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Safe in My Body

July 25, 2022 By Allison

When you have a silly putty spine, gentle movement is usually a safe bet. For 20 years, yoga and walks were my go-to forms of exercise. Inexpensive and accessible, both have helped tone my core and soothe my nerves. Even in the midst of flare-ups, I could usually do a few sun salutations or take a stroll in the neighborhood. Though I was active, my back and neck remained precarious.

A year ago, I unknowingly made a life-changing leap. My back doctor and physical therapist felt I was ready to “graduate” from physical therapy and begin medically supervised exercise. I had undergone about two dozen injections—prolotherapy and PRP (platelet-rich-plasma)—which had strengthened my ligaments. My spine was no longer mushy, and my body no longer felt jangly. I was ready to leverage the healing and build strength.

So, I joined James’ class for patients with a history of back injury. Having already done physical therapy with him, I felt comfortable in the group setting. I was the youngest in the class by a few decades, but I struggled to keep up with my classmates for the first few weeks. I thought James was crazy to expect that I could do a deadlift with a 35-pound kettlebell. When he placed a 45-pound dumbbell on my pelvis for a weighted bridge, I was sure it would shatter me. He challenged me in ways I could never challenge myself, and he could always gauge my capabilities without crushing my spirit (or my pelvis!). Each week, I left group exercise a shaky mess, but I was gaining strength and perfecting my form little by little.

I now work one-on-one with James. I lift 50-pound kettlebells. My weighted bridges sometimes accommodate 80 pounds. James is prepping me to lift barbells. I am stronger, leaner, and more steady in my movement. I still leave every session a shaky mess—a sure sign that I’ve had a fabulous workout!

Along the way, James has been a mentor, a teacher, and a friend. He is demanding yet compassionate, and he is unfailingly kind to me. He has taught me that lifting heavy weights helps us to feel safe in our bodies. It allows us to move through life with elegance and grace. But it’s not easy because we must keep challenging ourselves!

I am gratified by James’ correlation between strength and safety. When women say they want to be “strong,” it is often coded language for wanting to be thin. This mindset troubles me because I sometimes find myself slipping into this unhealthy rhetoric. My young nieces look up to me, and so do my students. As they find their way, it is my responsibility to model confidence, self-assurance, and grace of movement. I can do this by demonstrating that I am finally safe in my body.

Inspirations

Self-Soothing

The Nourishing Power of Gentleness

Fallow

May 13, 2022 By Allison

Fallow times are productive times. I’ve spent the last few months lazing around intellectually. Given that I was coming down from a handful of writing deadlines and processing a few emotional hardships, it was appropriate to settle into a protective and hollow mental space. I admit that I haven’t been reading a lot. I haven’t even been thinking very much. I’ve been curled up, so to speak, allowing my mind to rest so that my creative spirit will reset and regenerate.

Stepping away from an active mindset is easier said than done. Even when I seek a change of pace, it takes me days to settle into a state in which my mind doesn’t churn. Fallowness gives way to sensations of boredom, and boredom makes me feel guilty. When I notice feelings of shame coming on, I swat them away. I remind myself that boredom declutters my mind and makes space for intellectual freshness. It creates an environment in which streams of thought might flow and original ideas might form. Our bodies are similar to fields that benefit from periods of inactivity. We emerge rejuvenated and bring our new energy to our work and our relationships. Not only are we better thanks to fallow periods, but people around us also benefit from the inactive time we’ve given to ourselves.

After a few months that have felt empty and blank, I sense a shift in myself. Ideas are percolating. Each day I sit down to write, and energy rushes into my palms and then my fingers. I am mostly writing fluff, but I’m writing. Though my curiosity and focus are returning, I’m not charging forward just yet. This selfish, fallow period has been restorative. I’ve been kind to myself. I’ve allowed my mind to wander. The starkness has brought new perspectives and opened my heart. Surprising, unexpected creative paths have emerged, and I tentatively begin to pursue them.

Burnout or Exhaustion?

February 8, 2022 By Allison

The word “burnout” has been a buzzword for a few years, and I’ve recently come to understand that I’ve both misused and overused the term. I’ve vented to my friends about my COVID burnout and complained that I’m feeling burnt out at work, all in an effort to voice ongoing fatigue and frustration.

