It has been a long time between posts and not for lack of things to share. I have been ruminating extensively over the role of writing in my life. Its function and demands. Journalling is something I have always done, though to varying degrees of intensity, and blogging was more survival technique than habit when I travelled through India and parts of Europe in 2008. After that, my desire to describe my life in psuedo-metaphysical language gradually tapered off. When I came back to India is 2012, I was optimistic that new surroundings would provide new inspiration. And inspire it did, but not in the ways I anticipated.
Ask the musician Scott Walker what he has been doing in the lengthy periods between recordings and he will answer simply: "I have lived". And perhaps that is as specific as one needs to be. The process of decision making is an odd one, and I rarely understand why I do anything. But when I look back at the story of my life, everything seems to fit together. Even those moments when I really thought I was making a mess of it, retroactively turn into glistening sign posts that marked the way. Anxiety and fear can overwhelm and consume us as we negotiate the schisms between who we are, what we feel and where we think we should be. But even though I might have been tearing myself apart in side, there are few regrets that I carry with me. As one of Tolstoy's charismatic protagonists reflects in War and Peace, "I have lived well, but thought badly." And in similar moments of romantic solitude, one might almost feel the influence of some spiritual navigation system. A voice deep within, whispering directions as we stagger blind among the scattered debris. Call it intuition, spider senses or simply "the heart" - retrospectively, we can convince ourselves that all the time we were being tossed this way and that on confusing tides of consciousness, we unconsciously knew exactly where we were going.
And, if I am honest about it, most of the big changes in my life have required very little conscious thought. They seemed to emerge suddenly and without effort, and always at the right time.
For example, ask me a month ago what I was planning to do this year and I would have told you a story about a 30 something male who has spent over two years living in Bangalore and now feels it is time to start preparing for the next adventure. The next place. Somewhere new and abundant with possibilities. Funny how things change so suddenly. I am now thinking about staying for another two to three years, completing my masters in education, and immersing myself in the local fitness scene. And none of this would have made any sense (and perhaps still doesn't) until two weeks ago when I first walked in to a CrossFit Box in Indra Nagar.
The slow road...
Those who have known me a long time may recall that as a child I was one of the least physically gifted students in my school. Awkward and uncoordinated, my enforced participation in team sports was routinely preceded by the crushing experience of being chosen dead last by whichever team captain drew the shorter straw. In a combined class of almost sixty students, this public display of sporting/social status was a slow and tedious process that brought ones' willingness to participate into bleak alignment with a quietly deteriorating belief in ones' ability. The result: I hated sport.
And I still don't especially like sport. Or sporting culture for that matter. But I am hopelessly obsessed with exercise, and have been a serial monogamist with different physical disciplines since my late teens. Weight lifting, basketball, juggling, fire twirling, acrobatics, trapeze, physical theatre, dance, yoga, etc. I even trained as a massage therapist way back when I first graduated from high school. One can conclude that he has a certain, almost spiritual fascination with movement and the body. And this fascination has now settled into regular attendance as a CrossFit gym (or "box") in Bangalore. I was doing my own version of CrossFit for the last nine months at a regular gym in Frazer Town. But since moving to a certified venue with certified trainers, where I am participating in structured (near ritualisitic) workouts with like minded devotees, my life has changed. Dramatically.
There is a popular adage, parodying the initiations in David Fincher's Fight Club, doing the rounds on fitness related social networks: "The first rule of CrossFit, never shut up about CrossFit." Similarly, an image of a woman crumbling in what appears to be a nervous breakdown laments: "Accidentally asked a CrossFit person about CrossFit. Lost 45 minutes of my day." I have seen the eye rolls that CrossFit discussion inspires in those with no personal connection to the activity, and so have done my best to remain mute about it when in social settings. But these amusing memes seem to reflect a certain hostility towards the form. And, perhaps understandably, the rise of CrossFit has triggered a lot of critical debate about the sport's pros and cons. Indeed, many remain reluctant to acknowledge it as a sport at all. But, say what you will, CrossFit has tapped into philosophies and behaviours in a creative way that strongly appeals to and reflects the values of the current Western Zeitgeist.
