Stop Moving and Start Doing Nothing

My orginal intention when I started swimming regularly was as part of my personal fitness campaign. Whilst there have certainly been benefits in that area, I have found that, in fact, swimming has contributed as much to my wellbeing and my ability to take time out to think and reflect.

Swimming is a great all-round physical activity but it also providers matchless opportunities for relaxation. For example, have you ever suspended yourself motionless in a vertical position? I didn't realise this was actually possible until I tried it. Obviously, you need to keep your breathing passages clear of the water! There is something quite liberating about floating motionless: it's effortless and you have a sense of weightlessness as the water supports your body.

The other floating position I adopt is to just float horizontally with subtle movement of hands and feet to keep my body still and on the surface of the water. This, too, is a liberating experience.

I contemplated whilst undergoing one of these floating episodes that life could really benefit from a few regular pauses for stillness. We fill our lives with activity, be it family, work, social or otherwise. But do we give ourselves time and space to just stop and reflect? If not, why not? Does the idea scare us? Does it feel unnatural? Do we wonder what we would do?

One of the beauties of real friendship is the ability to actually be in the company of a friend and not feel compelled to say or do anything: just experiencing the enjoyment of each other's company. However, I suspect that even this is a rare experience for most people.

Our bodies need rest and relaxation. Yes, sleep, too. But rest and relaxation whilst awake is something that many of us deny ourselves. I don't even mean relaxing in front of the TV. I mean relaxation without any form of stimulus: the ability to say and do nothing.

I don't believe for a minute that our bodies were meant to be busy all of the time. I do believe that doing nothing is an investment - that giving ourselves a proper break actually benefits the times when we are busy. However, we have breakfast on the go - or not at all, a working lunch (if we're lucky) and dinner sometime at the end of the day but that, too, could be compromised.

How about:

a) getting up a little earlier and sitting down for a quiet, unrushed breakfast?

b) stopping for even just a short while in the middle of the day to sit down for a proper lunch?

c) making time to have an evening meal with someone important in our life at the end of the day?

d) taking time out to sit with a friend from time to time to enjoy a few idyllic moments together?

e) taking a swim and spending some of that just floating and enjoying the sensation of suspense?

I have had to make myself do some of these and I'm glad I'm doing it. I feel better for stopping and I especially feel better for doing nothing at times.


If you take time out, how do you achieve it? What works for you?

If you know you need to stop moving and start doing nothing, how are you going to make sure this happens?

Please feel free to comment.

Live for the purpose – not the performance.

Life is not a dress rehearsal.

(Anon)

Swimming is rarely a performance art.

It occurred to me whilst coursing (at my tediously slow pace) up and down our local pool the other night, that no one in the pool was engaged in a performance: there were plenty of swimmers - all, I guess, with a range of reasons for having got into the pool.

For my part, it is an attempt, at just a few years from 50, to keep trim. For others, it was a training exercise: be it an adult swimming lesson for those wishing to advance their skills - or a class of children at the early stages of developing this life skill. Still others came purely for the pleasure: a young couple spending time together, a pair of friends having a conversation whilst relaxing in the environs of the pool, a parent and child having a splash.

But no one was there to impress anyone else - or, if they were, they weren't succeeding because, quite frankly, no one is that much bothered about who else they are sharing the water with.

They're all there living the experience and, on the most part, enjoying it.

But how many people really live their lives like that?

I get slightly worried when I come across an individual whose life seems to be a performance - as if to bring attention to themselves - almost as if they have to justify their existence. I am not a psychologist but I would almost put this down to a personality disorder and suggest the individual in question seek professional help.

Life is not a performance! If it was, most of would cave in with the exhaustion of putting on the act. I am so grateful to friends who accept me as I am and allow me to be just me: that does mean, however, that, when I am feeling particularly relaxed in such company, my conversation or even behaviour might not be as intelligent as I might reserve for polite company. A recent example would be an evening I shared with a long-standing university friend: we ate, drank and shared jokes and stories - the laughter was unrestrained and the feeling enormously comfortable - in the middle of a Wetherspoons bar. We were not performing and, for that reason, not concerned about what anyone else might think of the joviality we shared. We were there for a purpose.

Live for the purpose not the performance.

You don’t have to justify yourself or excuse yourself. You don’t have to compare yourself or deny yourself. You just have to be yourself – living on purpose.