Burnout is a specific kind of work-related stress that the Mayo Clinic defines as “a state of physical or emotional exhaustion that also involves a sense of reduced accomplishment and loss of personal identity.” Symptoms of professional burnout can include disillusionment or irritability. People suffering from job burnout often feel cynical, critical, and/or low energy. Possible causes include unhealthy workplace dynamics, unclear expectations, lack of control over one’s schedule or assignments, and an unsustainable work-life balance.

Though my work often tires me, it is intellectually energizing. I have always maintained a sense of control over my work life. I have supportive colleagues and charming students. Most importantly, I have agency and autonomy. In my workplace, I speak my mind without fear of reprisal, and I have total freedom in my teaching. I have latitude, and this is a luxury.

So, I do not suffer from burnout. My issue is recurring exhaustion. I often feel drained, but I nonetheless maintain my sense of self and a degree of control over my professional life. I believe it is important to distinguish between professional burnout and exhaustion because they call for different treatments. Those who suffer from burnout need help making meaning in their lives, finding meaningful work and activities, and perhaps assistance to move towards having more autonomy in their work. If, however, someone suffers from exhaustion like I do, treatment involves taking a break, setting boundaries, and having true quiet time.

To be honest, I don’t see myself finding a cure for my exhaustion. Being a professor is incredibly intense at certain times of the year and very calm at others. Some years are more demanding than others, depending on service commitments to one’s institution, course load, and writing deadlines. This is part of the rhythm of academia, at least in the States. However, I am confident that I can get a handle on the exhaustion as it arises. First, I need to correctly identify my exhaustion (and stop labeling it “burnout”). Then, I need to be gracious with myself. I can set aside papers that need to be graded, allow a creative project to linger, or go on a screen diet. My antidote to exhaustion is rejuvenation—sleep, long walks, travel, and time spent with loved ones.

Inspirations

Job burnout: How to spot it and take action (Mayo Clinic)

It’s Time to Embrace Slow Productivity (The New Yorker)

Your work is not your god: welcome to the age of the burnout epidemic (The Guardian)

Me When I Moved In

January 22, 2022 By Allison

Today’s guest contributor is my 7 year-old niece Sylvie Rose. An aspiring writer, Sylvie likes soccer, Roblox, and fake nails.

sylvie deck

That day we had a party at my house. I was 1 and a half. My cousin Nora Jane and me Sylvie Rose were playing tag with my Uncle Jack! I was eating apple sauce at dinner! I was happy and I was wearing my favorite color!

Going to the Movie

January 17, 2022 By Allison

Today’s guest contributor is my 7 year-old niece Sylvie Rose. An aspiring writer, Sylvie likes soccer, Roblox, and fake nails.

One day I got to go to a cool movie with my parents. The movie was about a good tennis player named Serena. I like that she did really cool matches and won trophies. She made me think it was me!!!

The Nourishing Power of Gentleness

December 10, 2021 By Allison

©Danesh Mazloomdoost

“Once in a while we meet a gentle person. Gentleness is a virtue hard to find in a society that admires toughness and roughness. […] Gentle is the one who does ‘not break the crushed reed, or snuff the faltering wick.’ Gentle is the one who is attentive to the strengths and weaknesses of the other and enjoys being together more than accomplishing something. A gentle person treads lightly, listens carefully, looks tenderly, and touches with reverence. A gentle person knows that true growth requires nurture, not force. Let’s dress ourselves with gentleness.” –Henri Nouwen

One evening several weeks back, I experienced a transformative moment that continues to stir in me. It was a delicious fall evening. The air was cooling, and the trees were still green. Night had not fallen, but the blue hour was approaching.

My friend and I were leaving his office, laughing about God knows what. When we stepped out, we encountered a young woman in crisis. Her clothes hung off her bony frame, she was covered in sores, and she seemed to be doing some sort of distressed dance on the lawn.

I was startled and scared for her, and I froze. My friend maintained his calm. He approached her gingerly and asked what was wrong. His voice was steady and soothing.

The young woman was apparently addicted to heroin, had been clean for seven months, and had recently relapsed after the death of her uncle. She was sobbing. Her story was disjointed, but her fear was clear.

