March 2022 – Steph Simply

I Run, Therefore, I am a Runner

March 31, 2022April 3, 2022 by stephsimply, posted in Travels

“No matter how slow you go, you are still lapping everybody on the couch,”–Unknown

I try to be careful about how I write/talk/post about my so-called running practice. When doing so, I typically attempt to lower the expectations of the readers/listener with some sort of self-deprecating humor. Why? Beside the fact, that I can’t take myself too seriously, I’ve also had too many encounters with those competitive souls who immediately insist on knowing my stats/pace/race times in order to determine, it seems to me, how to best classify me: Real competitive runner or the oh-aren’t-you-so-cute-in-your-attempts-to-jog?

Personally, I am not ashamed of my snail-like pace when I run, but I have allowed myself, at times, to feel less-than, especially in conversations with those runners who throw around finishing times and running paces like bodybuilders flexing their muscles in a gym mirror. If running paces were bicep bulges, then mine would be that proverbial image of a skinny kid with biceps drooping down like a lowercase u. Okay, maybe not the best illustration, but the point is this: I still cover the same distance and cross the same finish line as any other runner, and I have finally decided to no longer feel like a less-than runner because I am not as fast.

“We are all runners, some are just faster than others. I never met a fake runner.”–Bart Yasso

Since the week following Thanksgiving 2021, I followed a training plan for the 2022 Shamrock half marathon/marathon weekend in Virginia Beach. I had previously trained for and ran this virtual event last year, which was highly restricted due to COVID. Training, at that time, was challenging, not only because I was returning to running after several years of a hiatus, but also due to the snow, ice storms, flooding, and other winter events that seemed to plague last winter. Therefore, most of my training, including those all important weekly long runs, were mostly completed on a treadmill.

During 2021 Shamrock weekend, the Virginia Beach boardwalk was nearly devoid of visitors. This was not the case for 2022

This year, however, I committed to completing as many of my long Saturday runs as possible, outside, despite winter weather with the goal of running in Virginia Beach. I also made changes to my weekday training, moving my workouts to early morning, before my workday began, as well as incorporating more strength training, stretching, and a weekly yoga session. Since this was the 50th anniversary of the Shamrock, it was sure to be a big event for the town, especially with many of the COVID restrictions of last year lifted. Nonetheless, runners still had the option to run it virtually.

Therefore, traveling to Virginia Beach this year, I knew I was ready to give it my best–nothing record breaking, but it was my best, and I was ready to enjoy the fruits of my consistent winter efforts! Upon Thursday’s arrival, John, my husband, and I could sense the town’s atmosphere–full of anticipation, joy, and celebration. Signs welcoming visitors were posted throughout, and we met numerous people in the service industry expressing their genuine excitement for the “first event of the season,” especially after the challenges of the past two years.

The famous Shamrock sandcarving is safely blocked off until the day of the event.

On Friday, John and I interacted with an abundance of the participants while attending the Shamrock Sports and Fitness Expo. Like me, they were there to not only pick up their race day bib and shirt, but also to browse the vendors’ displays and soak up the levity leading up to the event. Walking around the large arena, what surprised me the most was that there were so many other runners who, like me, did not fit the so-called mental construct that is often associated with what it means to be a runner. All ages, shapes, shades, sizes, and any other manner of differentiation–it seemed–were represented as if every possible background category box was checked. Oh, to-be-sure, there were plenty of competitive runners who obsessively talked to anyone who would listen about finish time, pacing, and other stats, but the majority of runners seemed to be there in order to have fun and relish the experience.

Perhaps, I always knew this about running, and had not allowed myself to see this, but surrounded by the high spirited energy of all those different types of runners made me rethink my own feelings—so much that I recall telling John, over dinner that night, that I was no longer going to choose to feel less-than because I am not a fast or competitive runner.

I run, and therefore I am a runner.

Bottom line, I find joy in any movement, but especially running. Running is what I do to reduce stress, increase my sense of energy and positivity, it provides me the ability to sleep soundly, and other countless benefits. Furthermore, after years of experiencing the captivity of an injury, I feel grateful for having the ability to recover and move my body freely.

