What Counts?

Tainan, Taiwan

On January 15 this year I posted about a new habit I had committed to establishing:

1. Upon waking, get sunlight for at least several minutes before getting on any screen
2. Delay caffeine intake for at least 45 minutes after waking

I also committed to writing Morning Pages (3 pages, long hand, stream of consciousness journaling) in those first 15-30 minutes, which was actually the primary goal. The point of the practice is to unlock clarity and creativity in those first minutes of waking, when the door between conscious and subconscious awareness and insight is more open than at other times of day. Today was Day 310 total (I miss a few days a month, on average). But it was delayed, so did it count?

I do three high intensity workouts at Ethos every week. It gets harder to motivate to do things at home anymore, and yesterday I felt sheepishly happy to Iog 20 minutes of moderate effort on the elliptical. That counts as exercise, in my opinion. But what if I had only walked to the grocery store and back (which I also did)? What intensity and duration justifies that green dot on my habit tracker?

What counts as meditation, prayer, or ‘low carb’?

Why does it matter?

How many times a day do we encounter one recommendation or another for how many steps we should take, how much protein to eat, what school of meditation is best, what sleep routines to adopt, and how many people we need in our inner circle? If we wanted to follow all of the ‘experts” advice for health, just reading the recommendations and attempting to execute would be a full time job.

Of course I get to decide what counts as Morning Pages or exercise or not, because I am only accountable to myself for the habits and behaviors that uphold my own health. In the end it’s about goals, trade-offs, and results. Why do I do these things? What am I trying to accomplish? What am I willing and not willing to do for the desired outcomes?

What works for me, regardless of what ‘experts’ say and ‘studies show’?

Morning pages make my day better whether I have looked out the window or at my phone beforehand, though the insights may come a bit easier with the former, because I always spend more time on the phone than I intend. But it still usually takes at least a page and a half before novel ideas and epiphanies emerge. Regardless, I feel calmer and centered having journaled at all before the day starts in earnest.

Moving in any way for any amount of time benefits both mind and body, and I can both feel and see consequences of variations in frequency, duration, and intensity over days, weeks, and months. If I move above and beyond activities of daily living and work, then I count it, track it, and review over time to correlate with how I feel.

I see people getting fixated on ‘what counts’. Our culture of metrics, trackers, comparison, and competition foster this tendency toward obsessiveness. It’s too easy today to lose the forest for the trees, and much too easy to forget that the complex global ecosystem of a whole person’s health is synergistic in multiple simultaneous dimensions rather than simple or linear in any way. Whenever we hear anyone say, ‘just do (xxx), and it will fix (some global problem that nobody has yet to solve because there is simply no one right solution),’ we should approach with high skepticism and alert critical thinking.

If it aligns with my commitments and gives me a sense of progress toward my goals, then I say it counts. Tracking helps me see patterns, intersections, and correlates. It makes me more self-aware in real time, holds me accountable, and gives me a little dopamine hit with each green dot logged. Counting can be its own reward.

In the end, however, it’s the being and the doing that matter. So count it or not, I get to choose. The rewards of action and results outweigh those of counting. I think it’s good once in a while to consider more deeply the basic questions like, “What counts?” It keeps me honest.

Holding On

Friends, it’s late. It’s Son’s last night at home for break, so we watched movies.
It was glorious.

How was this November for us all? Intense, thick, and full of emotion, I’d say.
Tonight I feel fulfilled and connected, for which I am truly grateful.
Thank you to all who have followed along these thirty days, this tenth year.
Not sure if I will do this again; I have eleven months to decide.
What did we Hold this NaBlo? Let’s review:

  1. Wholeness
  2. Regret
  3. Fear
  4. Fortitude
  5. Gentleness
  6. Space
  7. the Energies
  8. the Work
  9. Awareness
  10. What Helps
  11. Stories of Humanity
  12. Connection
  13. Patience
  14. Presence
  15. Resonance
  16. Polarity
  17. Allyship
  18. Perspective
  19. Understanding
  20. Love
  21. the Activist Heart
  22. the Questions
  23. Honesty
  24. Courage
  25. Strengths
  26. Accountability
  27. Rest
  28. Appreciation
  29. Belonging

I will reread these posts and the intention that initiated them in the coming days and weeks. It felt relevant to write about all of these practices–because looking back, most of them really are practices, not just ideas–with regard to the election and political discourse this month, this year. Yet each post applies to all relationships and all communication.
I intend to continue reflecting, sharing, learning, growing, and connecting.

