People come to counselling because they are hurting. Something has gone awry. A relationship ends, a career stalls, health declines. Clients come in search of healing and repair in the throes of adversity. Counselling therapy can be helpful as we navigate the difficult passages of life. However, if therapy is only for times when things are not going well, we can easily miss the essence of wellness. A flourishing life requires engagement and cultivation through periods of stability and upheaval. Living our days with intention and awareness strengthens an elemental resilience when things go south. The question is not: what to do when life is broken, but how to live well in the here and now. Mental health is not an end in itself; it is the byproduct of a life that is fulfilling, vibrant, and whole.
In this post, I point to a few elements of a flourishing life, many of which are backed by sound scientific research. However, instead of rehashing the familiar talking points, I present a first-person reflection on each facet of wellness, the insights gleaned from my own practice. I am not the paragon of happiness, and certainly not an exemplar for others. However, I remain committed to full engagement with life, despite my faltering efforts. Here are some aspects that I have found vital to health, physical and mental.
Sweat: How the Body Cries Tears
It took me years to develop a disposition for movement and exercise. If I am honest, I have wasted many hours watching movies that do not entertain, videos that neither edify or inform. However, I have never regretted time spent in exercise. Even an uninspired hour at the gym is preferable to the comfort of the couch. There are days when I am ravaged by difficult thoughts that circulate in my mind. I cannot easily dispel the ruminations, nor neutralize their sting. However, I put on my runners and go for a brisk jog, or grab a dumbbell and lift. Muscles and sinews spring to action. Breath quickens, the heart pounds. Sweat gathers. Something happens beneath the reach of conscious thought: the body imports emotional material and transforms it into something corporeal. If tears offer one avenue for the outpouring of emotion, sweat offers another. Emotions have their own energetic force that find release in physical exertion. If I feel anger and resentment, there is catharsis in uniting physical strength with fiery emotions. It remains a mystery how a brisk jog dissolves grief and anxiety, except that somehow physical exertion metabolizes inner distress, transforms it into something more positive.
After exercise, I feel something close to euphoria, relief after a period of exertion. Everything looks brighter, more manageable. The air tastes sweeter, the afternoon sunshine more restorative. There is joy and exuberance in movement, something vibrant in moving our bodies. Exertion requires effort, but there is also something glorious in the strain. Time narrows to a point; the present is all. After the constriction comes release and relaxation. But we must opt for movement, choose sweat over the inertia of the couch. In movement, we bring our corporeal selves into contact with the corporeal world, and there we find unity.
Exercise is never apart from discipline. I have to peel myself from bed and drag myself out the door. That I don’t feel like working out is no reason to skip a session. Anyone can workout when they feel like it. Defiance of inertia makes the difference. Discipline, consistency are necessary virtues. Having established an exercise routine, the body becomes habituated to exercise. Something is missing if I don’t walk, run, or workout. Exercise becomes something indispensable. This is the beginning of a different equilibrium.
Stillness: Meeting the Present with Grace
For many years now, I have practiced meditation every morning. I sit in a little closet, shrouded in darkness, counting my breath and returning to the present. Usually, my mind slowly shakes off threads of sleep. Sometimes there is a bright wakefulness that meets the present with piercing equanimity. Every sitting is a reminder to rise from blindness and meet the wisdom inherent in each day.
After meditation, I make a cup of coffee. Making coffee has become an artful ritual that imbues the morning with sacredness. I listen to the boiling water. Slowly measure two tablespoons of fresh beans and sample their rich aroma. Pour the water into the press. Listen for the gurgle and bubble of the brew. Study the twisting, rising steam. I pour the cream into the coffee, watch the white clouds bloom in a black sky. I take the first sip slowly while looking out the window, surveying the firm greenery of late summer. The scent of coffee envelopes the senses. The totality of the moment is all.
Mindfulness is not merely the preserve of the cushion. Walking to work, sitting on the bus, crossing the street, I am always close to the numinous. I have come to love waiting at the crosswalk. What fortune that modern life has built-in moments of mindfulness, so that I can go about my day with more awareness! At the intersection, I pause, let my shoulders drop. I look up at the sky and smell the air. I listen to the sound of cars rushing by – their motion and ambition. I marvel at how life manifests in this moment of suchness. Though I am walking to the office, life is right here, right now. Life is not passing me by, nor am I left behind in my busyness.
Stillness does not preclude movement or activity. We can dwell in serene awareness even amid full activity. The present is an invitation. The wonder of each now brims with both familiarity and mystery. I come home to the familiar while peer deeper into mystery, which holds newness and possibility.
Returning to Land: Finding Communion in Nature
Up above, banks of alder sway in the breeze. Hemlocks whisper over the waters that pour over glistening rocks. The green torrent is icy and invigorating. My feet immersed in the creek, a shock of wakefulness. Around me the canyon walls stretch upward like an ancient fortress from a primordial age. The rock face gives way to shadowy forest, redolent with the scent of pine. The land and waters are bursting with life and numinosity. Each visit to the canyon revives something in me, something forgotten in the rush of daily bustle.
That green, natural spaces are good for us is something most of us take for granted. However, the default structures of modern life separate us from the land. The digital sphere encroaches on our attention and totalize our awareness. We yield to our screens without noticing our estrangement from land and waters. Our eyes strained, and our minds frazzled, we suffer the malaise of alienation but do not know how to return to wholeness.
Still, the birds sing their whimsical song. The tides lift the scent of brine. The morning still arrives with its quiet steadiness. The land and waters welcome me home. That human society is swept deeper into digital morass is not something I can easily change. However, it remains my choice to return to the forest, to listen to the trees and bask in their presence. The land and waters say much to those willing to listen. They do not communicate in words or concepts, but something much older: an earthly presence that includes all intuition and intelligence. In their silence, they exemplify steadiness and constancy, a trust in a cosmic order that brings all things to ripeness. In their company, I know how to abide the season and rest in the passage of time. I let slip what does not require ancipatoon. In nature, I commune with the ageless and find myself dissolving into the greater whole.
Choosing the Beautiful Life
Aristotle taught us to cultivate virtues by practicing virtues. What we practice is discretionary – we have to elect one activity over another. To choose something is to prioritize, to make arrangements, to let something go in favour of another. Practice is the basis of agency. As individuals, we do not have much sway in terms of world events, or the mad march of technological progress, but our agency remains in the conduct of our days. The activities that comprise the hour, the manner in which we undertake those activities, contribute to the shape of our lives. Physical exercise, contemplative stillness, and communion in nature are a few ways to bring more beauty and wholeness into our everyday. The practice and the choice lie within our power.