Ultimately, this year, I decided to virtually run the half-marathon on Saturday, instead of Sunday, when the actual Shamrock was scheduled. I made this choice in order to have the rest of Saturday, after my 13.1 mile run, to enjoy beach and relax before making the seven-hour drive home on Sunday. This meant I would have to slightly modify the route, due to the fact the actual Shamrock course looped through Fort Story, and that section of the course would remain closed to runners the day before the event. Nonetheless, if I ran the course as an out and back route, I would still cover 13.1 miles.

John and I were fortunate to watch a beautiful sunrise over the ocean the morning of my 13.1 mile virtual run.

Saturday morning, I began my personal half-marathon at the starting line area at 7:30, the official start time of the following day. The roads were not closed, as they would have been during the actual event, so I had to carefully navigate the sidewalks through town and run the bike path section of the isolated, four-lane stretch of Shore Drive. Fortunately, it was not a work day, so traffic wasn’t as busy as it might have otherwise been. Still, there were a few times in which I had to hop off the lane to make way for curb-hugging cars and/or bikes.

As a runner, especially on those long runs, it’s always good to know where the “Elite Seats” are located!!

All the while, John kept driving in a loop, repeatedly checking on me, and shouting out encouragement through the car window. As part of the plan, John met up with me at the halfway point. This allowed me to pause for a quick drink break before turning around and heading back into town.

Reaching the halfway point, I felt strong. However, since I had trained through winter, I was acclimated to cold temperatures. It had been months since I had run in the 70 degree temperatures for which I found myself running. Therefore, my pace began to slow the closer to the end I came. Still, I finished. I. Ran. In fact, I ran slightly over 13.1 miles.

“Running slow isn’t a character flaw: Quitting is.”–Unknown

Dear Reader, I am a runner, and I will never allow myself to again feel slighted by my pace, my age, my stature, or any of those supercilious definitions–AND neither should you–no matter what your endeavors. God designed our bodies for movement, and we should celebrate and enjoy that ability. One day, Dear Reader, I may not be able to move freely, but that is not today . . . and so, I will continue to walk, hike, move, stretch, and, yes, even run.

That feeling when it’s over, and the distance is covered!

John and I can relax now relax on the beach!

Mexican Enchilada Casserole–with Gluten-free and Plant powered options

March 24, 2022March 23, 2022 by stephsimply, posted in Recipes

“Life without Mexican food is no life at all.”–Unknown

Photo by RODNAE Productions on Pexels.com

Cooking in my home is a bit of a balancing act, especially since I am the only person who has to eat gluten-free due to celiac disease. Additionally, I have a personal preference for eating a whole food plant-based diet. It’s taken me years to figure out what works best for my body; so, I have no judgment for those who eat differently–including my own family. Thankfully, I am blessed with a family that will eat leftovers. This allows me to cook up oversized, flexible meals for them designed to last them a couple of days, leaving me time to also cook my own meals separately.

I must confess, however, that there are times I feel as if I fall into a cooking rut–repeating many of the same favorite meals for my family. While they (rarely) complain, I do get excited when I stumble upon a new idea that could potentially work in a wide variety of ways to meet the needs of the omnivore and plant-based eater alike. The recipe I am sharing with you today is one of those versatile dishes I created that was one part inspiration and another part desperation for a new idea.

I knew there was a pound of extra-lean ground beef in the fridge, and I had just restocked all of the typical Mexican-style condiments we frequently use. My original plan was to make taco meat for my family, a frequent go-to, which can be used not only for tacos, but also for creating nachos, salads, stackers, bowls, and the like. However, I recalled once making something I called Mexican lasagna years ago, but the recipe was long lost. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if I could recreate a similar dish.

Research ensued, and cupboards were scoured. Soon enough, a plan came together in my head. I typed it all out before I began cooking; after all, if it turned out tasty, I wanted to be able to recreate it. Plus, I figured, as I cooked, I could also easily type in adjustments to the recipe as needed.

