When I was a boy, I was all hung up on Bruce Jenner. Before he became the Guardian of the Kardashians, he was the epitome of the all American athlete, winning this “athalon” and that “athalon…” When my father informed me that Jenner grew up not far from where we lived in suburban New York, his status was crystallized in my superhero driven mind.

While I didn’t actually watch the Olympics when he competed, he seemed to show up on every cereal box down the “crunchy fun” aisle, from Wheaties to Special K, and he became an instant hero. Bruce Jenner was a real life Superman. I knew Superman didn’t really exist but Bruce Jenner did.

At the same time, a new brand of sneaker called Zips came onto the scene with a particularly flashy ad campaign. Tween boys would slip on a pair of the special shoes and take off into the sky like home grown super heroes. I wanted Zips (with the BIG ‘Z’) on my feet because I required the added speed they would surely provide thus allowing me to run like the wind around my block for hours. I was seven years old and I honestly believed the claims they made on TV that they would double my speed. I was already crazy fast, but double? Faster than a speeding train?

My mother, against her better judgment and far above the modest cost of my usual pair of Keds agreed to get me the magic running shoes at Marshall’s Shoe Store. I had them out of the box and on my feet before we pulled into the driveway. It was a warm summer day and the sun (as well as the son) still had some legs before dusk. I reassured my mother that I’d be back around the enormous block in no time…I now possessed the proper equipment to optimize my performance.

Whoooshhhhaaaaaa! I was like lightning out of the gate.

I was sure I could feel my new sneakers lift the rubber soles above the sweltering pavement helping me achieve a supernatural cruising altitude. I already envisioned my beaming face on the Wheaties box, relishing the jealous stares of every little boy around the breakfast tables of America.

I was on fire.

Until I hit the Wall.

My wiry, little legs pumped faster and harder than they had ever experienced previous to Zips Day and they suddenly, simply, said “No.”

“But…? But, I have the Zips now?”

“No. Done. Over. You’re a scrawny little kid and it’s hot out and there’s that German Shepherd growling and did you really think plastic shoes would make you faster? You’re done. Just stop. Walk it on home. Retire while you’re at your peak.”

By the time I made it around the block and back to the driveway, my mother was leaning against the car, waiting.

“So?”

“They don’t work,” I said.

My Zips spent the rest of their short life in the Closet of Effective Marketing and Irreconcilable Dreams.

Since then I have experienced a complex relationship with running.

I tried running away from home. I ran toward the bus on the first day of grade school. I ran around in circles for High School Track and Field. I ran through forests and streams on the Cross Country team. I have run toward women, sprinted past them and scrambled frantically away. Running has been a significant part of the journey, any way you scissor-kick it.

Yet, always, the process of running; the thrill, ecstasy, passion and perspiration has been visited by the Wall. The voice of negativity and reason, low self esteem and broken records; my Wall is the accumulated shadow for all of my life’s great accomplishments, lurking…prowling…waiting to pounce on the first sign of false hope, misguided focus and lactic acid.

So, why do I continue to run? Through injuries and shin splints, muffin tops and fat tires…? Why do I accept facing the Wall every time I strap on my Nike Plus and unleash the hip hop?

There’s something about running that is more integral a part of me than the feet I use to run with because it demands a connection between my heart, mind and body. I must not only get past the pain and just plow through the Wall, I must uncover the joy of feeling my fullness, my wholeness, my whooshing being, in dialogue with the world around me.

In truth, I have lived the greater part of my life living on the Wall, whooshing back and forth between ecstasy and disaster, optimism and pessimism, trust and disgust.

If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.

I believe that history has a funny (not always ha-ha) way of repeating itself, both personally and globally. It makes me feel better when I catch myself seemingly repeating the same behaviors over and over again to think that it isn’t just me slipping into those old patterns. You do it too, right?

History repeats itself because we often (usually subconsciously) seek out excuses in order to justify acting a particular way:
*Well, because I only quit smoking for a year last time, the likelihood is that I won’t really make it that far this time.
*I always eat too much over the holidays so I assume I’ll do the same this year.
*I’m typically weak when it comes to that ex-him or her, so the likelihood is that I’ll sleep with them again if they come knocking.

Let’s take this simple concept that most of us would agree upon a step further. C.G. Jung suggested that there is a direct correlation between my personal process and the process of humanity as a whole. Somehow the decision tree whereby I calculate the choice not to sleep with that person because I can choose a better path now as opposed to before is indeed a universal progression not limited to my own little drama. Isn’t it yours as well…?

“An archetypal image transmutes our personal destiny into the destiny of humankind” (Collected Works of C.G. Jung, 15/129). A common symbol, idea, experience, even a common dream, has the ability to connect my inner and outer world with your inner and outer world, linking my personal journey to the path of humanity as a whole. There is a certain magic to this concept that makes the world an even more fascinating, more alchemical place to live.

Alchemy is the ancient study (some adepts would suggest practice) whereby putrifaction leads to the transmutation of matter, most notably of metals into gold. The notion that we can seemingly convert static objects and states like stone or metal into a state of change and transformation was a process that intrigued many people before we were given the brain-numbing answer to free time and boredom, reality television. People living only a hundred years ago used to pursue the alchemical mysteries like folks today chase dreams of creating an internet start-up company or a new app for a smart phone.

It was commonly believed that for a person to attain the knowledge whereby an alchemical conversion was possible, a deep process of self-realization and personal development was essential. In this technologically advanced age, video games, Facebook, Twitter and TV in general, not just the reality kind, are things one would arguably need to suspend during the intensive, introspective, transformational process. Creating gold out of old Matchbox cars and cell phones takes focus. Some would say it requires a degree of enlightenment.

