"How can I love this spring
when it’s pulling me
through my life faster
than any time before it?
When five separate dooms
are promised this decade
and here I am, just trying
to watch a bumblebee cling
to its first purple flower.
I cannot save this world.
But look how it’s trying,
once again, to save me."
by: James A. Pearson
running inside of time:
My life would certainly be incomplete without experiences of the extraordinary, or the kairotic expressions of time, but I must concede that there is something to be said for this experience of ordinary, chronological time as well. And perhaps the problem of running out of time, the one that either loudly or subtly pulses through the undercurrents of our modern lives, is not a crisis of lack, but simply a failure of imagination.
What if instead of running out of time, we were running inside of it? In resonance rather than in resistance. Who would we be without the belief that there was something to do or somewhere to get to before we could experience the abundant pleasures of this sensual world?
The best way that I know how to explore the open terrain of such an inviting question as this one is to cast away dualistic and rambling abstractions and to embark on a journey inside of it. So, combining two of my most precious and time-honored spiritual practices: the spiritual practice of direct experience, and the spiritual practice of running, I do hope you’ll come with me on this little adventure, recounting the elemental formations of time, as they were imagined by the conditions set forth by a race called “4 Hours & 20 Minutes of Joshua Tree, the highest race in the world”.
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My search criteria for race selection these days has become almost entirely based on location. So when this race in Joshua Tree popped up within my desired time frame, it was the right race to sign up for, even before the requirements of our question descended into my conscious awareness.
The event called “4 Hours & 20 Minutes of Joshua Tree, the highest race in the world,” would take place on April 20th, beginning at “high” noon, ending at 4:20pm, and would consist of a single 1 mile loop that participants would run around as many times as they could or wanted to within the allotted 4 hours and 20 minutes. As things go, I posted my registration confirmation on Instagram as an open invitation and quickly gained a few co-conspirators for the adventure.
I had no idea what to expect as we drove out into the realm of crooked trees and heat resistant flora. Up until this point, I’ve only ever participated in races defined by distance. Although I’ve learned over the years how to slow down and take up space inside each ceremonial plot of earth, there was still the inherent necessity to cover the distance - to get to the end - within a reasonable enough time frame that ensured participants remained able to stay properly lubricated (fed, hydrated, enthused) within. This destination-focused objective, as most female-bodied humans are all too familiar with, tends to curb the potential for ecstasy within the experience.
In anticipation of the approaching hour, the race director of the “4 Hours & 20 Minutes of Joshua Tree” made a few brief announcements, noting that it would be difficult to get lost, that we could cheat if we really wanted to, and that even though no one had indicated any interest in accumulating the most amount of laps, that someone would indeed have to win, and upon doing so, they would be presented with an artistically crafted clock.
As you may know, if you’ve spent enough time in the desert, there’s a certain dreamlike ambiance that tends to blur the edges of things. What may have had a hardened or defined structure outside of the desert, becomes soft and hazy within it.
My 3 friends and I assumed our position amongst the 20 or so other time travelers as the clock struck noon. And so it was that the edges of one world blurred and reorganized into an entirely new one.
We naturally fell into an order that was agreed upon to be the right and natural order, that should not be rearranged for any reason, until of course the time was ripe for rearrangement. This order contained all of the elements necessary for the co-creation of life, implied by and breathed into existence by the constraints of the endeavor: the allotted time, the desert dreamscape, the intention set in motion by the organizers, the karmic and experiential requirements of the hive of participants, and, subtly infusing all of it, the consciousness of the plant around whose holiday and celebration we had all gathered, whether or not we participated directly in smoking or ingesting it.
Arid Wind became the leader of our group. She was not arid like dry and lifeless; she was arid like free and unburdened, not held down by the dampening of muddy thoughts, and weighted belief systems. The wind is the vitality of the desert, certain and direct in its manner. She assumed this form in order to cut through; to see what hasn’t been seen before.
Hidden River was third in line, coursing and lush, but only visible to those who can see beyond ordinary senses. If you walk slowly and reverentially through the desert, what at first appeared as dryness begins to swell with animate enthusiasm. To be fed, nourished, and propelled by the hidden river, it is only necessary to become it.
Rushing Stone was last in our elemental procession. She was rushing not like in a hurry, but rushing like through water. The stone is solid and knows unequivocally that she belongs to the earth. And yet in this form, she was moveable. She was her own thing entirely, and available to be moved by the dynamic forces of the world: flowing in harmony with the river, swept along with the wind.
Time carried us along in a primordial desert symphony until of course, the time for rearrangement had ripened. It was at just this point that my foot began to hurt enough for me to remove myself from the procession.
In order to represent the distinctness of this particular situation, it’s important to note that my athletic history includes 4 years of Division 1 college lacrosse, 12 years of consistent competitive pursuit of long distance triathlons, and my recent adventures in the world of ultra running, all with no meaningful time spent sidelined for any reason - neither injury nor illness. Suffice it to say that I have known my physical form to be incredibly structurally resilient, even stubbornly so.
But here I was, in an altogether different world, with altogether different karmic and experiential requirements. So by virtue of necessity, and by process of elimination, I must have become fire. Or perhaps more accurately, given my early retreat from the order of things, and the corresponding fact that fire burns bright but has no inherent endurance, I must have been Where Fire Was.
If this had been a race defined by distance, my early retreat from the order of things would have presented a problem. The problem, which does not exist in the natural world where there are no real or imagined destinations to achieve, can be broadly summated as: logistics. How would I get to the end?
But because the end, which was the same as the beginning, was never further than half a mile away (and even closer because cheating was allowed); and because the end was not represented by distance anyway, there was no inherent problem, logistical or otherwise. The world would continue to exist harmoniously for all participants, for all 4 hours and 20 minutes of its existence, given each of our whole-hearted contributions of our parts in its creation. And so it was.
In a world constructed by the delightfully ordinary constraint of passing time, there are no problems to be solved, no where to get to, and no exorbitant amount of resources required to maintain sufficient lubrication. As long as we slow down and run alongside time, rather than against it or out of it, the aid stations promise to be abundantly stocked with exactly what is required for each of our karmic and experiential fulfillment.
We are not limited by the constraints of this exquisite time-bound human existence. We are brought to life by them. We need only to imagine the possibilities that our implied forms are capable of, especially the most gloriously ordinary ones.
To experience the sensual elemental wonders of the natural world; to pierce through illusion with the wind, and see clearly and unmistakably an entire universe looking back at you; to become the source of our desire rather than endlessly consuming and searching for it outside of ourselves; to be solid and held here like a stone, in mutual admiration and ecstatic well-lubricated union (even in desert conditions!); and to burn away the stubborn inorganic material in order to enrich the soil and catalyze the germination of seeds so that life can continue.
If I may, alongside this new moon in Taurus ♉️, offer any freshly germinated seeds from the fertile soil of where fire was, I have these for the taking (please spread them liberally):
May we be free from the false belief of needing to get somewhere or do something before experiencing the abundant pleasures available in every moment. May we enthusiastically embody and take up space within our own entirely unique and radiant forms, no matter their elemental constitution or their time-stamped adornments. May we know ourselves as whole-hearted contributors to a greater harmony, a primordial symphony, enduring ecstatically through time, subtly infused by the consciousness of the natural world, around whose holiday and celebration we have all ongoingly gathered.
💚
Coach Laura
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