As I cooked, the aromatic scents filled the kitchen. The spicy fragrance was balanced and reminiscent of my younger years when I first began to learn my way around a kitchen. Once in the oven, I let it cook, uncovered, and started checking on it around the 20 minute mark. Just as I had hoped, the sauce around the edges had started bubbling, and I could see the cheese beginning to transform into a luscious golden baked color complete with a bit of bubbling and browning. I removed it after 25 minutes, setting it on hot pads to cool before serving.

This recipe was a home run with my husband and daughter. They both found their own unique ways to top it. Meanwhile, I created my own gluten free, plant-powered bowl version, and we rounded out the meal with chips and salsa.

That said, if your family has a huge appetite, you could definitely serve up rice and/or more beans on the side. You could even replace the black beans with corn in the casserole, and then serve black or refried beans on the side. However you decide to vary this recipe, its ingredients are swappable and could easily be modified to suit your dietary needs or interest . . . even gluten free and/or plant-centered!

From my home to yours, I share this recipe with you, and I am eager to hear how YOU decide to recreate it!

Enchilada Casserole

Ingredients:

1 pound of lean ground beef (Can use plant-bant based crumbles for vegan.)

1 teaspoon minced garlic

1 cup diced onion

1 packet reduced sodium taco seasoning

½ cup water or favorite broth (I use a low-sodium vegetable.)

1 can red enchilada sauce

1 cup salsa

1 small can of chiles

6 large flour tortillas (Can use 9-corn tortillas, instead, for a gluten free option.)

1 15-ounce can black beans, drained

3 cups of thickly shredded cheddar or Mexican blend cheese (Use non-dairy cheese or skip altogether for vegan.)

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Prepare a 13 x 9 baking pan by lightly spraying it with cooking spray.

Over medium heat, in a large pan, brown ground beef, breaking it up while cooking.

Once thoroughly cooked, drain fat from meat, add in onion and garlic, cooking until onion is translucent (about another minute or two.)

Sprinkle meat with taco seasoning, stir in water or broth, allow to simmer for another minute or two.

Next, stir in enchilada sauce, salsa, and chiles into the meat mixture.

Simmer for another 3-4 minutes, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking.

Place the prepared baking pan on a couple of hot pads to protect the counter, pour ⅓ of the meat mixture into the pan, sprinkle ⅓ of a can of black beans over meat, followed by ⅓ of cheese, and top with two flour tortillas or 3 corn tortillas.

Layer the tortillas with another ⅓ of meat mixture, another ⅓ of beans, and another ⅓ of cheese.

Top with tortillas.

Repeat the process with remaining meat mixture, beans, and cheese.

Bake uncovered for 25-30 minutes, until the casserole is bubbling and cheese is beginning to brown.

Allow to cool 5 minutes before serving.

Top with desired toppings, such as guacamole, sour cream, chopped scallions, etc . . .

Makes 9 small servings or 6 generous servings.

Refrigerate leftovers for up to 5 days.

Reheats well and makes great leftovers

Step into Faith: Mood follows action

March 17, 2022March 16, 2022 by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“We often can’t see what God is doing in our lives, but God sees the whole picture and His plan for us clearly.”–Tony Dungy

I sat staring, alternating between views of my snowy backyard, a March surprise from Mother Nature, and the white screen. Minutes ticked by, but nothing happened. Next, I began pursuing my favorite devotional sites. Still, nothing there–at least nothing that inspired a writing idea. Finally, I gave in and looked at my list of writing ideas–the list of ideas that have not yet come to fruition, but still hold potential. All good candidates, but nothing was immediately striking my writer’s voice.

Typically, throughout the week, I will pause, and allow that still small voice to whisper an idea. It sounds corny, to see it written, but it is true. I’ve learned that by asking and trusting, an idea will ultimately arrive. However, there are times when it seems that my alignment is off with the Ultimate Creator, the invisible hand that pens my stories.

Even now, when I reread those words above, I feel heat rising to my cheeks. I can hear my inner-critic now reminding me that I am NOT an authority on faith, writing, or any combination of the two. Simply put, I am one person who believes in God, the Divine Source of all creation and inspiration, but it doesn’t make me an expert on anything. Therefore, who am I to type and share such bold statements? All I know is I simply write to understand; and today, Divine Providence was slowly unveiling a lesson for me to learn–only I was not seeing that when I first sat down to write this piece.

