The Church of Love, and the Delicate Balance of Life

I have spent the morning crying on my couch. Sobbing. Why, you ask?  Because for the first time in my life, I just witnessed death.  I saw the life flow out of a living, breathing thing, right before my very eyes. A bird flew into my window, and broke its neck.  I heard the loud thump, then went out to see what happened.  I watched as the poor thing started to gasp for air.  It was tense, and in visible pain.  Then I saw its legs just relax.  The life literally poured out of him. I was taken aback.  I felt the most intense emotion welling up in me. Just watching the whole thing occur, I was overcome.  I was inundated with sadness. The bird's life was over.  Never again would it fly with the sunshine on its wings. It just seemed so, lifeless. So sad. Then a wave of "business mode" set in.  I had to take care of this.  I had to dispose of him. I didn't want my daughter to know about it, because why make her sad when she doesn't need to be. So, I pulled myself together, found a little box, picked up the poor lifeless soul, and placed him in.  The bird had blood coming from its beak.  It made my stomach drop.  Life is just so fragile.  So fragile.  I walked out behind my house.  I knew I had to get it out in the woods a bit, so there wasn't just a dead bird in my yard. Then I looked at my compost pile.  I decided to put it near that. I don't really know why I did, it was just far enough from the house, I suppose. Then I thought to myself, as I placed the freshly made earth over him, that it was life that brought him into this world, and it was a compost pile, a recycling of life that he will end it in. It seemed so symbiotic.  So full-circle. Then I looked around and I noticed the world around me.  It was so full of life. I decided that even though one life ended, there was so much life to celebrate.  Carpe diem.  I recalled a quote from my favorite poet, Rumi.

"Do not grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form."

 Rumi


I sat there with my feet on the leaves and dirt, and just had a moment.  I thought "I should say a prayer or something".  Then I realized, I'm really not a very religious person.  I believe in spirituality, but I feel like it's something that is so personalized. It's really different for everyone. What is spiritual for me, might not be for another person.  All I knew is I wanted to do something for this bird.  So I looked up, and I just "sent" the bird my love.  I believe in the power of emotion. I believe that the heart and soul is my religion. Love, is my religion. The Beatles said it right when they said, "All you need is love". I thoroughly agree. I feel if you have love in your heart, and if you feel love for others in this world, than you are truly blessed.

Who knew I could learn so much from a bird? I've decided that birds have become an important part of my life.  The connection I have with the Phoenix, the angry bird, this bird, my daughter's affection for birds...it's all connected.  They seem to be teaching me many lessons in life.  Ones that I will carry with me, for the rest of my days.

The angry bird and the cycle of misery.

For the last day and a half, I've been observing the birds outside at my feeders.  Other than the increase of cardinals I've had recently, (which makes me really happy, I love cardinals. ) things have been pretty normal.  Happy little chickadees, quiet little sparrows, even the occasional raid by a stray chipmunk or two.  However, yesterday, I made an observation that provoked some serious thought. There was a good size, very nondescript, brown bird out there.  My daughter and I decided to call it, the "angry bird", because he wouldn't stop chirping loudly at the other birds.  He was aggressive, confrontational, and just seemed to be generally pissed off at the whole bird world.  A little sparrow would simply fly up to the feeder for a little snack, and this bird would chirp loudly with a wide open mouth, non-stop. He would even fly up there and lock beaks with some of the birds eating.  It was almost like he was unwilling to share the seed with other birds.  Thing is, he wasn't eating the seed either.  It was like he was saying, "well, I'm not getting any, so I'm going to make it impossible and miserable for those who can."  And this bird was fearless too. I'd try to shoo him and his bad vibes away, but he would just look at me, as though he was saying " you can flap your arms at me all you want lady, but I ain't movin."  It's like he was just purposely sticking around to make everyone miserable.  Then I observed the other birds around him.  The normally sweet, quiet sparrows had started to fight over seed.  They were chirping loudly at each other in an angry, aggressive manner.  It's like, it was catching.  The bird had successfully brought a boatload of bad vibes to my feeders.  Now, I like to think I gave angry bird the benefit of the doubt.  I looked around to see if there was a nest he was defending or something.  Nothing. He was just a downright, miserable, angry bird.

So I started to really think about it.  I thought of the other birds, and how they were influenced by one angry bird.  I decided that what was occurring with the birds, is sort of parallel to how humans behave as well.  Say someone's having a really bad day.  They are stressed, miserable, and difficult to be around.  When we encounter a person like that, we are faced with a subconscious decision. We can go the easy route, and let that person rub off on us.  We can let the misery overtake us as well, just as the birds were doing.  OR, we can take the more difficult route.  We can see that the person is suffering inside, and instead of continuing the vicious cycle of misery, we can stop the cycle.  We can offer kindness and love to these people.  One of the most respected Zen masters, poet and peace activist Thich Nhat Hanh, has inspired this thinking in me.  One of my favorite passages by him reads:


"When another person makes you suffer, it is because he suffers deeply within himself, and his suffering is spilling over. He does not need punishment; he needs help. That's the message he is sending." 
— Thich Nhat Hanh


I think the angry bird was suffering.  I stopped shooing him away.  I thought, I wish I could help this bird.  I wish I could do something to help this bird's spirit.  I still am befuddled by how I could help him, so I'm still sort of working on that.  However, what I CAN do, is focus on how I can help those people in my life whose spirit is suffering as well. I can understand that they sometimes need to vent their suffering.  I can treat them with compassion instead of angst.  I can break the cycle of misery, and perhaps start a whole new cycle of good will. I've found that not only are negative thoughts contagious, but positive thoughts are as well. Why not start something good, rather than carry on the bad? Pay it forward, or so to speak.

