What if we didn’t count our lives in years and counted them in miles? Would counting miles change our thinking regarding how far we’ve gone or how far we still have yet to go to feel fulfilled?
I was riding my bike this afternoon. The app I use on my phone said I went almost 2 miles. As I watched the circles that were my wheels spin, I huffed and puffed up a steep hill. I looked down at my feet, making circles as they peddled. I knew if I stopped in mid-circle, I would no longer be moving, nor reach my goal or make another full circle.
Are 2 miles enough? I ask myself. Should I ride further? When I left home, my intention was to coast down the hill a mile, then work hard coming back for the mile.
As I rode, I thought about circles in nature and didn’t see any perfectly shaped ones or crooked ones anywhere. My sunglass protect my eye lens, which is circular, as I tried finding them. But maybe I needed a microscope.
I thought about this “circle of life” philosophical concept, where our lives are said to resemble a circle from beginning to end.
How many miles have I done shaping my life circle, I wondered. If I were counting my life by years, I could say I’ve gone 54 years on a partial ring. If measuring by days, I spent 19,710 days moving around my three-quarters-finished circle.
I can’t measure my life in miles. But if I could, I’d like to know how many miles I have gone to meet the genuine Lisa. How many stops have I made to meet the obligations that come with self-care and self-respect, things required for pursuing my dreams, prolonging my life, and minding my health?
I can’t answer this. But I know today that I moved a couple of miles on my “circle,” doing something for myself that cleans my mind and clears my heart.