When working a jigsaw puzzle, I begin, like many, by first connecting the edge pieces to not only begin to see the shape of the ultimate goal, but also because it is typically an actionable and achievable first step. Putting together a puzzle can seem overwhelming when first looking at all of the mixed up pieces, especially if there are a large number of them and/or the pieces are tiny. In fact, initially, it may feel downright impossible to put all of those pieces of the puzzle together to form any sort of image, much less match the image on the puzzle box. Nonetheless, by beginning, by starting with what you can do–the outside frame–piece by piece, your sense of possibility increases.

Likewise, life comes in stages. Initially, it is a fairly linear process–one stage of development follows another. However, eventually, often at multiple points throughout adulthood, you encounter an in-between stage–points in life that are not linearly progressive, but rather feel like holding spots. Often, these holding patterns shift and evolve into new phases, but during the hold, life can feel uncertain and/or even stagnant. There are any variety of in-between stages, depending upon where you are in life and your unique life experiences.

Conceivable stages could include an in-between stage of marriage and divorce or the aftermath that follows. Another frequent holding pattern can sometimes occur in careers–the point at which you feel you are no longer upwardly moving or challenged. Of course, there is the classic empty-nest syndrome–when you try to establish new routines/responsibilities and even renavigate your relationship(s) with your partner and adult-children. Then, there can tragically be the in-between stage of long-term illness–either of self or care for another. There are numerous other examples, but the point is this: There are times in life where you can’t see the full picture–much less, predict the future. The “next-step” is, quite frankly, not known by anyone other than God–and even that signal can seem crossed, busy, or even disconnected.

These are often the moments that draw us closer to God through prayers for strength and/or answers; other situations can leave us feeling further removed from our faith due to doubt, fear, and uncertainty. While I am no expert on faith or psychology, I can’t help but believe both responses are very human and very understandable. What is the answer during these moments? This was my lesson to learn today as I wrote: take a step. Find your so-called edge-pieces and start working bit-by-bit.

During the week prior to writing this piece, I was speaking with 8th grade students about a project for which they were working for my Reading Language Arts class. Without going into too much detail, part of this project required that they choose four-plus pieces to write from four different categories of writing for which they were given a list. They were looking overwhelmed by the project one day; therefore, in order to move them forward, I encouraged them to commit to only one piece of writing for the day.

“Even if you don’t feel like it, pick what you perceive as an ‘easy’ piece and start.”

I knew, from my own recent 16-week training for a half-marathon, there were many days I, too, felt overwhelmed. I was either paralyzed by the number of weeks still left on the calendar for training/conditioning, or I was not-feeling up to the run for the day, especially as that mileage increased. However, the one thing I learned to be true from this round of training, is that mood follows action. I may not “feel” like running, but if I simply begin without thinking–if I take one small actionable step–the simple act of starting, begins the momentum for continued action. Continued action leads to another training session checked off the plan, and one step closer to the goal.

This is what I wanted those 8th graders to experience–the power of completing one small step. Complete one piece of writing one day; then, come back to class the next time, and complete another piece. One small success begets another small success, boosting confidence and the faith to tackle the next, more challenging step. Like the large jigsaw puzzle, they didn’t have to see the whole picture in the beginning; their plans could be subject to change, but they had to take that first actionable step. Then, step-by-step, the vision of their project could come into focus.

The writing of this piece, likewise, began with uncertainty–only the knowledge that I was supposed to write. I did not have a clear picture of how I would do it, or what nugget of understanding would be revealed in the end. I simply had to start typing; taking one small actionable step. Piece by piece, the edges of the lesson formed first. By faith, the rest began to gradually come together, until the entirety picture revealed itself to me.

Dear Reader, like many of you, I, too, am (and have) experienced several versions of those “in-between” time periods of adulthood. Without a clear picture of what the future holds, I am often unsure in which direction to step. Therefore, let us continue to step into each day, one moment at a time, trusting that if we whisper and wait, while filling in the edge pieces, the Ultimate Creator will likewise continue to pen our story.

