Life is a chemical reaction.
Sometimes it is a violent combustion reaction, leaving destruction in its path.
Other times it is a very orderly and predictable reaction that precipitates a beautiful outcome.
In every instance, the limiting reagent is time.
It’s that magical time of year when new notebooks and folders line the aisles and there are 100 different writing implements to choose from – That’s right! Schools supplies are in stores!
I always loved this time of year growing up. By the end of summer, I was always ready to go back to school. See my friends. Return to my school routine.
I reveled in the trip to the store to get my school supplies for the year. All the notebooks, pens, folders, fresh Crayola markers, and cool new Trapper Keepers. I had a Trapper Keeper when I was in elementary school. It was an incredible invention for a school nerd like me. Made me feel like a cooler kid than I really was.
I say “school nerd” because even 16 years after I finished my master’s degree, I still take time to pour through the school supplies each year. I get excited when I see all the new things that have been created. The pretty gel pens, the grid-spaced composition notebooks, and the new organizational supplies for students (though none will ever be as awesome as the Trapper Keeper). I usually leave the store with at least a few new things for me to use.
As a teacher, I live by the semester just as students do. When I was a student, I saw the start of a new school year as an opportunity for a fresh start. New supplies, new clothes, and new opportunities for growth and learning. A chance to be a better me.
I still see the start of the academic year as a clean slate. A chance to do it all over again, and hopefully a little bit better than the previous year. This is a gift.
May we all be given the gift of a fresh start. May we all have the opportunity to do whatever we embark upon better than we did previously.
When I was growing up, my mom would tell me that it took me 36 hours to be born, but I have been the 5-minute wonder ever since.
I didn’t fully understand what she was saying then. As an adult, I realize that she’s not wrong. I may have taken my sweet time entering this world, but I have been making up for that leisure ever since.
I am a doer. I keep a bullet journal full of my goals, ideas, and tasks. I run on a schedule. I want to get it done, quickly, efficiently, and move on. I would rather work first and play later. I am driven and sometimes impatient. This is a strength and a weakness I am learning to work with.
I have decided to take this idea and use it as a series on this blog called 5-Minute Wonder. These will be short blogs that put an idea out there and then move on. I will tag them all as 5-Minute Wonder so they can be easily accessed together by readers. The posts in this series will appear randomly as I have short ideas and thoughts to share.
I hope you enjoy.
There was a new person next to me in yoga class today. Young, about 25, flat stomach, and curves where they should be. Her seemingly perfect, young body makes me very aware of my own.
As I bend into forward fold, I am aware of my ankles. They are my mother’s ankles when she was forty. I don’t remember asking her for them. I prefer she’d kept them.
I become keenly aware as I step back into downward dog that I am not as flexible as I was when I was 30. Did my hamstrings get shorter?
Child’s pose is awkward. COVID weight gain has put my stomach in my way. I have to open my legs wider to let the extra me fall between them.
In high lunge, I stare up at my arms. They are soft. I remember that my arms continue waving after my hand stops. A bonus wave that I wish didn’t exist.
In forward standing A, I get a good look between my legs. My thighs are good buddies now when I walk. They press and rub together. They don’t seem to understand social distancing.
I realize my t-shirt keeps riding up on me when I bend over. I make a mental note to order some long-tail shirts from Duluth Trading Company. I must guard against plumber’s butt.
Forward low lunge requires an extra blanket under my knees so it doesn’t hurt. My hips resist the stretch.
Fierce pose makes my quads burn. They are far from ready for the long days cycling at RAGBRAI coming this July. I am reminded that I need to start training.
Balance poses make me feel strong and competent again. Tree, Eagle, Warrior 3. I flow in and out of them with confidence. Steady. Strong. Focused.
I am sure no one notices my inner turmoil. Everyone in the class is focused on their own, but in my mind, everyone sees my rolls and imperfections. My limitations and gracelessness. All the extra me I wish wasn’t. I feel like I don’t belong here.
But, I do belong here.
This is temporary.
All of it is temporary.
The tight hamstrings, the bonus wave, my mom’s ankles. They will all change. The extra me will melt away as I bike this summer. My hamstrings will elongate and feel less tight. My hips will open to lunges. The fire in my quads will calm. This is where I am now, but not who I am. The day will come when I may not be able to do yoga at all. When I may not be able to bike long distances or even walk short ones.
So I smile at the resistance in my hips, the extra me that rubs when I walk, and the strength in my tree pose. These too are temporary. I will embrace them for the time they are with me.
It’s unseasonably hot for this early in June. Already in the low 90s and it’s just the first week of June. Summer came early this year in Minnesota.
By 9am it is 78 degrees and sunny. The humidity isn’t high and the breeze makes it bearable. I made a vow last night to ride today. I prepped my water bottles and riding clothes last night to make it easier to get going. My attempt to lower the activation energy for this endeavor. I eat breakfast, journal, put on my clothes, and hit the trail. My goal is to start between 8 and 8:30a. This way, I can be home before it starts getting too hot. I mount my bike at 8:24a.
