Some things stay the same

In my "practice" of running (as Buddhists might say) it's comforting to find that some things remain constant:

1. I do some of my best thinking when I'm running
2. I still hate sprint intervals (though I'm far better at them than I used to be - which isn't saying much!)
3. Consistency in training = good. Inconsistency = not good
4. I love running, but even so, sometimes it's difficult to get out the door and get started
5. Stretching is wonderful, and ought not be skimped upon
6. Running continues to teach me so much about myself, and about life.

A flash of Helsinki

Last Wednesday, I was in a bus, in downtown Dandenong. I was on my way to  hospital for some surgery (but that's another story). I looked up from my book and glanced out the window. Framed by the bus, the cloud-roofed sky, the hard grey pavement and a slash of asphalt was a corner of Dandenong Town Hall/Drum Theatre.

I had a flash of dislocation: "I'm in Helsinki!"

It passed quickly; very quickly - the odour of bus, the screech as a young mother slapped her child, my anxiety at the prospect of being anaesthetised and cut ... and the certain knowledge that Dandenong is a long, long way from Helsinki. (Melbourne readers may know what I mean.)

I've only been to Helsinki once, twelve years ago. I was there for a conference, a pit-stop in the middle of a longer holiday, and had caught a cold - so was in my motel room when not at the conference, meaning I did not see as much of the city as I'd have liked. This is the first time I've ever 'felt' myself back there, and perhaps of all the cities I've visited, I would not expect Helsinki to be one to which I'd return in this manner. However, I would very much like to visit that city again - in the flesh this time! - and in flesh which was not to be invaded by a surgeon's blade!

I wonder what hidden inner desires this experience of "being" arose from? Something to ponder as I traverse Melbourne's highways and byways today, between appointments.

Monday morning musing from an (apparent?) hippy

I can just tell that any efforts I make to organize this week are doomed to ... re-organization*, by forces beyond my control.

Already (and it is only 11am on Monday morning!) I have spent far longer than I intended in traffic, had my schedule re-arranged through appointment cancellations and rescheduling, and - amusingly - been "bullied and harrassed" for over an hour by one of my students, who has formed a fixed idea that I am a hippy.

This last amused me very much. This student's medical condition makes speech difficult; it is quite funny, being teased mercilessly while you are attempting to translate the sounds into words ... which denigrate you!

Perhaps the funniest thing about this interaction was that any objections I offered were firmly refuted. It made me wonder: am I a hippy?

How does one define "hippiness"? For this student, the fact that I love trees, was writing with a green pen, have one fingernail painted (green), was carrying a patchwork handbag and "wearing wool" (it was actually wool blend, but never mind) were all evidence enough. Further close questioning on his part uncovered my vegetarianism, the colour of my car (green) and the fact that I like cooking - all damning confirmations  in his eyes.

I suspect most of us in Gen X would have a different definition of what a hippy is.

And really, do I care? Why does the thought of being labelled a hippy cause me to wince? Those qualities I associate with hippiness - care for the earth, pacifism, open-mindedness, compassion - are all qualities I aspire to, in various ways.

Anyway, as my unpredictable week unfolds, including day surgery "sometime" on Wednesday and its associated concerns, I hope I can carry my open-mindedness and compassion along with me ... even if this does mean adopting, albeit partially, the mantle of "hippy".



* I won't say "failure"