Shadowy Thoughts

March 10, 2022March 9, 2022 by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“It is only through the shadows that one comes to know the light,”–St. Catherine of Siena

Sunshine filtered through diaphanous clouds strung across a canvas of azure. Inhaling gratefully, the pit-pat-pit-pat of my footfall maintained its slowly-as-I-go pace, as I headed along Third Avenue towards the campus of Marshall University. Temperatures were hovering in the low 40s when I left the confines of Ritter Park and were predicted to rapidly rise into the 70s once the wind shifted and sky cleared. It was a glorious morning for a run (or, in my case, a slow trot); time for my mind to likewise roam free.

It was about 40 minutes into my run that first revealed the beginnings of a lesson. Rays began shining so brilliantly as the light of the sun began breaking free from the cloud cover. I was reminded of summer morning sunlight, especially at the beach when . . .

. . . the air is still cool, but the warmth of the sun, reflecting off the oceans waters, whispers of fiery heat to come. Ocean breezes playfully tousle the hair of beachcombers walking the shore lines; their shadows cast long, accompanying their journey along the sand. Birds call from above, and they too cast shadows of flight as they dip and dive at their prey . . . .

Passing through part of the campus of MU, silhouettes of tall multiple structures stretched long and lean as I ran up, over, and around their contours thinking of all the potential possibilities that would typically pass over this walk if it were a weekday. I was reminded of my former self on another campus, in another time. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Pit-pat-pit-pat, my continued cadence reminded me time waits for no one; like the dark building profiles, those university years were shadows of my former self.

Mind wandering once more, it circled back to the sunlight and the way it played hide and seek with each shadow I encountered. How miraculous the sunlight had seemed this past week–one of those rare, early March weeks, when you know, despite the early morning chill, spring is around every corner, nook, and cranny. It is that time when the earth remains cold, but soft–wafting with scents of melted snow, recent cold rain, and potential growth sprouting signs through the surface. Meanwhile, spring birdsong abounded each morning throughout the week, as the mating season began with the hope that winter’s shadow is finally shaken.

Taking notice once more of my surroundings, I took in the expanse of St. Mary’s Hospital; it’s shadow stretched towards the multitude of campus offshoots behind it. How many visits have I made there for and/or with loved ones in the shadows of duress? I began to name them in my head, one-by-one; and yet, my own daughter was born there–one of the most miraculous, brilliant days of life. What a contradictory place, a hospital, filled with celebration, healing, and hope, but its shadows are filled with fear, illness, and stress.

Crossing over 29th Street, I moved back towards town along 5th avenue where the shadows flipped positions with my shift in direction. I caught a glimpse of my own shadow, appearing long and tall, cantering slowly alongside. Do I really move like that because I know I am not that tall? My head began to play games. For the first time, my mind took notice of the leg fatigue and achiness, the swelling of my feet. I have less than an hour, I remind the negative side of my brain, my own shadow-self. Look how far you’ve come. Think how proud you will feel knowing you did not quit. But I could quit. I could walk the rest of the way. I could even call my husband or daughter to come pick me up. Why would you do that? You can do this, mind over matter. No sense believing your shadow, it’s only there because of the light.

Wait, what? The shadow is there because of the light?

I am not sure how it made sense, but there was something there, in that thought, in that moment. Trying to grasp its meaning, its deeper lesson, my mind instead slipped back into the present moment as my feet made their way onto another side of MU campus. People in colorful costumes were walking towards the campus’ Student Center. Their colorfully adorned hair, swords, and/or light saber-sort of things, capes, and shields cast intricately shaped shadows that seemingly entered the building well before the actual person. They must be headed to a comic-con celebration of the shadowy heroes of graphic design.

