Conglomerates

The other day, my youngest daughter was talking about the big rocks (important things) and little rocks (lower priorities) of life. She reminded me, "You're supposed to put the big rocks in the jar first, then the little rocks. Then you put in the sand." 

That's how to successfully fit everything into a jar and into a life. If you put the lesser things in first, there isn't room for the bigger important things. If you put the highest priority things in first, the little things easily filter into the spaces.

"All I've been doing is the sand," my daughter said. 

She has been spending a lot of time thinking about the big things she wants to accomplish in life without acting on the steps that lead to them. Merely thinking about doing things isn't putting in rocks. It's more like pondering the jar. She has seemed very resistant to doing basic survival type things like eating and drinking because they've seemed too small and insignificant to her; they've seemed like nothing but sand.

That's when it hit me: survival activities are not sand. Survival is actually a very big rock made up of smaller rocks like a conglomerate boulder. It is surely the biggest rock we need to have in our jar. 

Geologists call those little rocks in a bigger, conglomerate rock, "clasts." They are smaller stones or fragments all held together by a kind of cement made of sand and clay particles. 

Those little things we do in life to survive are like the clasts that make up a conglomerate rock of survival-- the essential first rock in our life's jar.

Most of us don't really need to think much about trying to survive thanks to the relative ease of following our instincts. The effort is practically invisible. Just like most of us don't usually have to think about whether or not our heart will continue beating, we automatically do lots of little instinctual things to survive like eat, drink, sleep, and otherwise take care of our bodies. Unfortunately, my strong-minded, strong-willed daughter has somehow overridden some of those instincts. She now has to make a huge, conscious effort to do some of them.

It's preferable for the big rock of survival to remain so automatic it's invisible. It's almost like it becomes part of the jar to make it stronger. Even those seemingly small things that make life feel more survivable like exercise, personal hygiene, and having an organized environment can become almost effortlessly invisible through creating and maintaining firmly formed habits. Once these things become automatic, we have more room in our minds to focus on seemingly grander activities. 

I'm going to continue thinking about the small things that make a huge difference in life.

Beyond Tunnel Vision

Yesterday, my youngest daughter and I were walking along the Jordan River Parkway Trail. We saw several tunnels like this one that go from the trail down toward the river. It made me wonder how were these tunnels created: by water, animals, or people?

My word for the year is "vision." The idea was to try to get myself to see beyond what is just in front of me. I am good at dealing with and surviving my present circumstances, but I've not looked much beyond what's in front of me. They call that narrow way of seeing "tunnel vision." I'd like to be able to work toward dreams and goals. I want to care about my potential and my future. I admire people who are working toward plans, people who have vision.

I just did a search on the opposite of "tunnel vision." There isn't an exact antonym, but I did see "clear sight" and "multi-vision" as possibilities. I like the idea of clarity. I like the idea of a broader and varied view.

So far, I have not done well with having true "vision" this year. For a long time, I've been in a tunnel of opposition. Even so, there are some quotes that I've found that help me think more about the concept:

"Where you look is where you go." (from Noelle Pikus-Pace, retired skeleton racer.)

"He keeps dancing until it rains." (from Mel Gill discussing a 100% successful Native American rain dancer he knew.)

"Success is going from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm." (Falsely attributed to Winston Churchill among others with no firmly known origin.)

I also like the following from THIS source. It's also applicable to how we see ourselves:

 "Seeing Others Through God's Eyes

1. Study the life of Christ. The best way to understand how to see as God sees is studying the life and teachings of Jesus Christ. ...
2. Pray daily. In your daily prayers, ask God to help you start seeing people as He sees them. ...
3. Show more compassion. ...
4. Don't focus on outward appearance." 

Ideally, I'd like to see myself and my life like God does. 

Weird People Are Motivating

Going to our local rec center five times a week to jog on their small track has been really good for me. I like being able to see others who are exercising to improve their health and their lives. Even though I prefer to be alone on the track so I can focus, I often feel a sense of camaraderie and unity of purpose with other exercisers. 

