For our third anniversary, my wife and I agreed to treat ourselves
to a rowing machine. The pressures of raising our twenty-one month-old son and
working at home on multiple projects made time seem even more precious to both
of us. We liked the idea of the convenience of having an exercise machine right
in our home.
For the first time in my life I decided that it was not
worth the effort to go to a gym. Unlike every other place
I had lived, where a gym was within walking distance or was
a short drive away, the closest gym was about ten miles from
our home. The twenty minute drive to and from the gym seemed
like an indulgence that I could not afford given all that
was on my plate. For the previous thirty years, working out
with weights, jogging, swimming or Tai Chi was simply part
of my life. The rowing machine would now be my primary form
of exercise.
I was surprised by how much I enjoyed
it. I didn’t
have to go anywhere to exercise, I could listen to my own
music without wearing headphones, it didn’t take a
lot of time, and I felt that I was getting a great workout.
As the months rolled by, I was amazed that I was keeping
in shape. I thought “Why isn’t everyone doing
it?” It seemed as if I had discovered the wonder exercise
of the century.
The idea of going to the gym or the pool or the tennis court
faded from my mind. I took it as a sign of my spiritual growth
that I was able to give up something that had been a staple
most of my life. I was surrendering to something greater
than myself. I gave up something that I loved doing and knew
was good for me to be of greater service to my family and
my work. Once in a while I would grumble to my wife about
not going to the gym. For the most part I hardly looked back
and was more and more content to continue with my new exercise
regime as I fulfilled my obligations.
Around November I started to notice
that my energy wasn’t
as strong as it usually was. By the time late January rolled
around I was dragging, an unusual state for me. I had decided
to treat myself for my birthday to a session with a renowned
healer in Santa Fe. My wife and son had been treated by her
with wonderful results. I had no expectations as to what
might happen and was very open to whatever she had to share
from her diagnosis.
The only thing I had to report
to her before starting the session was my feeling of fatigue
which I attributed to lack of sleep (our son has never
been a great sleeper) and overall stress. I relaxed on
the treatment table allowing my body to sink into it while
I focused on breathing from my abdomen. She placed her
hands under my head and tuned into my being. Not long after
beginning the treatment she came to what I considered a
startling conclusion. She simply stated, “Play
basketball with some guys.”
I knew that she had tuned in correctly. Almost two years
earlier my wife had counseled me to play basketball with
guys while we were living in Manhattan. I never did, because
I lacked enthusiasm for the idea itself, and I felt time
pressure with a new baby in my life. I was a fine basketball
player, yet had given up the game in my twenties to pursue
tennis and eventually Tai Chi. I had become somewhat of a
loner when it came to sports and physical fitness and was
reluctant to change that.
I asked her why it was so important
to play basketball. She said, “You need that type of movement and contact
with men.” My chest wall had become stiff. My legs
needed contact with the ground and springy movement. Sitting
on the rowing machine for a year was not the ideal exercise
I thought it to be. I asked if tennis was good. She replied, “Yes!” I
asked how about light weight lifting? She said, “It
would be great for you.”
Soon after leaving her office I
realized that I had created a prison for myself. No one
suggested that I stop doing the things that I loved. I
decided that I didn’t have the
time. I decided that my body didn’t need the kind of
movement that had sustained it (and me) in excellent shape
most of my life. I believed that I was doing the right thing
spiritually by giving these things up for a greater good.
I found myself in the gym a few
days later shooting baskets, then working out in the weight
room. It was a lie that I didn’t have the time. I
had short changed myself for a year. During that time my
ability to serve the things I cared about so much deteriorated
because I had not taken care of myself properly. It was
shocking to see how with the best of intentions, I had
created a set of beliefs that gave me the impression of
more freedom (through surrender), while the reality was
I had imprisoned myself inside those very beliefs.
Being told to play basketball was a surprise birthday present.
In addition to getting back to taking care of myself so I
can serve more fully, I was given the gift of seeing how
well-intentioned beliefs can work against me. No matter how
free I am, I now know that prison is right around the corner
waiting for me to put up the bars. I will do my best to stay
out of jail!