From 5th Avenue, I eventually made my way to 6th Ave, slowly edging closer to 8th Street for my final lap around Ritter Park as the sun continued to rise and the winds shifted in short, gusted outbursts. Preparing to pass a presumably homeless gentleman who was walking with a grocery bag in one hand, I voiced my approach that I would pass him on his left–not wanting to needlessly startle him. He turned to look at me. His face was red with exposure, covered in a film of grime, his beard was in need of a shave, and his eyes were swollen, but within the center of each sparkled the hint of another life.

“Good morning, Sir.”

He smiled a mostly toothless, friendly grin. When he did not speak, I wished him a good day. He raised a puffy pink hand, and shouted a cheer in my direction. Within a split moment, his face seemed to fill with light, and for a fleeting instant, I saw the person/the child he once was. Briefly choked with emotion, I wished desperately that I could somehow impart within him the same vision of potential that I saw within him, in the hopes he could; instead, step into the light and walk away from the shadow of addiction and/or mental illness. Sadly, I could not, his fight was greater than I could imagine; so instead, I waved back to him, whispered a prayer of hope for his life, and continued on my way.

Returning to the welcoming, much softer path of the park, I completed my run through the dappled light of the Ritter Park loop. Sections of the crushed limestone path were swathed in shade, and other parts were bathed in full-on sun. Newly established decorative, and highly symbolic, sunflowers dotted parts of the path, allegorical reminders of the shadows of hate and greed left unchecked on a global scale. Can the light of love and peace overcome this? I can only pray and hope it does.

The sunlight had been a welcome sight, but it was bearing down nearly 30 degrees warmer than when I had first begun. I was over-dressed and overheated. Nonetheless, I realized, as I walked uphill towards where I had parked, my sunlit run had brought both brightness and heat, cheer and defeat, mind over matter, and lessons of shadow-side of light.

Life can indeed be filled with shadows–the darkness of depression, despair, hopelessness, sickness, and for some, even moments filled with greed, jealousy, hate, and numerous other forms of darkness I cannot begin to understand. Of course, we cannot control the shadows of the world, but we can remind ourselves that where there is shadow, there can also be light. Without the light, there is no shadow. It is a duality for which we must make peace.

In the meantime, it is up to each one of us, in those moments when we find ourselves dwelling in the shadows too long, to step out into the light. We may not be able to do it alone; however, by relying on faith, and trusting in the Ultimate Creator of Light, we can, step-by-step, find the light once more. Who knows? Your light might be the light that leads another out of their own darkness.

May your light shine brightly.

The Power of Whitespace

March 3, 2022March 2, 2022 by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings, Uncategorized

Whitespace should not be considered merely “blank” space — it is the element of design that enables the objects on the page to exist.–The Segue Creative Team

As a middle school Reading/Language Arts teacher for grades 6-8, I spend a good portion of my time teaching various writing techniques. Currently, in my 7th grade classes, we are focused on writing various styles of poetry with the emphasis on exploring various elements of figurative language techniques and literary devices. Of particular importance to writing poetry, I believe, is to draw the reader into an image/story/feeling in the way a good song has the power to draw in the listener and attach a particular feeling/image to it.

Part of the skill in writing a relatable poem is not only using specific words, figurative devices, and imagery, but also incorporating the power of white space. In the same way my grandmother taught me that our eyes eat food before we taste it, a poem should likewise draw readers’ eyes into the arrangement of the piece first. In order to do that, writers must learn to use the white space.

Whitespace

Creates

Balance and Style

Although it is often called “negative” space, there is nothing negative about appropriate use of white space. In fact, when duly used, white space increases readability–up to 25% according to some sources. White space provides breathing room for the reader, a purposeful pause, or point of emphasis. It can create a sense of balance, harmony, and style. The eye has time to “catch its breath” and focus on the meaning of each line, word, phrase. A sense of play, intense emotion, or serious tone can also be emphasized and enhanced through the appropriate use of white space–adding power and emphasis to select words. By giving students permission to incorporate white space, they are more focused on words that are specific and succinct. This is an important and transferable skill when switching to more formal writing styles that require a clear, concise, and compelling writing style.

