Day 3--Umbrage, Anyone?
Yes, today I'd like to give away my outrage. I've already had a couple of servings of righteous indignation, and it's not even noon yet. I guess I need to repeat yesterday's insight--"things are"--ten times a day until it sinks in a little better.
Fear not, readers, this is still a running log. Here I share how, in addition to getting physically healthier from running, I receive gifts from it that delight and sustain my emotions and intellect. Today, feeling outrage rise in me over imagined injustices at work sent me in search of some of the inner peace I sometimes access while running. I found some clues in my folder of recent running photos.
How I love living in Berkeley, despite (or perhaps because) it is 50% populated by wackos. (I'm not telling you whether I'm inside or outside of that portion of its citizens.) This van earned its keep yesterday when on my run I snapped its picture. It's now in the archives, forever a reminder in purple prose to keep my brain straight when it starts wandering down various crooked paths. I can imagine in times of stress just jumping into this van, which undoubtedly instantly conveys all its passengers to a place of sanity.
I know I'm doing well when I start noticing light. The photo of these lovely patches I found on the Greenwich Steps Monday during my climb to Coit Tower reminds me to turn toward the sun when my interior recesses get too dark.
Note to self for Day 3: Anger is not art. Anger is not sunlight. Anger is ephemera, easily generated and, with practice, readily dispersed.
Fear not, readers, this is still a running log. Here I share how, in addition to getting physically healthier from running, I receive gifts from it that delight and sustain my emotions and intellect. Today, feeling outrage rise in me over imagined injustices at work sent me in search of some of the inner peace I sometimes access while running. I found some clues in my folder of recent running photos.
How I love living in Berkeley, despite (or perhaps because) it is 50% populated by wackos. (I'm not telling you whether I'm inside or outside of that portion of its citizens.) This van earned its keep yesterday when on my run I snapped its picture. It's now in the archives, forever a reminder in purple prose to keep my brain straight when it starts wandering down various crooked paths. I can imagine in times of stress just jumping into this van, which undoubtedly instantly conveys all its passengers to a place of sanity.
I know I'm doing well when I start noticing light. The photo of these lovely patches I found on the Greenwich Steps Monday during my climb to Coit Tower reminds me to turn toward the sun when my interior recesses get too dark.
Note to self for Day 3: Anger is not art. Anger is not sunlight. Anger is ephemera, easily generated and, with practice, readily dispersed.
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