Falling In The Woods

I have been running in the woods a few times a week for the past few years. Miraculously, though I have taken some serious trips that sent me flying ahead of my feet, I never took a fall. Alas, the fateful day arrived. I was running along a rocky incline when out of the corner of my eye I saw a dark animal running toward me in the distance. I glanced over and when I turned my head back, I tripped on a rock and landed on my hands and knees. I was stunned, saying to myself, "I can't believe it, I actually fell this time! I actually went down!" I stood quickly, knowing I was okay, but still on alert for the possible dog coming after me. On impulse, I instantly started running again, feeling a deep burning in my hand, convinced that there must be blood or that it was on its way. But, there wasn't any; there was simply the imprint of rocks in my hand. As I kept going, I turned on my meditation mind, which said, "okay, this is what a burning hand feels like. It is not bad or good. It is just a sensation." If you are rolling your eyes at me right now, I don't blame you. It sounds too detached to be real. Honestly though, being curious like that stopped my mind from spinning in all the ways it could and instead brought me into the present, which wasn't all that bad. But then, an even greater thing happened. My hurting hand, which had also been cold from the fall air, touched the warmth of my torso and felt relieved, so I purposely put my hand on my warm ribcage as I ran for a few minutes. I realized that I had what I needed to heal myself in that very moment. All of this might sound insignificant, but if I think about what I used to do in response to these situations, I am aware that a critical shift happened somewhere along the way.

Not that long ago, I might have fallen like that and my immediate response would have been to get angry at myself for falling, or at the owner of the off-leash dog for scaring me, or I would have jumped to frustration about how this inconvenience was getting in the way of my run, or my day. In all of that anger, I certainly would not have recognized how the touch of my own body could feel good to the part of me that was hurting. When you drop a plate or a glass and it shatters into a million pieces, what attitude do you take? Do you get annoyed or do you have compassion as you would with a friend who dropped it? Finding that tender way of being with myself did not come on its own. I wasn't raised talking to myself with kindness over hardships. It is a voice that developed over recent years and one that requires practice. The practice of loving-kindness meditation is intended to find this voice, a place inside that wishes ourselves and others well. It is a practice I find myself doing when I am running late and feeling stressed. Instead of getting angry at myself for being behind, as I used to do, I now say, "wow, this is a hard feeling; it is a difficult place to have to be; may I have ease." It is so very different and powerful.

What I now understand is that the tone I take and the words I say to myself can bring me further down the path of love, connection, and openness, or further down the path of anger, blame, and hatred (often self-hatred). We can actually choose what route we want to take and its impact is far reaching. When I take care of myself, when I can feel empathy for myself, I am much more inclined to have empathy for others. The great news is that I am with myself 24 hours a day. There is that much time to practice. 

I fell in the woods and, in the falling, I gained clarity in the powerful nature of loving-kindness and how it opens the door to healing in ourselves and others. It motivates me to keep practicing. I welcome us all to ask how we speak to ourselves when the going gets rough in the daily happenings of life? Is it possible to find a gentle, loving voice to respond to the ongoing challenges we face in any given day? It could be when we are struggling with how our clothes fit, or when we snap at our child in exasperation, or when we feel exhausted from staying up too late, or when we feel stressed because we can't pay a bill, or anything else that might arise. If we can't find that tender voice in those moments, can we respond lovingly to the voice that says we can't? The important part is that we begin somewhere. Over time, it will add up and we will be the person we never thought we could be.