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Videos
Have you found your Why yet?
Does it wake you up every day?
Discipline. Intent. Consistency. Hard work. Momentum.
Is it at the fore front of your mind? Is it ALL you have?
(yes, I have an exam tomorrow :P)
On Loving a Prophet
Phew. That must have taken a lot out of Jeanann.
Someone asked me the other day if Ive ever been in love. I said, I dont know.
Have I ever thought I was in love? Yes! Almost every time!
But I grow up more everyday, and push my learning curve up that steep hill, slowly but steadily.I only know, I will keep pushing.
So, what IS love?
Phew.
Love is everything. Everything is love. Love is neither created nor destroyed, it simply changes form, and meaning.
I cant do ALL the pushing in one day!
Calling Mom
oh, oh! thats something.
Its just co-incidence that Mothers Day was yesterday and this stumbled and rolled over onto my screen.
From personal experience and some impersonal experience, Always Call Mom. Maybe she wont understand, maybe she will freak out and HER coping mechanisms will swing into action and the ounce of control you still thought you had left will ‘poof!’ into thin air. But then things will settle down, because you will not be alone, and since your personality was at least remotely derived from her, either she will see or you will.
And sometimes, she will surprise you by understanding exactly how you feel, and pull out the exact antidote you can use.
Moms have hidden depths. Moms were teenagers once.
Dont wait for your smart phone to mis-dial Mom. Mom is one of the friends you should probably keep in touch with.
Labrynth
Behind your Broadway show
I heard a voice say, “Please don’t hurt me”
You’ve carried on so long, you couldn’t stop if you tried it
You’ve built your wall so high
That no one could climb it
I don’t think this is an issue in just the United States! Sure, we have more raging issues as a ‘developing’ country, but maybe this is where some of our social problems take root.
What is this constant difference highlighted between men and women?
Why cant we look at people as just that?
Why do we have to create labels, and boundaries and fit circles into square slots?
Does an environment like this enable men and women who cross boundaries of personal space and molest, rape, eve-tease? It doesn’t excuse their behaviour, but if we are looking to change, then maybe this is where it starts.
Why is it, “Be a man” or “behave like a girl” and not, “be yourself” or “be fearless”?
Are you saying fear is a feminine attribute ? Have you seen a tigress protecting her cubs? We don’t even need to look beyond our mothers to find courage, strength, patience and selfless love. Do we need to limit these characteristics to a gender?
Lots of questions.
Call it Magic
Sometimes the days are roller coaster rides.
The movie I live in, is technicolor, with an oscillating background score and a whole bunch of volatile emotions flung about like pages torn from picture magazines, stuck on a large yellow wall, dotted with rough illustrations in ink, filled with mad things people say. And a desk.
Inevitable, that a bookshelf should extend from the floor to the ceiling. Sitting next to the large window with the wood chimes and the billowing white cotton curtain with golden elephants stamped all over.
Inevitable, that a cat should be curled up in the cushy corner that I want to occupy.
Inevitable for Ayn Rand to continue to recur in that corner of my field of vision.
The framed Beatles poster isn’t quite straight. There is a Bob Marley one too, hiding behind the door.
The pieces of the jigsaw puzzle lie scattered near my blue-yellow running shoes.
Ah, daydreams.
Surviving from run to run, waiting for the time to lace up and struggle every step up that hill repeat run, complaining about form and pace, building castles for the marathon coming up.
I’m just happy I’m running, that i can feel the wind in my hair, that I can feel my muscles complain about a rising mileage, that sweat dripping into my eyes is a sensation I can look forward to.
The memory of the profound simplicity of field life keeps piping up like an intelligent and obstinate child.
When did wanderlust find me and trap my soul? I cant remember.
I leave you with Coldplay playing Magic. The music floats in the air like ringlets of smoke or bubbles with a dot of rainbow, created from watered down shampoo and a pen without a refill.
running away with Running
Every morning I fight with myself, wrestle with my inertia, shun all the plausible logic that my slothful brain hurls at me, simply in an effort to get out of bed. Its still dark outside, the grandparents tea isn’t ready for me to steal a sip from yet, and I swear every reason I can think of is right there for me NOT to go for that run. Experience has taught me to put on my shoes despite everything. Everyone in the house has express instructions to push me out of the house and close the door behind me. Everyday I walk to the starting point feeling apprehensive, wondering if I’ll disappoint myself today. I find myself trying to gauge what my knees are feeling like, gingerly feeling for rubbery legs, mentally preparing myself for possibly just an okay-but-not-outstanding-run, scared that it will disappoint me into not repeating the routine tomorrow.
I can tell you, at the end of NO run have i ever regretted those lost minutes of sleep, that pre-wakefulness scuffle with myself.
With every meter that I run, things begin to fall into perspective, the sweat seems to wash out some cobwebs, and an internal dialogue begins to give me a sense of control over battles that I can pick.
Outside of my mind, I am gasping for breath, grimacing, trying to correct my posture, breathe from my diaphragm, struggling to make the next step fall well. Inside, the jigsaw begins to put itself in order.
Coach says when I run faster, push myself towards my potential, out of my comfort pace, the flaws in my form fall away. That the downward slope, the easier run is the time to introspect, straighten out your form, the upward slope is what tests it.
To me, that sounds astoundingly like an analogy to things in general.
I’m no ace athlete training for the next big marathon. I just run, because at age five my father began dragging me out with him on his circuit, ignoring my cranky complaints about aching ears, teaching me to breathe in rhythm BEFORE i fell short of breath. At some point I forgot to complain and became addicted to the endorphin release.
I’m still struggling to get out of bed every morning. Sometimes, I manage to convince myself that my excuse for not planting my feet on the road was valid. But every time I tell myself, it wont be valid tomorrow.
When everything else is difficult, the easiest thing to do is tighten your laces and be grateful that you can run. That you remember how to push yourself.
Keep running.
(next time will be less heavy on the sentiments, I promise!)
The Nomad in Spirit 