However, I have no desire to enter into the various debates that surround CrossFit here. Let's leave that for the fitness journalists, sports critics and exercise ambassadors. What I can say with certainty is that I have felt a profound sense of peace since I started participating in this multi-facted, dynamic and extremely intense form of exercise. It is a peace that has eluded me for many years, and I have only known momentarily and in specific contexts. I felt it while trekking in Nepal, and I have had glimpses of it while attending butoh dance classes or when on stage with Chotto Matte. But this calm in exertion is a slippery fish, and has never lasted very long. When it happens, I feel like I am present and love can flow through me. Whatever that means.
But it seems oxymoronic to suggest that a discipline that is so demanding, so overwhelming, so all consuming in its moment of action, can induce a profound sort of inner tranquility. Take a look at the images of army personnel pasted all over the Cross Fit website (www.crossfit.com), or consider the "go hard or go home" attitude that has become synonymous with the method, and inner peace may sound like an unlikely bi-product. But, oddly enough, this is what I have found. An almost spiritual connection with "the moment" through the performance of extreme physical exertion. Actually... to me that makes perfect sense.
In Waking Up, Sam Harris observes:
Most of us spend our time seeking happiness and security without acknowledging the underlying purpose of our search. Each of us is looking for a path back to the present: We are trying to find good enough reasons to be satisfied now.
Ask the musician Scott Walker what he has been doing in the lengthy periods between recordings and he will answer simply: "I have lived". And perhaps that is as specific as one needs to be. The process of decision making is an odd one, and I rarely understand why I do anything. But when I look back at the story of my life, everything seems to fit together. Even those moments when I really thought I was making a mess of it, retroactively turn into glistening sign posts that marked the way. Anxiety and fear can overwhelm and consume us as we negotiate the schisms between who we are, what we feel and where we think we should be. But even though I might have been tearing myself apart in side, there are few regrets that I carry with me. As one of Tolstoy's charismatic protagonists reflects in War and Peace, "I have lived well, but thought badly." And in similar moments of romantic solitude, one might almost feel the influence of some spiritual navigation system. A voice deep within, whispering directions as we stagger blind among the scattered debris. Call it intuition, spider senses or simply "the heart" - retrospectively, we can convince ourselves that all the time we were being tossed this way and that on confusing tides of consciousness, we unconsciously knew exactly where we were going.
And, if I am honest about it, most of the big changes in my life have required very little conscious thought. They seemed to emerge suddenly and without effort, and always at the right time.
For example, ask me a month ago what I was planning to do this year and I would have told you a story about a 30 something male who has spent over two years living in Bangalore and now feels it is time to start preparing for the next adventure. The next place. Somewhere new and abundant with possibilities. Funny how things change so suddenly. I am now thinking about staying for another two to three years, completing my masters in education, and immersing myself in the local fitness scene. And none of this would have made any sense (and perhaps still doesn't) until two weeks ago when I first walked in to a CrossFit Box in Indra Nagar.
The slow road...
Those who have known me a long time may recall that as a child I was one of the least physically gifted students in my school. Awkward and uncoordinated, my enforced participation in team sports was routinely preceded by the crushing experience of being chosen dead last by whichever team captain drew the shorter straw. In a combined class of almost sixty students, this public display of sporting/social status was a slow and tedious process that brought ones' willingness to participate into bleak alignment with a quietly deteriorating belief in ones' ability. The result: I hated sport.
And I still don't especially like sport. Or sporting culture for that matter. But I am hopelessly obsessed with exercise, and have been a serial monogamist with different physical disciplines since my late teens. Weight lifting, basketball, juggling, fire twirling, acrobatics, trapeze, physical theatre, dance, yoga, etc. I even trained as a massage therapist way back when I first graduated from high school. One can conclude that he has a certain, almost spiritual fascination with movement and the body. And this fascination has now settled into regular attendance as a CrossFit gym (or "box") in Bangalore. I was doing my own version of CrossFit for the last nine months at a regular gym in Frazer Town. But since moving to a certified venue with certified trainers, where I am participating in structured (near ritualisitic) workouts with like minded devotees, my life has changed. Dramatically.
