This posting was originally published in my monthly column on The Chaplaincy Institute (ChI)'s website which can be found here: http://www.chaplaincyinstitute.org/bio/taylor
Two
years ago my husband convinced me to join his small, weightlifting gym.
It took quite a lot to convince me that I wasn’t going to be met with
the same oppression I have met at other gyms and fitness centers.
I am a very big, curvy woman. Every time I have tried to workout in
a public facility, I have been met with a lot of assumptions: I want to
lose weight, I have no strength, I am lazy and this is first time I’ve
done anything active in my life, etc. I cannot tell you how many times
I have been walking on a treadmill and some has come up to me and said,
“You’ve been walking on that treadmill for 30 minutes! Good for you!”
Would those people say that to a skinny person? No, they would not.
Needless to say, I was a bit gun-shy when I walked into this new
gym. Not only was it close quarters; it was also full of weightlifters
who were grunting and groaning and dropping weights loudly on the floor.
I have come to love those sounds, and now I grunt and drop weights
loudly on the floor myself. In fact, it has become a ritual—an
essential part of my life. I am dedicated to my weightlifting practice
for my strength and growth, much like a spiritual practice.
At
the gym I experience a deep sense of community, encouragement and
support. It doesn’t matter what size I am, what my political beliefs
are, or what my background is. The proverbial “little old lady” lifting
her 8 lb. weights, or my husband, lifting almost 300 lbs. over his
head, are both celebrated equally. All achievements and transformations
of strength and fitness are celebrated exactly the same, much the way
an ideal minister or spiritual companion meets each person where they
are on their journey—celebrating the triumphs and having compassion for
the moments of disappointment and frustration.
It wasn’t until another lifter and myself started joking about how
this gym had become our “church,” that I realized what a spiritual
practice weightlifting had become for me. I realized that at this point
in my life, this eclectic group of weightlifters had become my
spiritual community. When I walk into the gym, the community (or
“congregation”) greets me. People ask me how my life is going. They
remember things about me, and I feel seen and cared for.
Just as I had felt lost and unwelcome at the bigger more impersonal
gyms, I also have felt lost and unwelcome in the more organized,
religious communities I have visited as a seeker, hoping to find my
spiritual home. Just as assumptions were made about who I am and what I
want from a gym or fitness program (based solely on how I look), so too
have religious communities made erroneous assumptions about me and my
spiritual life, based solely on the fact that I am a woman, or was
raised by a Unitarian Minister father, or some other “surface”
projection. Just as the chart that claims I am obese does not take into
account the fact that I have very strong (and heavy!) muscles, so too
does the dogma of most organized religion not take into account that my
interpretation of the Divine does not include punishment, authority or
sin.
In my weightlifting community, I feel seen, heard and appreciated. I
am pushed to transform and grow, both on the inside and the outside—and
as a member of the community, I also encourage others to transform and
grow. We practice together on a regular basis. If that doesn’t define a
spiritual community, what does?
That same week, I read an article in the Presence, the
publication for Spiritual Directors International, that included an
article about spotting. Spotting, in weightlifting terminology, is the
practice of standing near a lifter when they lift a very heavy weight,
in case they need help. In the article, spotting was used as a metaphor
for spiritual direction. I felt that my hunch had been confirmed when I
read that article! Spotting is very much like spiritual direction. We
are companions and witnesses to each other, we are there to help if it
is needed, and we step back and witness in silence when the work is
being done without our help.
Any regularly undertaken activity that reliably generates greater
conscious awareness and understanding of the deepest sources, patterns
of meaning, and values in my life (and in the lives of others) is a
spiritual practice. Any activity that increases the experience of the
ultimate worth of my self, of others, and of life itself, is generating
an increased, felt sense of the Divine—and so is, by definition, a
spiritual discipline.
When I lift my weights, I am pushing myself each time I lift that
bar. I am tracking my progression, while bringing my whole self to that
moment. It is amazing how important a role the mind and spirit play in
weightlifting and other physical acts of strength and fitness. I must
quiet my mind, and yet at the same time, I have to stay actively awake
and present. I cannot “check out” they way I would in watching a movie
or looking out the window. This active state of mind is similar to the
yogic practice, or Buddhist meditation, or prayer. It is working both
my inner consciousness and my outer body of muscles and bone. I also
put deep trust and faith in God that I will be “spotted,” both by a
physical person I am working out with and by God herself, guiding my
intuition and knowing when a weight is too heavy for me that day.
All of our paths are unique and special. We are all seekers in some
way, and we are all trying to find the spiritual community where we
belong. I hope that after reading this article, you too will be able to
open up your mind and see other ways to be spiritual in your life that
you may not have noticed before.
I am so thankful that God has lead me on this interesting and surprising path!
May you always know your strength, both inner and outer.
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To see a video of me snatching 50 kilograms (110 pounds), click here:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=P9G6XzVqVK0&feature=PlayList&p=7CA7F00168B49A25&...