A few swimmers in the pool may well be preparing for a performance - a gala competition, a skills demonstration, an endurance test - but the preparation is just that: it’s preparation, in much the same way that life involves preparation for the occasional performance. The performance itself is brief and exhausting – we’re not designed to be constantly performing: we haven’t got that much adrenaline in reserve for a start. Instead, there are the bread-and-butter routines of life that get us up in the morning and even keep us awake at night. They are the purpose in our living.

Last night, I watched a TED video of Rick Warren, the writer of ‘The Purpose-Driven Life’. Rick says a lot in a few words and very much of what he says is quotable. I was particularly struck by something he said that aligned itself with what I had been mulling over whilst floating in the pool:

‘Life is not about looking good, feeling good or having the goods,

but about being good and doing good.’

Living FOR the purpose involves living ON purpose: you have a purpose in life and it’s not a performance. Rick also talks about having a ‘world view’: how you interpret the world and what your response is to it. Each of has a responsibility to live out our purpose and to make the most of what we have been given.

Someone, somewhere, quipped, ‘Life is not a dress rehearsal.’ It’s neither the dress rehearsal nor the performance: it’s the messy dressing room and the backstage clutter and the technical glitches. That’s the reality that those who are intent on performing forget.

What are you doing with what you’ve been given?

How do you know if you are living on purpose FOR a purpose?

Or do you feel that life is a performance and you’re weary with putting on an act?

Please feel free to leave your comments.

Phil 

Just Dive In

When did you last wish that you were able to do something - but then did nothing about it? What prevented you? Fear? Lack of confidence? Lack of courage?

Faced with such a situation, how would you have completed the following statements?

'I want to...  but...'

'I wish I could...'

'If only...'

'I would if...'

'But what if...'

What if you always replaced the above with 'I want to and I'm going to...'? Even better, ask yourself 'Why not?' You'd do a lot less wistful thinking about things that aren't really that important and a lot more doing - of the things that matter - that you really want to do.

As a five-year-old, a swimming instructor forced me to jump into the swimming pool - well, that's how it appeared to me at the time. I was terrified and hated the man for it. However, I lived to tell the tale - one which I haven't forgotten in over forty years. Now, I swim most weeks, diving into the deep end and scooting around at the bottom of the pool, in water twice as deep as my height. I'm not a great swimmer but I wanted to improve and I wanted to enjoy the experience: having determined to do something about it, I now relish it.

Last week, my daughter's 10-year-old friend came swimming with us and her confidence in the water astonished me: although she cannot yet swim to the bottom of 11 feet of water, it didn't stop her trying - and if she thought of a new challenge to accomplish, she just tried it. She had the 'I want to and I'm going to' mentality that many adults are bereft of.

I have a list as long as my arm of things that I want to do before I die. Some of them are so important to me that I've attached 'I'm going to' after the 'want'. Others are still dreams which I have not acted upon. Still others, like this blog, are things that I've actually started doing. Having achieved that 'want', I now want to write a book - but I need to start saying, 'I'm going to'.

It's immensely satisfying to be doing something you wanted to do but were initially hesitant to begin. It's also surprising how unwarranted our fears turn out to be when we actually begin something. What a poor image we must have of ourselves if we doubt our ability to do something that is completely within our reach.

What have I done to become more of a 'going to' person?

Firstly, I'm much better at telling others what I want to do - this establishes a sense of accountability and, therefore, a need to say 'I'm going to' so that I can later report to those I've told: 'I've done it'.

Secondly, I'm also better at researching what it is I think I want to do: this either confirms that what I want to do is as important as I think it is - or persuades me that it's not practical and, therefore, no longer important. For example, I once wanted to work in TV production but a taster of it bored me to tears and that desire has fallen off my wish list.

Which brings me to the my third course of action: just try it. You have nothing to lose and, as I hinted at earlier, you may surprise yourself by your natural ability. Thomas Edison, the entrepreneurial inventor, famously said, 'If we all did the things we are capable of, we would astound ourselves.'

I do my best to encourage my two children to do something about their 'want tos': my daughter wants to play the harp: why not? My son wanted to play the trombone: he's just started having lessons at his school. They have bigger ideas as well and who am I to stand in the way of their dreams - apart from advising them to take the similar practical steps I described above?

What's on your 'want to...going to' list? What other things have you wistfully wished for but prevented yourself from attempting because of a 'But what if...' or other such discouraging question?