The heat is a serious demotivator for me. I grew up in Missouri along 2 rivers, so I am used to the heat and humidity, but it’s harder for me to tolerate this summer. I don’t know if it’s turning 40 or being the most overweight I have ever been…or both. I long for the Minnesota Junes where the daily high didn’t often top 85 Fahrenheit. Temperatures in the upper 60s to 80 is my sweet spot.
View from behind the handlebars.
I decide I will ride for about an hour and see how far that gets me. Starting is the hardest part. I feel strong in the saddle. Despite not riding on my trainer regularly this winter, my legs quickly hit a good cadence. The air on my skin feels luxurious as I roll through neighborhood streets to the paved trails. Under the interstate, through Todd Park, and around Eastside Lake. I glide through town, passing many walkers and cyclists along the way. They have the same idea – exercise before the heat of the day.
I was hesitant to ride in the morning. I usually get up and work in the morning and then play later in the day. I am a “work first, play later” kind of person. Riding in the morning feels like the opposite of that, but I quickly realize that my body is awake enough to ride and my mind enjoys the quiet before the work of the day. It’s just me, my bike, and the pavement. My mind wonders as I cruise. As my heart rate rises, it feels like my arteries and veins are being flushed, the stagnant areas refreshed. I feel renewed for the day…and very sweaty.
I arrive home 55 minutes and 11.5 miles later. Not bad for the first day. I stretch, hydrate, and cool myself in front of a fan before showering off the sweat and sunscreen. A successful start to the day.
My bike will rest against a shelf in the kitchen until tomorrow morning when we ride again at 8-8:30a.
I am a podcast addict. History, current events, personal growth, science – I listen to more podcasts than is probably healthy for a person. Some of my favorite podcasts involve people sharing stories about their lives. The types of deep, open conversations that would make most people uncomfortable. That’s my jam. The podcast I highlight here creates a space for those types of conversations and intimacy.
This image is taken from Audible.com.
Nadia Bolz-Weber is a minister and founder of the House For All Sinners and Saints church in Denver, CO. She is the author of 3 books, a YouTube limited series called Have a Little Faith produced by Makers, and an outspoken advocate for the outcasts. She began The Confessional podcast in April 2020.
The Confessional is a place for people to share things they have done they are not proud of. We all have done things we aren’t proud of, so the conversations had here are for all of us. The conversations in the podcast are frank, intimate, and use adult language. I get a big kick out of hearing an ordained minister use the F-word. If you don’t like coarse language, then this podcast may not be for you. The use of adult language only makes me enjoy this podcast more because the focus is on accepting and embracing our humanness, not about being “perfect” or conforming to what some religion thinks is appropriate behavior. Bolz-Weber focuses on honoring all our parts, not just the shiny clean pieces. She wants to have read discussions about all parts of the human experience.
Bolz-Weber offers the guest a prayer at the end of each episode. She emphasizes that while the prayer may be specifically written for her guest, it could be for any one of her listeners. She offers absolution not just to her guest, but to all of us. Her confessional encompasses all of us. Her grace, compassion, and love envelopes all who listen to the conversation.
The thing I love the most about this podcast is it shares stories of real humans in an authentically compassionate way. Bolz-Weber creates a space for her guests to share their biggest secrets and shames in life in a real, compassionate space. By providing a place for her guest to share their story, Bolz-Weber creates a space for all of our stories to be told, examined, and accepted. Being human is messy. We mess up. We do things we are not proud to admit. Bolz-Weber allows us to accept the flaws of our humanness, embrace our screw-ups, learn from them, and do better in the future. She practices the kind of compassion that Jesus taught. While I am not a Christian, I still believe Jesus was a good person and taught us how to love each other. Bolz-Weber is a walking example of the behavior of Jesus. Listening to these stories reminds me that while I am not perfect, there is always the opportunity to do better in the next moment.
Until we have examined our dark secrets, shames, and mistakes and accepted that we are fallible and imperfect humans, we are unable to embrace who we are and the journey we are undertaking on this planet. Until we can reconcile our undesirable pieces, we can’t grow into the person we wish to be. Bolz-Weber opens the door for each of us to examine and accept those pieces of ourselves so that work can begin.
You can find The Confessional on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Audible, or wherever you get your podcasts.
Dr. Ray Christian, Storyteller and Fulbright Specialist
Forgiveness and Reconciliation with Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg
Kasey Anderson, Singer/Songwriter
Megan Phelps-Roper, Former Member of the Westboro Baptist Church
Montgomery’s Truck Stop (1587 North Glenstone Avenue) sat at the northwest corner of Division Street and Glenstone Avenue in Springfield, Missouri. A poorly maintained asphalt parking lot surrounded the light-colored brick building. Some friends and I visited this dingy hole-in-the-wall weekly for a while in college and spent hours “doing homework” and solving the problems […]
©2023 Catherine Haslag, All Rights Reserved.
© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine Haslag