The Latin definition of Alchemy, Solve et Coagula can be translated as separate and come together, dissolve and coagulate. Those are VERY intriguing words for a psychotherapist, and I imagine for many others as well.

Jung suggested that the alchemy of the Self is a process whereby the individual exfoliates, even burns, layers of the self away to reveal the truest, most enlightened, version of our being. Alchemists of the Middle Ages believed that the person who could turn common metals into gold would need to have discovered a panacea, a veritable elixir of life, because it would necessarily be the universal solvent that when mixed with whatever form of matter, creates a metaphysical play dough that can be shaped into whatever the Alchemist chooses.

Following this so far? It’s the key to eternal life (and a reduced need for psychotherapy) so stay with me.

In order to transform the self I have thus far manifested in my relationships, my thoughts and in my life story, I need to uncover a personal elixir, a universal substance (or idea) that allows me to dissolve the places I am stuck and then draw together my broken pieces into a new, more empowered and enlightened form. That’s what I do when I do the work on myself to change old patterns that create harm or hurt for myself and others: I dissolve the old and form new ways of relating. It is also the process I personally strive to facilitate for clients each day in their therapeutic discovery and psycho-analysis.

Which brings me back to Time. I have a tendency (as do many good humans) to view my life historically, through the relationships I have created, maintained and dissolved. I conduct this self-analysis by understanding those connections through the context of time and space as well as my judgment of how I conducted myself in those situations. Hopefully, I view my past in terms of events and behaviors I want to learn from and improve.

For example, “I was a real jerk to that person in college, but I was just a kid trying to figure things out…”

“I ended up having that affair back then because I was longing for love and partnership but I wasn’t fully capable of committing so I chose someone who wasn’t truly available… “

“I chose to marry my husband or wife because I had done enough work on myself, dissolved and coagulated, and felt capable of creating a new version of who I am throughout time and space that, like gold (and Frosted Lucky Charms), I perceived to be magically delicious.”

There is a recursive regression that occurs in and for my self out of my own alchemical process whereby I transform myself in this moment as a result of a series of similarly transformational but static moments in my past. Like Bill Murray in “Groundhog Day,” recursion suggests that I am able to define my present state of conscious awareness by relying on a series of moments from the past when I believed I was indeed fully conscious. And yet, like two mirrors facing each other, I am able to see the mirror exactly in front only combined with a series of reflections of the same mirror somehow projected within the image.

Is it possible to perceive the changes I am making right now in the way I do “me” outside of or separate from the moments in my past when I was also conscious of change happening?

Is this possible without a universal solvent? Is there a panacea that allows me to solve et coagula?
There must be some common denominator throughout time and space that allows me to view myself as a self-aware person within a process of transformation. Relying upon this element, I build each moment of transformation upon itself, erecting a metaphysical slinky that when stretched and pulled forward enough, eventually snaps all of my past experiences and internal movements of consciousness forward in an instant. It soars through time and space and slams into the present moment at a grand, alchemical intersection of evolution, transformation, and perhaps even enlightenment. It changes us forever.

As we begin another year in the life, I’d like to invite you to take some time in the coming weeks to consider what constant has existed throughout your life that has helped you dissolve and coagulate. Perhaps it is not something you have ever contemplated and yet it might be something worth identifying, appreciating and nurturing as you move forward on your personal path to self-realization. What idea or belief, physical place, activity, relationship, etc. has truly served as a catalyst for growth and transformation in your life? Are you aware of your universal solvent? Perhaps it is time to become aware and pull the slinky of change forward…

Happy New Year!!!

Is watching Mad Men every Sunday night a modern Ritual?

I spent the week-end at the Westin Kierland Hotel in Scottsdale, AZ and each evening as the sun begins to head down behind the mountains, clothing the golf course in shadow, a man with long hair and a kilt would stroll up to the edge of the grass and belt out a half hour of bag pipe music.

Yes, it was wonderful to hear the music as the end of day was celebrated by such unique melodies. Yes, it was a great show accompanied by a bonfire and some single malt. Yes, it brought hotel guests together, typically perfect strangers who mostly enjoy their anonymity in the huge box of identical rooms.

All of these elements added to the sunset event but it was clear to me that this practice was not simply a hotel gimmick to bring more people to the bar each night for happy hour. It was a ritual.

My definition of a ritual is an event, practice, and or coordinated behavior that is engaged mindfully and with intention that contributes to the creation of a context for our existence. That gentleman comes every evening ten minutes before sunset and plays for half an hour and then leaves. It is not his job, it is a committed behavior that creates meaning in his life. The ritual not only promotes order for the piper, it becomes something so perfect, significant, and memorable that strangers come to depend upon it.

Most of us do things all the time, often at similar times each day or week. We go shopping, watch television, check emails and make dinner. Yet, how often do we engage these practices with intention and mindfulness?

I used to pray each morning and it became a beautiful ritual that provided a sense of meaning simply due to the fact that it was a consistent practice with focused intention. I used to hike the same trail each morning and it too, established a consistent, meaningful ritual for me where I’d spend the first half of the walk thinking about the past and the second half envisioning the future. It was a ritual I loved that made a real difference in my life.

I consider my life today and there are many consistent acts, but sadly few rituals that add meaning and create a context of mindfulness for my existence. How about you? Do you pray? Meditate? Practice yoga or go running? I’d love to hear about your rituals!