Running rocks. I’m not very good at it, but it transforms me. After just a km or two, I feel like a swimmer bursting to the surface after a deep dive – the air is so rich, life so exhilarating. Suddenly my world expands to the horizon in all directions, and anything’s possible.
Running is like meditation, in a way. It’s alone time, where you become acutely aware of all the noise in your head. And both are also physical things – yes! – because when meditating or running, you really get to see how thoughts affect how you physically feel. Positive thinking gets you an extra mile. Anger causes pain.
I felt this today. I harbour a deep anger, and I don’t know what to do about it. Well, actually, I do. I just have to call Joan and tell her I’d really like something of dad’s. It’s been three years since he died, and I’ve not heard from her. We were never close, Joan and I, but just makes sense that she would be aware that I might want a token of Dad’s life, something I can point to with my son and say, “That was your grandfather’s.”
But then, things don’t matter. I guess what makes me angry is not being treated with respect, again. And feeling like I have to ask for it.
All I’d really like to have is dad’s tool belt, the one he wore while we built the cabin together. I’m no gold digger, even if dad had any when he died. Oh, but he did, kinda. Yeah. I also think Joan should return dad’s wedding ring, the one from his first marriage, to my mother. Joan’s his second wife, after all, and if she’s to stupid to realize that the ring’s not hers, then someone ought to tell her. (Gee, there’s the anger again).
Om. Ommm. Deal with your anger.
At one level, this is all pretty silly. I deal with tough situations all the time these days, and I like to think I’m a pretty honest guy. But what I hate is how this situation makes me feel like a powerless 10 year old, again. That’s a crummy feeling.
You’ve got my address, Joan. If this makes you mad, go for a run.
