Great post! Seems to me we are called to reinvent ourselves again and again while in human form. It is interesting, though, how often it takes what you have called a life-altering experience to spur us on to reinventing ourselves. I (and many readers of this blog, I suspect) would love to hear your own experiences with that, if you are willing to share them.

Over and over again, I have also had the experience of needing to just put one foot in front of the other. And I have coached many clients to do the same. At the gym, I am most inspired by those who seem to be new to the weight room and with the elders. These people are committed to putting one foot in front of the other and there is courage to it. Where the elders are concerned, some are old enough to be my parents–and I’m 59! They inspire me to keep on.

The weight room is certainly not for everyone and I’m a big fan of folks finding what works for them. Tai Chi has hundreds (or thousands) of years behind it. It’s beutiful, elegant . . . and not at all as easy as it looks! You’re right about being present and staying focused. It’s important in Tai Chi, in the weight room, and in our lives outside of both.

There will be a Part II to Life Lessons from the Weight Room and this issue of presence and focus will be a part of it, so stay tuned.

Melanie

I don’t spend much time in the weight room but have found that tai chi helps me to combine the energies of mind, body, spirit and universe. I used to get almost the same feeling running long distances on the foothill trails. You have to remain present. I guess that it is the same in the weight room. Focus, flow.

Thanks for the great post and keep workin’ those weights!

Welcome to the blog! I hope you will return and comment often. You have some wisdom to offer, brother.

And I’m going to fess up, here. If my readers will go back to my reply to Denise’s comment, they will find my admission to an incident in which I got injured because I was showing off–and then made it worse through my ignorance. That soccer friend who rushed over to treat me–and make dinner? That would be Marty. In those days, I sometimes referred to him as “coach.” (And, since Marty and I have not been in contact for a long while, he had no idea I was going to dredge up our shared past in my post.)

Marty, you are so right about the transferability of mastery from one discipline to another. What we learn in the gym, and our success there, can contribute to learnings and success in many other areas of life.

There is likely to be a Part II to Life Lessons from the Weight Room. Any suggestions? (That goes for my other readers, too.)

Melanie

I’ll also share an observation now seasoned with a quarter-century more life experience. The weight room (and/or running track, cycling path, lap pool, football pitch…your mileage may vary…literally!) also has the potential for teaching wonderful lessons in both letting go, and in reinventing oneself.

The “letting go” part may seem obvious; as the effects of time, gravity, and the sins of our youth combine, those of us who have been lifelong athletes are confronted with the need to change our training or risk losing that piece of our life entirely. This provides wonderful opportunities to embrace new challenges…to experience the joy of novelty and learning..and to revel in new achievements. The adoption of the “beginner’s mind” as Melanie described, is crucial to allowing that growth to take place.

The life lesson of the weight room as path to reinvention may not be as obvious, but even as one faces new challenges (in other arenas of life), the process of transformation from neophyte to a higher level of proficiency learned from sports/training provides an excellent foundation for success elsewhere. The specific discipline may be different, but the overall formula doesn’t vary all that much (with the added benefits of near-immediate positive feedback from the gym!).

A disclosure here: I enjoyed the privilege, many years ago, of accompanying Melanie as she ran, and bore witness to some of her early exploration into weight training. Reading this post was a sheer delight, enjoying both things remembered and celebrating her wit, wisdom, and warrior’s passion today.

How I reached my present point in life might require a book! But I will return to an earlier statement: I’m just a pilgrim going down the road. I will say that, for me, the magic that led to my becoming apprenticed to a shaman, the work that I did (on myself) in that apprenticeship, and my work as a shaman (after completing the apprenticeship) have been critical pieces in my personal development (such as it is).

Not everyone is called to be a shaman and I wouldn’t wish that life on anyone not meant to be one because it is not an easy road. It has been a part of my path. I believe that we each have a path that is beautiful and unique. It will find us if we just stand still long enough to let it do so.

Don’t be angry about my experience at the train station in Rome! It was a very helpful experience as it validated for me that I was, indeed, willing to be in beginner’s mind whilst in Italy. Very useful validation!

Keep showing up, Chiara!

Walk in Beauty
Melanie

PS. Your story about that Italian makes me a little angry, ’cause I can’t stand my fellow conuntrypeople who behave that way with strangers. That’s not fair and not good, first of all for ourselves and our image in the world!

Thank you so much! I hope you noticed the story in my reply to Patrice about being a complete fool in the Rome train station. I love Italy–at least what I have seen of it. I’m going to visit your site, whether or not I can make sense of much, just for a dose of Italy.

Melanie

You have added another dimension to showing up. In fact, it could be another item that combines showing up with trust, being in the present moment, and risk taking.

Structure is a good thing and I certainly will not argue for complete chaos. But if our goals and priorities, plans and promises become so inflexibly structured that they become part of that cocoon some Buddhists refer to (similar, in my mind, to ego boundaries that are so shored up, they have become dysfunctional), then the antidote (the medicine) is exactly as your meditation teacher would suggest: just do the next thing.

Even for those of us who have not been hiding out in that suffocating cocoon (I’d like to think that you and I, Gail, are among those who haven’t been living with the blinds closed, the doors locked, stuffed in too small a world), it can be very useful to loosen up our lives a bit.

Of course, some of the readers here don’t know that you are the hip hop Gail I referred to in my reply to Patrice. The jig is up. They now know. So they can assume that you, at least, are practicing the art of opening doors and windows in your psyche and life.

As for me, the reminder you provide is very helpful. The life of a writer, editor, and shaman can make me just a bit too closed in at times. Thanks for the reminder. I suspect I’m not alone in appreciating it.

Melanie