Be courageous. Be adventurous. Take risks.

Just dive in - what's stopping you?

Thanks for dropping by. Feel free to leave feedback or a comment.

Phil

Rhythm

Last year, our family went to see the Mugenkyo Taiko Drummers in concert. Watching these artists perform their astonishing Japanese drumming style is a breath-taking experience: The Glasgow Herald described it thus: ‘Drumming as an almost religious experience… exhilarating to behold.’ At the end of the concert, I spoke to one of the drummers and asked about the strength and energy levels needed to maintain such a frenzy of drumming - which they made look effortless. She replied that it wasn't strength or energy but focus, technique - and rhythm. By establishing a rhythm, they were able to maintain the levels of concentration required to carry a piece through to its conclusion. Clearly, this takes a good deal of practice but it is very effective.


My son and I are learning to play drums ourselves - the modern drum kit, not Taiko, in our case. My playing is extremely basic and I expend a lot of energy playing, so I clearly haven't developed the technique and stamina required to play a two-and-half-hour concert. But what has all this got to do with swimming - or life?


One thing I have observed whilst spending time in the pool is that what seems to make swimming appear effortless is rhythm - not strength. As with the Taiko drummers, get a rhythm going and you can keep going ad infinitum. I'm pretty sure this is true of life: those who seem to sail through life apparently effortlessly have established a rhythm, or routine, which keeps them going. Life is not chaotic, they do not stumble or muddle or juggle their way through the day; they maintain poise, control and stamina - like the Taiko drummers and the long-distance swimmer. Rhythm does not require energy or strength - it is practised and internalised to such an extent that the rhythm becomes part of who you are; hence, I guess, the Glasgow Herald's reference to a 'religious experience'.


Being a school teacher, I have to maintain a sense of rhythm and routine just to get through a lesson-packed day - otherwise I would fizzle out very quickly given the pace and intensity that characterizes every school day. Establishing organised routines develops a rhythm which sustains itself and therefore requires less energy to maintain. This reduces the intensity of the job and helps to create balance and perspective.


Swimming helps to maintain this balance: it gives me time out to relax, be physically active - and think. That, I believe, is an essential part of the rhythm of life but how many of us make time for this?


How do you maintain rhythm in your life?


What helps to sustain you?


What organisational tips could you share that help you to create balance and perspective?


Thanks for reading - if you are able to contribute to this discussion, please leave a comment.


Phil

Life is a swimathon and you have to keep moving

A couple of years ago, I started swimming regularly as part of a New Year's Resolution to improve my health and fitness. We are very fortunate to have a 30-metre swimming pool within five minutes' walk from home so there really was no reason why I could not easily achieve this part of my resolution. I did in fact swim 2 or 3 times a week for over a year - including Saturdays, when I would take my kids along.


Last year, a change in my job and my finances meant I wasn't able to get to the pool so easily and, for several months, neither I nor my kids went swimming.


2012 brought another new year and a renewed determination to maintain a healthier life style, so I managed a swim last week and will attempt to swim at least once a week (with or without kids).


What has this got to do with the blog title or anything, for that matter, that anyone is likely to be remotely interested in?


One of the incidental benefits of swimming, I found, was time to think and, as I swam and attempted to refine my style, develop my stamina and generally improve my overall performance in the pool, I began to see a number of parallels between swimming and the journey we call 'life' - hence the blog title.


So, 'life is a swimathon and you have to keep moving': being in the pool is pretty non-eventful if you just sit there like a buoy*, floating on the surface and not experiencing the thrill of a jump, a dive, a faster length. You need to propel your body through the water - no one else is likely to do that. You make the moves in your life: you decide how fast, how far, how long, how deep. However, the similarity between the pool and 'life' ends at the pool-edge: whilst I can hop out of the pool at any time, life goes on - like a swimathon - and it really is what you make it.


Someone once said, 'Life is not a dress rehearsal - it's the real thing.' (Google wouldn't tell me who...) and Robert Frost said, 'In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.'


Many have reflected on 2011 in their own blogs, summing it up as a tough year and looking forward to better times in 2012. That may or may not be the case but, in any event, life goes on and, as you would in a swimathon, you just have to keep moving...


How's your swimathon going? What keeps you moving?


If you care to comment on the swimming analogy and offer your own perspectives, please do.






*There are times when you need to assume a stationary, floating position but that's another blog...