I have a challenge for you. Try it out for just ONE day.  Here's the challenge:  Try to smile at everyone you see as you walk down the street.  I bet you'll be pleasantly surprised at the results.

This is just one of the ways I'm trying to better my life. I hope that by sharing my story and philosophies, that perhaps, just maybe....I've succeeded in starting a new positive cycle.

Running Through the Wall

It's time I talk about running.  I used to think there were two types of people in this world. Those who run for sport, and those who run, only if being chased.  For about 85% of my life, I was the latter.  Running just wasn't my thing.  It was something my dad did. It was his hobby, his livelihood. I just, didn't do that. Then, in my 20's, I started to really gain weight. We lived up in Calais, Maine, and there was absolutely nothing to do. I did nothing but sit around, eat, and get depressed.  So needless to say, I was large. Very large. I did try to do something about it, though.  I decided to try walking/running.  Thing is, whenever it got hard, I would just stop. Give up.  I'd tell myself I'm not a good runner. Then I'd go home and eat pizza and drink beer. Talk about a flawed system.

So, after the birth of my daughter, I got heavy, and really unhealthy again. This time, I really wanted to run. I asked my folks if they would let us use the treadmill/clothes hanger that they weren't using. At first, they hemmed and hawed a bit, but begrudgingly, they brought it up here for us to use.  I started out slowly walking. At first, I went 2 miles. Every time. Then Brennan told me that the distance on that treadmill was way off, and I was walking less than I thought.  I felt sort of guilty. Like I was being a "wuss". So, I started to walk a bit, then run a bit. Walk, run, walk, run.  I felt better, and the weight had started to come off a little. Instead of getting discouraged, and thinking that it wasn't fast enough, I just got inspired. SOMETHING was working. So I kept it up, and shortened my distance. I'd go for 30 minutes, but really slow.  As the days went on, it got easier, and easier, and I was actually jogging.

It came time for me to move it outside. The first time I ran out in the real world, I went close to 2 miles on the bike path near my parents house. It was just so hard. The road is a lot more unforgiving than a bouncy treadmill, so my legs were incredibly sore. To put it bluntly, it really sucked.  Then I got home and saw the beaming look on my dad's face. He seemed so excited that his little girl had just gone for a run. I've always been a "daddy's girl", and to please my father is motivation enough. So, I kept it up. Next thing you know, I was running a 5k distance.  More motivation. I felt like I was really on top of things, so Brennan and I decided to sign up for a real race.  A 10k (6.2 miles). That, to me, seemed like an impossible task. I'd never run that far in my entire life.  But, it was a goal.  It was something to look forward to, and show my self worth.  So, despite how hard it was, I trained for it.  After my first 4 miler, I was so tired, I just started to get mad.  Now normally, that's where I'd give up and say, "Screw this.  I just can't do it. It's too hard."   But something inside me decided to channel the anger. This is where the most pivotal moment in my running career happened.  I broke through a "wall". I would just say to myself, "Run harder Kristi. Make it all go away. Run. Run harder."   So I did.  Suddenly, it wasn't as hard. I was just...running.  It felt amazing. I was DOING it.  So after finishing my first race, the feeling of accomplishment was strong in me. I wanted more. I was addicted.  So we kept it up. We just kept running. It was, a healthful hobby I guess.

Then I realized running was where I was doing most of my "thinking". It was almost cathartic for me.  2010 was a very difficult year for me.  I swear to this day, one of the things that helped me live through it, was running. When my sister first told me she had cancer, I didn't know what to think. My brain started running around like crazy, so I just said to myself.  "Go out and run."  So I ran and ran and ran, and I cried and cried and cried. Running was almost like my therapy. I ran when I found out my Nana was dying. I ran when Brennan and I were fighting. I ran for everything.  Then I decided that I was going to run a half marathon.  It seemed ridiculous, but I was going to give it my best shot.

It was very strenuous, crazy training. 7 miles, then 8, then 9, and pow...next thing ya know, I was going 11. When the time came to run 13, I rocked it. But I didn't do it just for me. It was for my sister, my father, everyone. It's hard to say what running that race meant to me.  And to have done it again, with NO training and while sick?  Well, that's another story, but I did that too.

So it comes down to this. Running has become more than just a way to lose weight for me.  It's become more than just being healthy. It's about breaking down walls. It's about determination.  It's about proving to myself that I can do this. It's about endurance. It's my life now. It's what I do.  And I've never ever been more true to myself.