She asked us to call an ambulance to take her to the University of Kentucky hospital. As we waited with her, my friend maintained his compassionate, caring way. He saw her, acknowledged her, and validated her. He trod lightly, listened carefully, looked tenderly, and treated her with reverence. Though I mostly stayed quiet, I held a space of compassion for both of them.

Within about 3 minutes, firefighters, EMTs, and police officers arrived. The lights and sirens were jolting, and it must have been overwhelming for her to suddenly be surrounded by nine men in surgical masks. But they were kind to her and helped her to the ambulance. As she lay on the gurney, she thanked us profusely.

I have always admired my friend’s steady demeanor. He is a gentle soul through and through. That evening he reminded me that gentleness is life-giving. His tender approach fortified a young person in crisis. He helped her find the courage to wait for the ambulance and to maybe seek help.

His gentleness also nourished me. I witnessed its power to soothe and effect change. After a long day at the office, he exercised focus, restraint, and compassion. I aspire to this. I have since deepened my commitment to gentleness and its beauty. I imagine wearing it like a cloak, flowing softly and creating an aura of safety and tenderness.

Inspirations

Self-Soothing in Hard Times

Extreme Rest

Between, Within, Beneath

Pandemic Aloe: “Learning to Plant” Again

May 25, 2021 By Allison

pandemic aloe We’re giving hugs again, gathering around tables with friends, and some people are even planning summer travels. We are “learning to human again.”

I purchased my little aloe plant in fall 2020, when COVID cases were on the rise in the U.S. Tending to my house plants distracted me from the scariness. Months later, I can’t help but smile every time this scrawny pandemic plant catches my eye. He is thriving but on his own terms. This aloe refuses to grow straight. I have gently tried to rectify this countless times. Quietly, yet firmly I have encouraged him to “Stand tall. Reach for the light.”

But this charming aloe is a pandemic plant. He is comfortable hanging over the edge of his terra cotta home. Good posture doesn’t matter to him. He languishes. He is twisted and a little gnarly. I have come to admire his commitment to growing crookedly.

I, too, have carved a twisty path in the last year. Though I have not lost any loved ones, I have dealt with disenfranchised grief—the unnamable sadness that accumulates with continued disappointment and “small” losses. Travel, weddings, family meals. I have felt guilty for feeling sad. What business do I have grieving when I’ve suffered so little compared to others?

As I “learn to human” again, I like to think that my aloe is “learning to plant” again. I have an affinity for his hunched nature. Standing tall is not necessarily easy. Getting out into the world after more than a year of isolation is odd. We are both off-kilter right now, but as the time is right, we are branching out.

Harbinger

April 11, 2021 By Allison

Forsythias dotted my early pandemic walks. Against a still-grey landscape, the vibrant flowers announced spring. Hope was elusive as the coronavirus emerged, and seeing the forsythias in bloom gave me brief moments of respite.

One year later, it was jarring to see the lemony forsythia blooms peeking out once again. How had a year of sameness passed? Why was I feeling lackluster as the world awakened? The heightened panic of 2020 and 2021 had numbed me, and I’d been plodding along in a pandemic haze.

This spring, the forsythias were painfully and pleasantly piercing. The bright yellow shrubs shot me back to the scary days of last year, but they also brought optimism and a tiny bit of joy. Forsythias are harbingers of spring. Often the first flowers to bloom, they announce a new season. They instill anticipation. And, for me, they cultivate hope.

The word harbinger comes from the Old French word herbergier—to provide lodging for. If you’re a French speaker, think of the words auberge or hospice—spaces of protection and care. In English, the word harbor echoes the sentiment of shelter. Before this spring, I had never understood that a harbinger could serve as both herald and protector. This spring and last, fiery forsythia flowers anchored my outings. Never had I found so much solace in the landscape. Never had nature been so comforting to me.

In Kentucky, the forsythia shrubs have mostly turned green—already! Though spring colors are fleeting, the season’s marvels continue to serve as an escape from the traumas of late-stage pandemic life. The birdsong invigorates, and the dappled light inspires. The world is alive!

