My Inner Peace

When I read about this challenge, I almost decided to roll right past it and write something else completely. Not because of any lack of inner peace or mindful making activities, which we all have, whether we acknowledge them or not. It wasn’t because I didn’t have any good ideas on the subject either. It was solely based on what I’d read about meditation and mental health activities in the past.

The problem is, I don’t feel qualified to discuss such matters. I’ve tried meditating in the past, but I don’t like it, and I feel that my own calming activity is somehow sub-par to whatever it is that the die-hard hippies will be writing about. The fact is; I don’t like to read about these things, so how could I turn my penmanship to such a topic?

You see, I despise reading about meditation, soulfulness, inner peace and aligning your chakra. I'm not entirely sure why. It’s not that I don’t believe it works. It’s not that I don’t believe it’s good for you, I’m sure it is. I think my distaste for these activities are strongly correlated to the person that these subjects are aimed towards. The person that feels the need to tell you that they meditate for at least 6 hours a day, from their hemp yoga mat, sitting in a field before they collect their soy milk vegan latte from the local cafe. How could I compete with that?

The epiphany came as I entered the second half of my workout, just two days prior to me writing this. It’s an idea that I always imagined to be true, but had never really addressed it with full acknowledgement, until this challenge brought it to life.

THIS is my meditation. Training. Exercise. Physical fitness. The surge of blood through your body. The pumping of your heart and the sweat on your brow. The focusing of the mind onto the task at hand, so much so, that on a really good day, you might as well have your eyes shut. Jedi style.

It all starts much earlier in the day. From the moment I wake up. When you enjoy the gym as much as I do, your day revolves around that one, perfect hour. The course you plot yourself throughout the day navigates you to the front doors of the gym. Sure, someimes you take the scenic route, but it is the central focal point of each 24hr period. The mecca, for my meditation.

The journey to the gym. This is one of the most important aspects of my meditation; the rituals. Just like a student will create better work when they travel to the library, travelling to the gym is of equal importance. It is a daily pilgrimage, and a step that shouldn't be skipped. Each step preps your mind and body for what lay ahead, and creates an internal effort. After all, you've managed to get yourself to the gym, might aswell make the journey worth it.

So, I’ve completed my daily pilgrimage to the gym, I’ve signed in, and I begin my warm up. This is the opportunity to visualise the workout ahead. To create the illusion in my head of what my workout will look like and consist of. If I’m going to be completely honest (and I always try to be) this is the hardest bit. The shock of increasing my heart rate to an uncomfortable level, to get me prepared for the main event, makes my body scream out to me, to stop whatever the hell it is that I am doing. It doesnt want this, it wants takeout food and home comforts. But, much like a toddler demanding sweeties and ice cream, I know what is better for it. It’s in these moments that my mind is most active, as if it will attempt to distract me with anything possible to get me to stop. It is an internal battle I have everyday, and I insist on winning, everyday.

Then I enter the workout and something blissfully beautiful happens. I start to sweat. Alot. I can feel it dripping down my back, my chest, my legs and face. It starts to get in my eyes a little. My heart rate stays at a constant level, not high enough to completely exhaust me, but at high altitude cruising speed. My veins and capillaries have dilated, I can feel my body surge and pulse litre after litre of heavily oxygenated blood around my vessel, feeding my body as it goes.

These moments, that sit on a knife's edge of high-end exertion and low-level exhaustion are the moments that I feel most alive. And the best part? Upstairs there is complete silence. Not a dickie-bird. I haven’t even realised the calm quietness that my mind has silently slipped into. Peace. I’ve entered a flow state, a well rehearsed dance through the gym, void of my over-thinking brain and its constant drone. There is no noise, no anxieties, no worries, and no problems.

There’s a third stage to this phenomenon. It rears its head every now and again through the workout and politely asks to be let out of it’s cage. I call it Beast Mode. It’s big and it’s bloody ugly. And let me tell you, if you do decide to open the gate and let it out, you must be fully prepared for both the most pain you think you can handle, and complete, utter euphoria.

Once entering Beast Mode, the blinkers come on. I’ve exited the ‘tai-chi like’ enjoyment of the flow state, and my heart rate is quickly climbing as high as I dare get it. Nothing else matters. There is nothing else altogether. It’s just me and my will to stay at this pace. I’ve become the animal that I really am. Not the sort that drives cars, has meetings or orders Dominos. No. That's not me anymore. My body is firing on all cylinders. I’m sprinting across a wide open plain, chasing down a wooly mammoth or trying to flee from a lethal, saber-tooth tiger. I’ve gone primal.

After a short amount of time at this maximum capacity, my body will naturally slow. You can't work at full pace for very long and this, unfortunately, is the battle you never win. You can never beat yourself. You can’t out-work yourself. I start to slow down again, gulping in huge quantities of air, in a desperate bid to replenish the oxygen debt created and bring my heart rate down a little, to a more manageable level. Maybe in a few minutes the beast will come back. Maybe it won't. You won’t know until it asks.

Upon leaving the gym the dopamine rush hits me. I feel like an athlete. I feel more animal. My previously quiet mind starts talking again,but not the usual nonsense and unstructured balderdash, but instead concise and positive plans, ideas and thoughts. I feel elated and ready to tackle other aspects of my life. I’m calm, content and, for a moment there at least, inner-peace has been achieved. My meditation.

Then I sleep peacefully, knowing that tomorrow I get to do it all over again. I know the beast is waiting for me; it’s the most addictive substance on the planet, and I look forward to opening it’s cage again and again.