There are also weird people.

One old guy, who always wears a baseball cap and a black mask, likes to encourage me. He says things like, "You're doing great!," "Way to go!," and often gives me a cheerful, "Good morning!" with a thumbs up. Sometimes he'll just put out his hand toward me and wave as I run past him. It looks like he could reach out and grab me. I'm sure he wouldn't do that. He's probably just really friendly. Sad but true, it makes me feel very uncomfortable. I call him Weird Guy. The rec center feels like a safe place, but I started going to the track earlier to avoid him.

One day, I was a little later than usual and saw Weird Guy through the windows that are between the track room and the hallway that leads toward the door to the  track's entrance. As soon as I saw him, I grabbed my coat that was hanging on a hook by the door and darted out, straight into a perpendicular hallway, before he could reach the track's door.

"Hey!" he yelled at me, though he was not close. It was almost as if he wanted me to stop and talk with him. No thanks.

I just said, "Howdy!" and practically ran away. 

There are other people I regularly encounter. One skinny lady doesn't like to run the direction we're supposed to go. The way alternates each day. There's a sign posted right by the entrance that has arrows that show the direction for the day. This lady will often go against the arrow when she's there alone until some comes onto the track. Sometimes she temporarily reverses course if I'm on the opposite side of the room. Even though it's a little odd that she does this, she doesn't bother me at all. Maybe it's because I identify with her. She's female, probably a little older than me, and likes to do arm lifts, knee lifts, and stretches on the track like I do. 

One day, the track door was locked. She was already running, but stopped to try to open the door for me, but it wouldn't open. Through the window, she motioned toward the stairs that lead to another way to access the area. I knew what she meant. It's possible to go down some stairs that lead to the basketball court and then up an inside staircase to the track which is above the court. When I made it up to the track, she smiled and said, "Now you know the secret entrance."

Then there's the old guy who bothers me only a little just because he walks faster than I can jog. He never acknowledges my presence and I'm totally fine with that. He seems a little odd too. He always wears a maroon, long-sleeved dress shirt and loose blue track pants. Is he trying to sweat? He also wears black gloves, which I find almost disturbing. Why does he wear gloves? Is it also for warmth, or are they weighted? Not knowing bothers me, only a little. He always carries a bandana in his left hand, probably to wipe the sweat from his brow.

Then there's the middle-aged-looking bald guy who always wears street clothes, a back pack, and what looks like hiking boots. I've decided he's trying to break in his boots. Maybe he's climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro this summer? Why else wear all that stuff? It's weird, but he doesn't bother me much. I call him Hiker Guy.

Hiker Guy unintentionally helped me finally achieve my goal of jogging a mile without stopping. Last week, I was only planning on running 16 of the 17.5 laps (1 mile) around the track, but just as I reached the 16th lap, Hiker Guy came onto the track to walk. He walks slowly and so do I after I'm done jogging around for a long time. I didn't want to stop jogging and walk with him, so I kept going another lap and a half to put some distance between us. That's how I made that first whole mile around the track without stopping. Thank you, Hiker Guy. 

Since I knew I could do it, I did it again yesterday. I wasn't going to go back to sixteen laps. But yesterday, I did the mile a couple of minutes faster. Why? 

On Saturdays, the rec center opens an hour later than usual. Weird Guy came in when I was on the twelfth lap around. I knew he'd say something or reach out his hand like he often does, so I sped up so I could pass him fast. When he put out his hand, I ignored him and ran faster. I jog slowly and he walks fast, so after that I was able to keep an even distance away from him, finish the mile, and leave before he was by the exit. Whew! But thanks to him, I ended up finishing a minute or two sooner than the first time I jogged the mile. 

My new goal is to slowly increase my speed. It's nice to use the rec center track to know my distance and timing. We only have one more month on our membership. I'm not renewing the pass. In a month or less, I'll start running outside. Meanwhile, I'll keep going to the rec center as early as I can. I really do prefer to have the track all to myself.