When I was little, I used to like to draw. I don’t make resolutions in January, but if I did, it might be to draw more. I’ll think about that one…
No, I don’t make resolutions. But I do love making plans for myself as I go that I think will help me feel better, or allow me to have a positive impact on the people around me. I know that when I feel better, I am more equipped to do things like be loving toward my family, cook good dinners, march, or make some phone calls to government offices.
It all starts with taking care of my own heart. I’ve discovered over time that if I don’t move my body, my heart gets heavy.
And, yawn, being a parent, I’ve noticed that it’s much easier than it used to be to go for weeks without moving my body much. I mean, I lift my three-year-old #everydamnbelovedday–so that counts as strength training, right? But having some time to sweat out the stress, create balance in my muscles and bones, breath in fresh air, quiet my mind? I’d like more of that, please, and thank you. (And now they say there might be a neurological connection between your core and your stress?! (Well-timed article, The Atlantic.)) Enjoying a glass of wine on the couch at night or playing tag with Snooze in the morning often wins. But!
I started drawing up my own homemade calendar, usually showing about three months at a time, drafted without rulers or too much care. When I’m done, I stick it up on the fridge, and I write on it what I do each day to move my body. Many, many days, I write, “walk,” because sometimes that’s all I do. Some days, I write down that I did a few minutes of yoga at home. Other days still–not often anymore, but it happens–I write in that I went for an actual RUN. Somehow–I’m not quite sure what it is–drawing this calendar with my own hands and adding to it as I go just feels good. Like something I’m building for myself. And, along the lines of what I wrote about in my last post, this practice of recording movement is also often a practice in letting go. If I can’t write anything down on a particular day, that means my day was so swamped with job and life responsiblessings that I just couldn’t move my body much. That’s OK, that’s my life now–>lifting three-year-olds FTW.
Draw it up crooked, scribble hearts over the mess-ups, put a magnet on it, and call it a day. That’s it. Plenty in life is hard. This isn’t one of those things. Homemade calendar love for the soul.