Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
— Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
“I’m not a gym person.”
This is a declaration I have made often, and for the last 15 years or so, I’ve believed it and lived it. For as long as I have been a regular exerciser, I have been a runner who runs outdoors. I relish the bite of winter on my cheeks in January and summer’s humidity pressing heavy against my limbs in June. I love to glimpse what’s blooming as I run past – from the first hardy crocus pushing through the snow in early spring to the last of the goldenrod and purple aster in late fall.
Recently, though, sidelined by a chronic injury, I decided to accompany Brad to the Y to experiment with the elliptical machine. Much to my surprise, I enjoyed it – not so much the elliptical (which is frightfully boring), but rather, the whole gym “experience.” The camaraderie of exercising silently side-by-side with strangers before the sun has risen. The smooth vinyl under my body as I stretch on the blue mat and catch my breath. Watching people of every shape, age and size running, walking, pushing, pulling, lifting and climbing – striving toward whatever goal they’ve set for themselves that morning.
Turns out, I am a gym person after all.
“Those who attempt to work too long with a formula, even their own formula, eventually leach themselves of their creative truths,” writes Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way. Cameron is referring specifically to the writing process, but I think a similar statement can be made about our own selves.
I am a creature of habit who thrives within routine and structure. This explains why I have run the exact same route three to four times a week for the past 18 years. It explains why I have eaten the same mid-morning snack (16 almonds) at the same time (10 a.m.) every day for the past 10 years. I could give you a dozen such examples. Suffice to say, routine is my default mode.
Routines can be healthy and good, to be sure, and the truth is, I feel most safe, secure and confident when I am clicking along within my familiar routines. But I’m also learning that this kind of contained living can, over time, inhibit growth and lead to stagnation. Ultimately, being too wedded to our structures, routines and habits – to our “formula,” as Cameron calls it – will suffocate our soul.
Recently my son Noah and I explored a new-to-us local greenhouse, and while we were there, wending our way between stately candelabra cactus and lush fiddle leaf figs, I felt an inexplicable desire to buy a plant.
I have a handful of houseplants positioned in various sunny spots around my sunroom, but I’ve never considered myself “a plant person.” Suddenly, though, immersed in all that fecund green, breathing in the rich, humid scent of new growth, I knew something new about myself. The realization was like the sharp chime of a church bell reverberating across an Italian piazza: I love plants. Plants make me happy. I want a life with more plants.
So I bought a philodendron and a white pot, transplanted it on the driveway when I got home, and placed it on top of a bookcase near my desk in the sunroom.
“There’s something enlivening about expanding our self-definition,” acknowledges Cameron, “and a risk does exactly that.”
True, going to the gym or buying a philodendron are hardly big risky endeavors, but at the same time, I believe there is something important and telling even in these small steps. Any step outside the boundaries by which we have defined ourselves is a step into newness, and stepping into newness, no matter how seemingly small or inconsequential, is always a risk.
But it’s in these smallest of steps, these smallest of risks, that we begin to recognize and embrace the multitudes contained within us. When we allow ourselves to open to these small moments of knowing, we unclasp something deep within us, which in turn opens the way to living more fully and wholly as our true selves.
Turns out, I’m a gym person. Turns out, I’m a plant person, too. I contain multitudes.
And so do you.
I love that phrase, “I contain multitudes,” Michelle. There are so many facets of our lives yet to be uncovered and discovered. As much as I love my own routines, I’m inspired by your words here to look for new ways to grow.
Blessings!
Michelle, I love that you talk about ordinary everyday things that we all think about and deal with. The houseplant splurge – love it. Thank you for continuing to share from your heart. You have important things to say and we, your readers, are listening! Blessings to you.
Michelle – oh I love your thinking and your writing. This idea is so beautiful. I smiled at the vast array of differences between us – as a 7 – the thought of the same snack at the same time every day for 10 years makes me cringe with what to me seems so monotonous- to you it is safety and joy and peace. Like you, I am learning afresh to delight in thinking of all the new things I can do and explore, and become and call forth from within my heart and soul! Here is to routine and yet spontaneity and new discovery – both/and. And thanks to you dear friend I am pressing into finding a new rhythm of exercise. This week I made it to the gym early again and then 2 more times not so early.
I love this idea of containing multitudes. I know I have found a new morning walking multitude in me. It’s the early morning part, not the walking. LOL
I’m with you – I love plants around the house. To me a house is not a home – without plants and books. You may like this story – about a woman saved by a connection she made through an Orchid:
Nathalie Birli, an Austrian professional cyclist was kidnapped, head dipped 3 x in cold water, beaten – with a head injury, fractured lower arm. Noticed an Orchid amongst the gloomy, chaotic, grimy room. Started talking to kidnapper about it which led to further discussions about his background, the grandparents whose home he inherited, his Mother an alcoholic, the cats he used to have that were taken away. Noted what he needed most was to be able to make friends, then to be assured he could get out of this situation with the least harm. Then told him she had a baby she wanted to see again – and how he wouldn’t want to deprive her son of growing up without a Mother. How would he have felt to grow up without his Mother. He drove her back home eventually.