FIRST run of summer yesterday - Sunday March 2nd. I know it was summer because I set out without a headtorch and I could see! 6:42am sunrise as I hit the road a few minutes before that. IN the first quarter of the run I crossed paths with more deer than cars. I listened to more songbirds than engines. I breathed more scent from crocuses, daffodils and snowdrops than exhaust fumes. So, arguably those flowers are all spring flowers, yes. And early March is spring, yes. And the sprinkling of rain and - still - flooded footpaths and by-ways are remnants of the atrociously wet winter, yes. However, I am running for summer. I am pushing for the bright mornings and clear skies, I am going for the fine weather and delicious hot scented summer air. And nothing else. I left behind me, quite happily - though I am sure before the slide towards winter following the Solstice in June I will navigate plenty more in the dark - thrilling moments of running along trails spotlighting my location with my headtorch and staring bright eyed up into the cosmos and playing games of constellation spotting. Running towards Orion, or dashing towards The Plough, connecting the dots and finding Polaris as I bend my way back north and shoot for home under a sky of scattered specks of stars. RUNNING builds me into my biggest self. Some-one who gets up and Does. Not some-one who sits back and says, 'yeah, maybe next yeah, next time, next week...' I am deliberately and steadily releasing, through focused training and intense physical effort, a part of myself who I no longer feel a need to express and enact. THIS part is a characterisation that I have come to see in myself over the past few years of self-discovery and mental focus. This is what I feel times of my life have been shaded by, I curl up and hide. I tremble and am afraid. I try to escape from life into my own little shell of a world, not willing to express my thoughts, my opinions and my beliefs for fear of ... what? Being ridiculed, being railroaded, being trampled, laughed at, forgotten. This alter-ego, my alternative self, is a personality that I have named Pequeno. Pequeno is a Spanish word meaning Small. I choose to no longer be small. I choose to no longer be Pequeno. Pequeno is Spanish, it means 'Small'. I choose to no longer be small. I choose to no longer be Pequeno... PEQUENO does not like Blogging. Pequeno does not like coaching. Pequeno wants to settle for a quiet and low-risk strategy of non-expressive and 'playing it safe.' There is a time for Pequeno, a time for caution, a time to be safe. Unfortunately none of the world's achievements were made without risk, without danger, without putting some-thing out on the line. NOW is a time for action, for constant effort and deliberate attention. Now is a time for focused creation of the future. Without that, nothing else will come. Only a rewind and rehash of the past over and over and over. SAFETY, as Pequeno would have me live within, is not safe. It is an illusion of safety. It is a paradigm shift to leap out and create my own business, income, world, life. And it scares the life out of Pequeno, I feel him inside me squirming and kicking. Don't do it, don't do it. You can't say that. What will they think? AND who, may I ask is They? Who am I going out on the line to impress? A lot of business 'mentors' that I have had who clearly sought to feel the Pequeno within me have spoken well to him. They have fed him the fear filled world of self-employment and the difficulties of managing my own world. Pequeno hears those stories and does well at rerunning the tapes. I nod and smile and then ignore them. The mentors have told me the business model is not viable. I throw back examples of ten people who have already done it and they ask why more have not. And argue statistics and Pequeno listens, and then pops them up for me at choice (or rather inopportune) moments - which is to say somewhere between frequently and constantly! "I listened to more songbirds than engines. I breathed more scent from crocuses, daffodils and snowdrops than exhaust fumes. " PEQUENO-NO-MORE! My mantra when I am out on the trail. I may not be the fastest runner out on the trails, or in the race. I may not be running as efficiently, or training as hard, or pushing so much weight in the gym (unlikely as I never visit gyms, my exercise routine with weights involves having my son and niece sit on my back and doing push-ups (they are both 4 and thankfully my younger son, age 2, settles for sitting on my ankles!) Weight training and my life, not so much!) The precision of my training routines, and my flat tire that stops me taking a long ride home from lunch out as the boys go out on a play-date. There are all sorts of slips, trips and misadventures in this process. And Pequeno is there, noting each one down. Suggesting a little more hiding, not pushing, not going out running - it's raining and it's dark and it's flooded. Well, of course it is dark and raining and flooded. It is January 2014. What else could it be! The battle for mental supremacy in my world. Pequeno and The Weather Versus Will Power and Drive. SUNDAY 2nd March, Will Power and Drive won out a major victory. I completed my first half marathon. On ironically the same day as Reading Half, I set out at 6:40am and cruised in relative comfort the link up lap I created the night before, Winnersh to Arborfield across the back of Barkham to Wokingham, then a weave home along quiet roads. Major dilemmas on the way; wading knee deep along a footpath trashed to excess by horses - hosed off in the front garden before going into the house! And... actually that's about it. Walk break at half way to have a long drink and eat an apple. Squelching wet feet - situation normal - from the horse fields, I am getting very used to having wet feet now though, it has been a winter for wet foot running. "Pequeno and The Weather Versus Will Power and Drive..." PEQUENO was not too happy about the accomplishment. Only a suggestion of, Ok, you've done that now. Let's stop, you've proved you can do that, now, let's move on to... err, no. How about the next training session, the next run, the next early morning. The next mission. Keeping my eyes up, my feet flashing over the earth I roll over the hills and up the inclines, sights set firmly on the stars as I stitch together what celestial navigation I may be able to pull together and string up my old self to dry. Poor Pequeno will never be the same again. And that is exactly the plan.
