Cemetery Walk

I have taken care of myself these past few weeks. It started as a lark - I joined the Biggest Loser competition at work, not feeling especially motivated. The winner after 10 weeks of dieting and exercise gets the sum of all our sign up fees. I don't expect to win - some of the young, single people are going to the gym every night. But the team effort got me thinking, and the thinking got me watching my portions and walking.

For the longest time, as I gained weight and stopped walking regularly, I simply threw up my hands. Oh well, I am a busy mother. Everyone gets fatter when they get older. If I only had more time. It feels good to hold myself accountable, and to rise to the occasion.

Still, ordering my life feels like a game of musical chairs. I walkedked every morning this week, and again on my lunch hour yesterday. But I feel one chair short of a balanced life. If Iwalk, then I spend less time with Gavin. If I walk, then I lose some morning writing time. If I walk, the house doesn't get clean.

Sometimes when I walk I fret about being one chair short. Or I plan my day. Or I envy the large houses I am passing. I am trying not to walk with a Monkey Mind. This is a term from Tom's Buddhist books, which means letting your mind race about unimportant things. It is the opposite of being in the moment.

One of my walks took me to a cemetery. If you have to be dead and buried, Riverview Cemetery in Essex is the place to go. A long, low green hill descends to the Connecticut River. In the wintertime it has a special beauty from the muted green of the hill, the tan rushes at water's edge, and the white, brown, and gray tombstones dotting the landscape.

At first I felt funny, walking briskly among so many dead. But I got a sense of benevolence and encouragement from my quiet companions. It was like they were telling me, you are still alive and you are taking care of that life. You are walking through beauty. Take it in. I let go of my Monkey Mind, stopped calculating how much I stood to gain or lose, time, weight, wealth, or otherwise. I watched an eagle lift off from a tree and soar across the river. His brown-grey majesty made me catch my breath.

I turned around and headed back to my car, silently thanking the lives that spoke to me. How good it felt to be in the moment. I want more of that.

As I typed this last sentence, I skipped an o and typed, How god it felt. Well, this is God to me. Walking on a mild winter day, watching an eagle, singing while I drive to work. I sang a childhood hymn along River Road:

For the beauty of the earth
For the beauty of the skies
For the love which from our birth
Over and around us lies...

Spring is approaching fast. Dawn is breaking as I write, and a lone bird is singing persistently, maybe to wake the others up. This morning is reserved for business: getting an emissions inspection, opening a bank account, etc, etc. But maybe I can squeeze in a walk first.

PS to my writer friends: Going to see Joyce Carol Oates speak tonight. Details to follow!