been a fast and voracious walker. What happened? It’s a common problem people in creative jobs and/or people who work at home face (and people in general, actually… I’m just speaking from my own experience.); generating motivation to move your body. Tour is super physical so I don’t notice the inner fight as much, my body is pretty clear in what it asks me for. I did have to practice hearing it over the years though. So now, in the fugue of stubbornness I’m trying to keep moving. My mental (and physical, obviously) health soars when I move regularly. Not moving is one of the things that contributes to the “dark corners” I mentioned back in my GRAND CANYON FROM ABOVE post.
People talk about the benefits of movement all the time, but it’s a really hard thing to stay faithful to if your surroundings and circumstances change all the time. For one thing, there's a multibillion dollar industry telling people how wrong they are doing it. Why even start? A lot of it is unsustainable and I always felt like I had to trick myself into doing things. I wouldn’t do things for myself, but I was mortified if I didn’t show up on time for a trainer, so I paid. I was privileged to do so for a few years. I also loved it, but it’s only a bandaid if you don’t have ways to move for you in the times when those luxuries are not there or you can’t afford them.
When I was younger and lived in cities I walked everywhere! Rain (mostly rain) or shine, I’d put on my headphones and go for miles. Partly out of necessity and partly because I hated waiting for public transit. I was a dyed-in-the-wool Pacific Northwest kid so getting wet was just a given. It started when I was in my early teens and didn’t have a car. I long-strided my way ridiculous distances. As long as I had batteries in my jank, off-brand walkman I was go. It’s a huge part of who I was, and now my body longs for that and misses it. I learned so much about music in tandem with using my body. It was a perfect way to spend time and get where I needed to go. It was the time I needed to day dream. I need to find a new version of that. I’m good at remembering to stretch with yoga most days, but I need to reconnect with that creative machine.
How do you stay connected with your body and soul? How hard or easy is it to hear what your body is saying to you?
Oh gosh this makes me remember how when I lived in New York City I would walk miles every day -- like from the East Village to Lincoln Center; from Times Square all the way down to Washington Square Park. And when I first moved to Chicago it’s how I learned the land of the land -- or Wicker Park at least. I love how these walks helped inscribe a city on my body, because no matter how much the urban landscape changes, the road map is still the same.
Instead of sitting around, waiting for the bus, I'll start walking in the direction of travel toward the next stop. I use the "One Bus Away" app that tracks the buses so I know when to stop and actually wait, but sometimes, due to scheduling or whatnot, I'll end up walking the route I was going to ride, and listen to a podcast along the way.