Heal to be free

I feel like a fraud if I use someone's words to describe how I feel. Right now my words are not seasoned enough to describe where I am or how I feel.

The Slip
By Wendell Berry

The river takes the land, and leaves nothing.
Where the great slip gave way in the bank
and an acre disappeared, all human plans
dissolve. An awful clarification occurs
where a place was. Its memory breaks
from what is known now, begins to drift.
Where cattle grazed and trees stood, emptiness
widens the air for birdflight, wind, and rain.
As before the beginning, nothing is there.
Human wrong is in the cause, human
ruin in the effect–but no matter;
all will be lost, no matter the reason.
Nothing, having arrived, will stay.
The earth, even, is like a flower, so soon
passeth it away. And yet this nothing
is the seed of all–the clear eye
of Heaven, where all the worlds appear.
Where the imperfect has departed, the perfect
begins its struggle to return. The good gift
begins again its descent. The maker moves
in the unmade, stirring the water until
it clouds, dark beneath the surface,
stirring and darkening the soul until pain
perceives new possibility. There is nothing
to do but learn and wait, return to work
on what remains. Seed will sprout in the scar.
Though death is in the healing, it will heal.

Why I run

I made a promise to myself that I would either run a marathon or climb Rainier while my grandpa is alive. I picked the marathon...I know I can run.

But it is Sunday morning, early enough for the heat to not yet get started. I have nine miles ahead of me, enough to make my stomach hurt and doubt myself.

So I ask myself, why am I doing this? Why do I run?

Because I can. I think it is a huge blessing to have a healthy body that can be pushed, broken down and built again. I run because I need that time to process, to continually think about something, to run that matter into the road. I run because there is a strong desire to put distance between me and my past. I run because it feels so good when I am done.

In October I will run for grandpa. He was in the Marine Corps. during WWII and was during while serving. There is still something about Grandpa that is a Marine. He is tough, it runs in his blood. He has taught me how to toughen up, how to say "damn it, I am going to do it" he has taught me to believe in all outcomes. But he is also a tender man, one who cares for his kids and grandchildren, wants the best for them and will listen to your story.

And so even as I acknowledge right now that I normally run for myself, I run to get farther from something, I recognize that in October, I will run towards something, towards the person I am which has been greatly influenced by Grandpa.

Letting them in

This morning at 5:45 I heard a noise I could not place.
Not waves, not the coffee maker, not a knock at the door.
So I had to open my eyes.

There was bird in my room!
I little brown bird flying into the window over and over.
I quickly got up and closed the hallway door, grabbed a towel.

What happened next might have been a dream...it was 5:45am

I calmly and slowly approached the bird
telling it, "It's ok, it's ok" as if the bird was completely aware of what I was saying.
It began to stop flying into the window and then it sat on the sill calmly waiting.
I came closer and it jumped onto the towel and just sat there!
It was if the bird realized I was trying to help it. Once I got outside he flew away!

I know it is just a bird and I really did not do much but if you have ever tried to get a bird
out of your house it usually involves more than one person, a broom and some careful planning.

Later this morning on the ferry, I realized how much I am like that bird;
flying into the same window over and over
desperately trying to return to where I came from
trying to get out.

Grace, hope and strength come in the form of a towel
I just have to trust the One saying
"it's ok" enough to jump on.