Treadmill Musings

As a child, Saturdays were reserved for the picture show;  I'd often go with my friends whose elegant grandmother owned the theater.  You know we got the royal treatment from her!

I remember how special those times were.  I'm also remembering a soundproof "cry room" at the back of the theater where parents could take a noisy child who'd be ruining "Lassie" or somesuch for the other ticket holders.  Sometimes, when it wasn't occupied, my friends and I would have dominion over the little room where a huge picture window faced the screen.  And there was sound coming into the room, if not going out.  When we'd manage to have time in the "Cry Room," we were too busy feeling important to cry; the place was like our own private screening room.

The other day I noticed a "Change Room" sign on a door at the gym.  How fabulous would it be, when we wanted to change—not our clothes, but ourselves—if we could walk into a room thinking about the changes we wanted to make in ourselves and walk out with those changes made.  Just like that.  Done. 

                                                    

Something like Clark Kent going into the phone booth and coming out as Superman.  If we could change habits or attitudes or our past hurts and grievances by simply deciding what we want to change and then walking into the room. . . .

Then I thought:  If we could do that, how could we know we wouldn't be eliminating a significant reason for having the human experience in the first place?  The struggles, the lessons— you know, the process of becoming more open-hearted.  Or becoming whatever.   We might be messing with the very meaning of life.  Besides that, a lot of mental health professionals would be out of work if personal evolution were that easy. 

Without our own "change rooms" we will continue to strive for more awareness, ever wanting to remember our wholeness.  Meditation, friends, a support group, a good therapist— whatever it takes to fully become our own authentic Selves.  And then to find the courage to live in sync with exactly who we are.  Yep, that just might be one of the challenges of a lifetime.

It was fun to think about a "change room" though.   There's always time for contemplation on the old treadmill for someone who can't read while moving.