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TODAY Monkey Mind came to play.
RECENTLY I spoke of Critic Mind and Doer Mind (Blog: Let You-Self Play, June 10th 2013). Your internal voices that speak to you, the Critic telling you to moderate your thoughts / language / actions and fit in and tread the sensible, worn trail, versus the voice of the Doer, who is your artist brain, your scheming, plotting, adventure seeking voice, the one who wants to stay up all night and do a Star Wars Marathon, or go on a canoe expedition across Sweden or cycle from Lands End to John O'Groats, and sings really loud and maybe slightly off key in the shower. DOER Voice took a cosmic leap today. My Doer Voice in my head decided she no longer wanted to be Doer. That's Boring. Doer Voice declared: I am, henceforth Monkey Mind. Monkey is wildly leaping from branch to branch, dashing across exposed areas to get to that tree over there that is covered in ripening fruit, but which is much too far for all the sensible Critic Voice driven masses to attempt to reach. Monkey grabs at the thinnest branches and jumps high and far, reaching out for the next thing to grasp hold of. MONKEY is making it up as Monkey goes along. MONKEY is loving that. Monkey is comfortable far out of Monkey's comfort zone. Monkey talks fast, acts instantly and speaks hard truths swiftly, chest out and proud. AND who, you ask is Jiriki? Jiriki is Japanese for the process of self-selection and self-promotion. Jiriki is the monkey, who grasps at his mother to be rescued. The opposition to this is Tariki, Tariki is the kitten who needs saving. Tariki is saved by his mother who comes and gently carries him to safety in her mouth, putting her down and licking him to make sure he knows he is safe, Tariki needs higher authority to select her, to move forwards, to remove risk, to endorse her. Jiriki grasps tightly on, saves herself and knows he is plenty safe enough. JIRIKI is bold and proud self-selection, the in-your-face artist who has declared herself Monkey Mind. My task as a person operating to keep my body and actions and language encountering this wonder-full beauty-full world is to hold on and see where Monkey Mind wants to go, then to go there. MONKEY Mind is that bumper sticker: 'Get in, sit down, shut up, hold on.' That's what Monkey Mind says. Then pauses… well, actually… Hold on? Forget that part, wave for the cameras! Shut up? Whoop loudly with joy-full abandon! Sit down? Sit down, not likely! Get in? Well… maybe. Only though the window though! MONKEY Mind is now in charge. Monkey mind is running the show. Critic Voice has not yet spoken up and decided on a new title, Doer Voice did not offer any suggestions and Monkey Mind is having too much fun to throw out any ideas for boring old Critic Voice as yet. LONG Live Jiriki. LONG Live Monkey Mind. ACM Positive Power-full Passionate Performance. Reference: The Icarus Deception: Seth Godin, 2012. Page 47: The Kitten and The Monkey. Copyright: Do You Zoom, Inc. A beauty-full book. Buy it. Release your-self into your-self. Fly High! LET your mind dream. When you see this route, that holiday, that project, a line up a cliff or down a mountain and feel your heart leap this is your inner child trying to go play.
YOUR inner child / artist / voice is an embodiment of your desires that you do your very best to hide with a little common sense and being 'sensible', 'mature' and 'responsible.' The inner voice that wants to play is the counter to all these sensible and socially conditioned voices. Your play-full voice sees the possibilities of joy, not the probabilities of failure and catastrophe. THIS sensible voice, the one telling you not to go play on the swings, not to buy a canvas and oil paints, not to run down a hillside as fast as you can is your 'Critic'. Your Critic is your conditioning, there to ensure you stay safe. SAFE? Safe from what? We live in a world where the danger is designed out of existence. We are surrounded by crash barriers and impact zones and air bags. We have rubberised matting and wood chip and protection. We are safely wrapped in cotton wool. So why do you need a Critic voice? THE danger is from society. You do not want to be told you are too old, stop being so silly, of course you can't… And so on, and so forth. Society conditions you well to listen to the voice of sense and reason. MEANWHILE inner child wants to go play. This is your Doer voice. Your Doer wants to express your feelings and dance under the stars and feel the wind in your hair and laugh raucously. The Critic will tell the Doer all the good reasons why this project is a terrible idea. Why that won't work. How much it is going to hurt - physically, mentally, spiritually - when you slip at any point. TODAY, your mission is to listen to your Doer. Your Doer could well be one very small voice. Assailed by your Critic into near silence. Look to the walls, the hills, the art supplies and stationary shops and see what stirs you. Then embrace the idea. IDEAS do not even need massive outlays of income. Maybe your Doer wants to write that card with the sunset and send to you an old friend. Or to sketch the trees down the road that you can see from your sofa. Or to sit quietly in a park and watch the birds. YOUR Doer does not have to break the bank to have fantastic fun times. How often as a child did you have the very best day with very little outlay of income? A few sheets of paper and some old paints dug out of the back of the garage. TODAY: GO PLAY. ACM For more joy-full expressions of your Doer voice get enrolled for an e-Course, click here for more details. |
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AuthorAndy Clubley-Moore: joyful outdoor sports activist, writer, father, husband. Lover of life, activity, success and barefoot living. |