Thought Provoking Question: 7 of 25

Oh yes.

Remember in February when my already self-absorbed personal space - this blog - got even more me-centric?

I mentioned then that I was "about" movement, which is true. This started to develop in me just several years ago, at least as I recall it. I doubled back on my Myers-Briggs inventory in 2010 when I became perplexed by all the physical activities and senses in which I was becoming increasingly more interested (For that revelation, see this. Really, my whole life circa 2008-present is here.).

When the good old M-B said that, for my specific personality type (INTJ), I would go through stages including a midlife shift to being more sense-oriented, my former post indicates that I was a little freaked out. I mean, I've always wanted to be "deep," to look below the surface, to seek God and the unexplainable, and to think big thoughts. Also, I've considered myself tragically uncoordinated for a long, long time. The material world of aesthetics and athletics didn't seem like something I should want to engage in further. It seemed shallow to me, unattainable and undesirable, and I was relunctant to embrace it. I was probably the shallow one. Fortunately, the senses would embrace me.

After my sophomore year in college, my artistic and athletic pursuits really dwindled. After a lifetime of creating, I was left with expressing myself through two fairly basic channels - interior decorating and design, primarily fueled the seven moves I've dealt with between then and now, and running, primarily for health and fitness.

If I'm brutally honest, I lost some of my zest for being an imperfect creator of stuff back in high school too, when I warmed the bench on my field hockey team and didn't get cast in a spring musical freshman year. That rejection hurt me, and I recoiled from it by doing more "industrious," less creative things with my time. Between middle school and the working world, I lost my confidence with creating and my opinion that it was worthwhile.

By 2010, what really sparked my return to my senses was preparing for major surgery. Surgery reminded me of several things, conscious or subconsciously - 1) My body and how I feel is vitally important, 2) I am mortal, 3) I am vulnerable and capable of becoming weaker and stronger, 4) I get to make choices about how I employ myself and my body during this lifetime.

At that point, I started focusing on yoga a lot, something I did very casually in high school, and even more casually throughout college. This amazing Ph.D. student in my grad school department, now sponsored by Underarmor, actually spurred me in this direction.

Shauna is frickin' amazing.

She offered a free yoga class to her colleagues which I attended, and it was hard. We all know I love the surprisingly challenging stuff in this world. So with a body and spirit to prepare for surgery, and some really healthy role modeling, I began a consistent yoga practice. I wholeheartedly believe yoga aligned my soul for the surgery and gave me a way to retain my sense of personal power during a time of uncertainty.

Next came snowboarding, to which I credit Boston's cold and the awesomeness that will always be Shaun White.

Really no competition.

I watched the winter Olympics where he won his second half-pipe title while I was recuperating from kidney surgery and made my decision right there. It's been three winter seasons and I've talked about the innumerable benefits of the sport on this blog several times. Snowboarding makes me feel free, strong, independent and happy. I am often scared when I go snowboarding, a healthy fear followed by exhilaration, joy and appreciation for nature. Plus, it keeps me warm. Huge plus.

Running in 2011 to present has given me a sense of community. As I've credited my best friend Katie in the past, I can do so again, running with her binds us together.

My girl Kate lacing up before our half-marathon.

Running also makes me feel like I can do anything, and my fellow runners, in Boston especially, are sojourning super heroes and best friends, many of whom I'll never know well, but all of whom share a common, collective power.

Then came painting. I started painting oils again after my breakup with Steve. I needed a place to zone out, to express pain that was inexpressible, and to exhibit power without taking anything out on anyone. Sure, I kept running. But in painting I found a movement that could wait for the right movement, that could sit down with me, that could feel with me instead of merely let me release my feelings. My favorite oil from that time, which lasted a few months, is still the first one I painted - a violet. It's kind of tacky in a belongs-in-a-coffee-shop kind of way, but I remember what I felt when I painted it and I remember the coldness, the darkness of the night when I needed to be in those moments with who I was.

And now, lately. My New Year's resolution was to do one thing each day that scared me. "We all know I love the surprisingly challenging stuff..." I'm happy to report that while I don't always remember my resolution, I am out there making it happen more days than not. This year, I began singing for people again. Lots of people, in languages I do not know, using styles and techniques that are new to me, and for fun.

VoH. We sing and it feels good.

"For fun," like "for the sake of the senses," would have been a dirty little phrase to me a few years back. Not anymore - I need, want, and deserve "for fun," we all do. Singing like this is work, mark my words, but I did it because it was something that brings me joy and it was a talent I was under utilizing.

And now, drum roll, I've apparently been hugged up by dancing. Not the really bad dancing that I do in my office with the door closed after everyone's gone home, but ballroom, Latin and swing dancing in public. This got started I don't even really know how, and I love it. Like running, there is a community to dancing, and a great one full of interesting people in Boston. For this still organizational-nut, there is also rhythm and order and ritual to dancing. There's also a lot of spinning and laughing, if you are a formally really bad dancer like me. For the woman who sometimes wishes there was snow outside, dancing offers me the same element of physicality that snowboarding does; when I get really into it, I feel free and not necessarily beautiful, but surrounded by beauty.

So lately, I'll remember how in the summer of 2013, I took up dancing. For real. And for fun.