It's been a wonderful, wet week of running. Wonderful you say? Absolutely! For me, as a British export, there are times when I miss the more marked definition of the seasons—especially at the end of a long California summer.
Yesterday morning, I was out at about 9 a.m. when a heavy downpour transformed the L.A. river into a raging torrent that would have put Newport Beach's Wedge to the test. Waves of churning water cascading downstream with some pretty nice looking faces in places! As I passed a solitary oncoming runner, the only other person out on the bike path, I extended my hand and we shared an exuberant and enthusiastic high five. The joy of our commitment to ourselves and our running glistened in the rain.
As I peered through the waterfall pouring from the peak of my hat, I thought more about the seasons. In my men's group last night, a number of us shared how differently we experience ourselves in the winter. More introspective, willing to slow down, softer.
And as I ran into now clearing skies, I recognized that the outer world of the seasons offers a wonderful mirror to different places in my own consciousness. As I looked inside myself, I found all four seasons available.
There is a spring, comprised of my steadily increasing training as I prepare for March's L.A. Marathon, and the new friendships that are blossoming as a result of my participating in the Long Beach Team in Training group. New connections that are feeding me with new ideas, different perspectives, and fresh goals.
There is a summer, the joy of my marriage and family; my daughter completing her first school semester, and the way she is filled with the all the joy, creativity, and freedom of being two-and-a-half and immersing herself in the holiday season. Such playfulness!
There is a fall, too. As many of you know, I am a recovering addict of many different shades: alcohol, drugs, cigarettes, and sex. Sometimes being in recovery is easy. Then there are times when I can feel as though I have lost dear friends. Surely looking them up one more time can't hurt. The last couple of months, those years of addiction have again looked bare to me. This too shall pass.
And there is a winter—places in my consciousness that are dark, largely inaccessible as yet, and rightly so. In that darkness, something is being seeded. The miracle of creation is at work and it requires that darkness for germination to take place effectively. Spirit is wise to keep it's plans for me veiled at times. Perhaps, if I could see them now, I'd either scare myself to death or seek to take them over and make a mess of the wonder of divine creation and inspiration.
As you run today, connect with the season you are running in and explore it as a reflection of your own way of being in the world, of your own experience. And then, as you run, journey deeper into the landscape of your awareness to find all your seasons, your spring, summer, fall, and winter. Appreciate each one of them for the many blessings, both seen and unseen that they bring.