Inspriations

Love Musings

Between, Within, Beneath

Pandemic Language

Resting Bench

February 6, 2021 By Allison

“I am that living and fiery essence of the divine substance that glows in the beauty of the fields. I shine in the water, I burn in the sun and the moon and the stars.” –Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179)

The bancs-reposoirs (“resting benches”) of Alsace are sandstone memories of 19^th-century peasant life. Spaced about 2 kilometers apart on well-traveled ways, the benches provided a place of rest for farmers headed into town on market day. Women, who carried their goods in baskets on their heads, placed them on the lintel topping the structure. The resting benches were often shaded by linden trees.

Throughout Alsace, about 170 bancs-reposoirs remain, built in 1811 and 1854. Found along a windy road in Hilsenheim, France, this bench offered a moment of respite to people carrying a heavy load. Visiting it in the 21^st century, I try to imagine the trek to the next town and the weight of the wheat and bran the women carried on their heads. What emotional burdens weighed on them? What were their passions? Did they enjoy aspects of this work?

It goes without saying that there is a disparity in experience between 19^th-century Alsatian peasants and a 21^st-century college professor from across the ocean. Though as I trace my finger on the lichen covering the stone, I remember that time is fluid and that in this spot, the centuries touch. I sit on the same resting bench. The landscape I take in resembles the backdrop of their lives—neat fields, spring greens, unruly grasses in the ditch. They may have felt a similar May breeze on their skin. Stone, place, and air connect us.

This moment also reminds me that rest is essential. The world is currently burdened by a pandemic. After almost a year of living in crisis mode, we need to sit on our own figurative resting benches. Let us stop and catch our breath. Let us remember our fiery essences. Let us also be still and smile, seeing how we glow in the fields, shine in the water, and burn in the heavens.

La Petite Ceinture: The Path That Unlocked Paris, Luke Stanton

August 22, 2020 By Allison

petite ceinture 1 Could you ever imagine being able to circumnavigate the city of Paris much like the 16th century explorer Magellan circumnavigated the Earth? Back in the late 19th century, such a form of transportation was made possible through the construction of the Petite Ceinture during the era of the Second Empire in France. In English, it translates to “little belt”, a connotation which rather undersells the immense scope and importance that this railway network possessed.
Without it, the metro transportation system that serves millions of Parisians today may have never existed.

Throughout the 19th century, the Petite Ceinture provided a multitude of functions, whether it involved transporting capital, housing public transit, or even contributing to military defense by supplying goods to French soldiers. The 35-kilometer-long belt provided stops at 29 different stations and could complete a round trip in just under an hour and a half. The efficient layout of the tracks prevented interfering with traffic in the city, thus creating a separation between the urban and transportation industries of Paris.

Despite its closure to public transportation in the 1930s, some parts of the line continue to function today, whether it be near Victor Boulevard in the 15th arrondissement or the Porte de Clichy metro station in the 17th arrondissement. In addition, the northern section of the tracks are currently being used to transport trains between the major stations in North and East Paris. Only 21 kilometers of the Petite Ceinture remain, although traces of the railway are still present throughout different areas of Paris. If you adventure around Montrouge, for example, you may find yourself taking a stroll through the gardens when you discover air vents which used to belong to train tunnels. If you recall the name “Jardin de la dalle d’Ivry”, which translates to “Ivry slab garden”, you can probably guess that such places cover areas where the line used to run. In addition, tennis courts and housing projects make up a majority of the urbanisation projects that have taken place of the belt’s remains.

While the inevitable evolution of the metro system has overshadowed the legacy of the Petite Ceinture , there are still pieces of its history to be discovered throughout different areas of Paris. The railway network continues to leave its mark to this day, whether it be through old tracks or nature trails that take place on its former paths. One does not simply think of the Petite Ceinture as a more traditional mode of transportation without considering its layout as providing connectivity and cohesion to a city bounded by lights.

References
Bretelle, Bruno. «L’action d’une association : l’inventaire de la Petite Ceinture de Paris». Revue
d’histoire des chemins de fer , 40, 2009, pp. 91-107.

Enon, Claire. «La survie d’un délaissé urbain : la petite ceinture de Paris». Architecture,
aménagement de l’espace , 2017.

Photos
https://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petite_Ceinture#/media/Ficheiro:Paris_16e_Petite_Ceinture_prome
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