Whitespace is THE fundamental building block of good design . . . provides visual breathing room for the eye.–The Segue Creative Team

On a recent long Saturday morning run, it occurred to me that the notion of white space, as a mental construct, is underused and undervalued in our daily lives. It is one of the things I most appreciate about my longer weekend runs is the fact that it gives me permission–and time–to let my mind wander. Many, if not most, of my weekday runs are completed on a treadmill before I do a few strengthening exercises. During these workouts, I typically wear headphones to listen to music, podcasts, or audible books–depending upon the workout and my mood/interest. However, when I run outside, I rarely wear headphones; and thereby, I experience the freedom of mental whitespace.

Much of our daily life is consumed with some form of media content consumption. From the time we get up and, quite often, until we go to bed, many of us are continually interacting and engaging with screens. Emails, social media, work, news, even cooking, project-building, and other how-to content require some form of on-screen encounter. From content that is audible, to content that is visual, to an interplay of both, much of human interaction is now completed on-line. As a result, our mind has become trained to repeatedly and frequently seek points of what I call distracted-focus. Furthermore, it has never been easier to do this at any time, day or night.

As society’s utilization of technology changes, shifts, and evolves, our minds have been forced to adapt. Our phones wake us up, and while I can never do this for fear of falling back to sleep, I am told that many people remain in bed for several minutes, and upwards to an hour, upon waking, scrolling through media content that happened during those hours devoted to sleep. While we drive our kids to school, they are busy with screens, and we are engaged in handsfree calling or texting. Once at work, many of us, myself included, utilize multiple devices at once as our eyes and minds shift back and forth from screen to screen, and, depending upon your career, from person to person. At day’s end, despite eye fatigue and even brain drain, our minds still desire to scroll through social media and news outlets as the brain, like a tired toddler, still craves even more stimulation to keep going. In a sense, our minds have become the proverbial “Energizer bunny,” continually banging on the drums of our consciousness for more, more, more.

Whitespace not only creates harmony, balance, and helps to brand a design. . . .–The Segue Creative Team

Personally, I need breathing space, and I honestly believe that most of us do. Time away from screens, schedules, and scintillating images/demands. Unplugging from the visual and auditory distractions of our devices, provides our brain with whitespace–the space to pause and breathe. I liken it to opening the door and letting a child, or even a pet, go outside to run off steam at the end of the work/school day. When you unplug, it frees the mind to mentally roam or simply be still. By unplugging, you begin to notice the sounds of nature or even household appliances. Unplug, and you might see things through new eyes–eyes that are fully focused, rather than distracted. Unplug, and your senses have permission to roam–noticing the way air caresses your face, the aromas of your surroundings, the full flavor of your coffee, or other favorite beverage, as it dances over your taste buds. Unplug, and you can breathe deeply and luxuriously as if you have all of the time in the world. Even your ability to think creatively and/or problem-solve increases more when you unplug.

Photo by Asad Photo Maldives on Pexels.com

In the same way white space creates harmony and balance to the design of a web page, book, or even a 7th grade poem, creating “white space” moments in life, allows us to also feel more harmonious, balanced, and perhaps even, peaceful. As a deep breath or sigh is gratifying to the lungs, and bring calmness to a tough moment, time unplugged offers the mind moments to rest, refresh, and recharge, providing you with more clarity and the ability to focus on what’s really important as well as give you permission to see the extraneous for the distractions they actually are.

It doesn’t matter if you take a break from screens inside the comfort of your own home, or outside in fresh air, unplugging and not-doing, is never a waste of time, or well, waste of space. I especially enjoy unplugging when I am outside for a run, walk, or hike, but I also have found white space moments in the quietude of a car with all distractions turned off, including radio, or in the quiet moments of my home when others are still sleeping or momentarily out. The ability to unplug may not occur every day, but white space of the mind, be it vacations, exercise, hobbies, or other down-time moments, judiciously scattered throughout the week and/or even month, offers innumerable benefits and is certainly worth prioritizing.

Yoga Classes

Month: March 2022

I Run, Therefore, I am a Runner

Mexican Enchilada Casserole–with Gluten-free and Plant powered options

Step into Faith: Mood follows action

Shadowy Thoughts

The Power of Whitespace

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