This holiday season, let us slow down, de-escalate, and focus on the things that matter most. Let us find non-adversarial, respectful, and equanimitous approaches to disagreement, conflict, and collaboration across difference. Let us breathe deeply. Let us make more generous assumptions, speak more humbly, and withhold closure and judgment just a little longer. May open and honest curiosity lead us more than prejudice and bias.

I feel an urgent need to advance and elect people who model these skills exponentially better than those in office today. That is a big lift; I still vacillate between optimism and cynicism for this dream, and for human relationships in general sometimes. Still, we cannot know unless we try. The path remains long and tortuous, so we must help one another train for the journey. The work will outlive me, and likely anyone who reads these words. So Train, Recover, and Connect as my friends at Ethos say–we must stay fit to persist.

The only way out is through; the best way through is together. One breath at a time.

I Hold On for Us tonight and hereafter, my friends. Hold on to our friendships, our loyalties, our connections, our integrity, and our commitments to one another. Let go meanness, petty gibes, ad hominem, and ugliness in general. Hold on to decency, generosity, humility, compassion, and hope.

Onward, friends. One. breath. at a time.

Holding Perspective

What is your relationship with buses?

The pick up truck in front of me let a city bus into traffic the other day. I was already in a great mood, driving to Ethos, excited to see my friends and move my body. That this big white monster truck did not try to compete with the bigger white striped monster bus somehow gave me hope for humanity.

More and more drivers flout traffic law these days–do you notice? It’s the same way I see passengers ignoring the fastened seat belt sign on planes. We just don’t care about rules anymore? Or each other? I see it as discourteous, self-absorbed, and generally rude. It makes me annoyed and angry, then sad. I try not to let it poison my attitude toward humans in general. The man who stands up during the plane’s ascent to rummage through the overhead bin is the same man who offers to help me get my carry-on down when we land (which I politely decline because I go to Ethos, thank you very much!). What is up with us lately?

This clear, crisp morning heading westbound on Belmont, a pleasant surprise of vehicular civility made me think. How often do I let buses into traffic in front of me? Not as often as I’d like to declare. Why is that? I generally drive peacefully: I leave two to three seconds between myself and the car in front of me. If you signal, I will absolutely slow down and let you into my lane. If you let me in, I will wait until I can see you in my rearview mirror and wave enthusiastically. I make eye contact with pedestrians and gesture to them to cross in front of me. But with buses, I intentionally speed up to get in front before they cut me off. Huh.

Is it tit for tat? Bus drivers can be pretty aggressive, I have to say. And they almost never wave back, even if eye contact is made. I never realized before that morning how adversarial I feel toward them. Whoa. I wonder if they get this from all of us car drivers?

I took the bus all the time as a student. I spent an hour and a half by train, train, and buuuuus to visit Hubs when he started med school a year before me. The trade off at rush hour was that there were more buses to catch, and also more buses and cars on the road in traffic; no time of day was faster. I controlled nothing; it was a practice in patience and relinquishing agency in a lot of ways.

This perspective came rushing over me all at once as I rolled through the intersection behind the pick up truck, behind the bus, so leisurely, listening to my favorite music in my SUV, all warm and cozy, water bottle at my side. If I encountered an accident or needed to stop for something, I could change my route ad lib. I had at least partial control of my time, my path, and my choices. Not so the people on the bus. They were captive unless they got off, and then they’d have to pay more in time, money, and hassle to change buses, routes, or mode of transport.

My perspective broadened suddenly and unexpectedly: I am not just in relationship with the bus driver(s). I’m in relationship with everybody on a given bus–the people who don’t get to pick their seat, if they get to sit at all; the people who had to get up that much earlier, leave their families, to allow for the extra time on public transit; the people who may not get enough sleep or have time to exercise because their commute takes so long.

Bus drivers are road advocates for their passengers–asserting themselves and their charges into the morass of the rude rest of us–getting their people where they need to go. They have a schedule to fulfill, navigating tight turns and oblivious drivers looking at our phones, ignoring stop signs, and running red lights. I wonder how they think of themselves? I will think of them this way from now on, and give them the space and deference to ferry their passengers with one less obstacle in their way. I’ll wave and smile more, too.

I Hold Perspective for Us, friends. It opens our minds to new points of view, to learning, to insight and epiphany–to connection. It lightens the burden of competition and scarcity. It protects us against mutual isolation and social disintegration.
Where could you benefit from some new perspective this week?