There is a popular adage, parodying the initiations in David Fincher's Fight Club, doing the rounds on fitness related social networks: "The first rule of CrossFit, never shut up about CrossFit." Similarly, an image of a woman crumbling in what appears to be a nervous breakdown laments: "Accidentally asked a CrossFit person about CrossFit. Lost 45 minutes of my day." I have seen the eye rolls that CrossFit discussion inspires in those with no personal connection to the activity, and so have done my best to remain mute about it when in social settings. But these amusing memes seem to reflect a certain hostility towards the form. And, perhaps understandably, the rise of CrossFit has triggered a lot of critical debate about the sport's pros and cons. Indeed, many remain reluctant to acknowledge it as a sport at all. But, say what you will, CrossFit has tapped into philosophies and behaviours in a creative way that strongly appeals to and reflects the values of the current Western Zeitgeist.
However, I have no desire to enter into the various debates that surround CrossFit here. Let's leave that for the fitness journalists, sports critics and exercise ambassadors. What I can say with certainty is that I have felt a profound sense of peace since I started participating in this multi-facted, dynamic and extremely intense form of exercise. It is a peace that has eluded me for many years, and I have only known momentarily and in specific contexts. I felt it while trekking in Nepal, and I have had glimpses of it while attending butoh dance classes or when on stage with Chotto Matte. But this calm in exertion is a slippery fish, and has never lasted very long. When it happens, I feel like I am present and love can flow through me. Whatever that means.
But it seems oxymoronic to suggest that a discipline that is so demanding, so overwhelming, so all consuming in its moment of action, can induce a profound sort of inner tranquility. Take a look at the images of army personnel pasted all over the Cross Fit website (www.crossfit.com), or consider the "go hard or go home" attitude that has become synonymous with the method, and inner peace may sound like an unlikely bi-product. But, oddly enough, this is what I have found. An almost spiritual connection with "the moment" through the performance of extreme physical exertion. Actually... to me that makes perfect sense.
In Waking Up, Sam Harris observes:
Most of us spend our time seeking happiness and security without acknowledging the underlying purpose of our search. Each of us is looking for a path back to the present: We are trying to find good enough reasons to be satisfied now.
Acknowledging that this is the structure of the game we are playing allows us to play it differently. How we pay attention to the present moment largely determines the character of our experience and, therefore, the quality of our lives.
For me, this echoes the belief that presence - a full and electrifying immersion in "the now" - is essential if we are to live full and authentic lives. No matter what the medium, we all seek a connection to the present moment, whether it be through art, song, writing, meditation, dance or travel. We all want to feel alive now. And perhaps the medium changes as we pass from one age to the next. I can think of no one for whom a single "something" is "everything" all the time. But for me, right now, CrossFit has become that medium. The vehicle through which I have been able to transcend fear and doubt and become completely and utterly present. Left lying on the floor, drenched in sweat, my heart thudding desperate in my ears, I forget about "I" and the self conscious stories that orbit that foggy illusion. Attending absolutely to the specifics of the workout, I feel peace and quiet. An ecstatic calm emerges that is perhaps only possible when the obstacles one faces are immediate and measurable. In this state of accelerated crisis, the luxuries of fear and anxiety fade. One must simply cope with the all out and uncompromising demands of the present.
Like I said earlier, I have been a serial monogamist with physical disciplines, and CrossFit may sooner or later become another abandoned vehicle, rusting by the roadside. But for right now, it is working for me. And, if I am to trust that this thing has emerged at the right time and that my heart or spirit or whatever has brought me here for a "reason", then I guess I should immerse myself in it fully. I have even started running CrossFit workouts at the school. We also have a blog: siscrossfit.blogspot.com. And after those sessions with my students, I feel my entire being buzzing with optimism. So, while it may have been a long time since last I published, know that I have been living and that it has been a tumultous dance through a hazardous labyrinth. But one way or another, the heart finds the way.
Take care, and thanks for reading.
2 comments:
Love your work Ben you big spunk.....Cosmic dave. xoxo
Very happy for you Ben!!! Maybe you are like Murakami and crossfit is your meditative running regime that will provide you with the necessary structure to transfer this rather Buddhist experience to other avenues of your life, especially creatively. Whatever it may be, enjoy it, my friend!
Post a Comment