Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Praying to the "Saint of Calcutta"

On Sunday, Ed left a little Mother’s Day gift on my night table…it was from the boys of course.  It was a Mother Teresa prayer book.  Like so many “husband gifts” I wasn’t sure how to take this one.  Was this a hint that I need some guidance (divine intervention) in the selfless, mothering department?  Monday morning, I half-heartedly opened the prayer book over my morning coffee, and read the title of the first chapter aloud, “Jesus is my Everything”.  I didn’t even make it to the actual prayer yet and our differences were clear!  Backtracking a little to the introduction, I saw our mantras diverged long before she published her prayers and long before I became an over achieving, overwhelmed woman.  If I had a prayer book (it would be a very short one), the introduction would probably say something like, “deeply entrenched in personal pursuits, she began many prayers with…God, I’m busy right now, but could you please…”.  Sandwiched between the plans others have for me and my own plans, my daily to-do list is a stark contrast to Mother Teresa’s:

M.T’s to do:
1. Feed the hungry
2. Take in the homeless
3. Love the lonely
4. Want the unwanted
5. Listen to the drunkard
6.  Smile at the beggar
J’s to do:
1.Run
2. Clean house
3. Go to Wholefoods
4. Finish chair project
5. Finish yard project
6. Finish writing project


Embarrassed by the silly, narrow-minded intentions for the day, I decided to leave any bitterness in my coffee cup, and change my plans without thinking too much.  Before I could summon excuses or personal agendas, I let go, and decided to adopt at least one thing from M.T’s list, or in the least just repeat the selfless words of her prayers.  Mimicry, after all, is the sincerest form of flattery (not that M.T. would be amused by flattery). 
While I’m in the religious mood, I have a confession to make. I’ve been reading more than writing.  I’ve been reading a lot.  I vaguely remember committing to “write” and not “read” while on this running/writing journey to Boston, but I’ve fallen in a bad way.  Feeling a little dry with words, I’ve started drinking in other’s beautiful language.  It started with The Paris Wife, which then led to pretty much everything written by Ernest Hemingway, Mile Markers by Kristin Armstrong ( an amazing book to which I plan on dedicating an entire blog), One Thousand Gifts by A. Voskamp, and finally every New Yorker that has arrived in the mail the last few weeks.   On my first sip, or first book rather, I felt a little defeated, like I was cheating.  But mostly it’s comforting to know that in my lack of inspiration and absence of experience, there are others I can borrow from.  Kind of like nabbing Mother Teresa’s to do list. 
At a reading with David Sedaris (my favorite), a couple of years ago, I heard his own confession of how he began his writing career.  He privately plagiarized his beloved, acclaimed authors.  He would rewrite passages from their books, memorizing sequences of their words so well, that he could recall their stories as if they had originated in his own mind.  Essentially, he mimicked until the demarcation separating his talent from their talent faded completely.
After borrowing from Mother Teresa and Ernest Hemmingway, you’d think I’d be more comfortable borrowing a 3:30 marathon training plan from the experts, but I can’t seem to commit.  A few weeks into making up my own running routines, it’s time to let go and just mimic the tried and true method of someone gone before me.  I’ve had ongoing negotiations in my head about whether 40 miles per week is too little or too much, whether a 12 or 18 week schedule is preferable,  and what constitutes the best speed work while avoiding injury.  Who’s gotten it right, Higdon, Fitzgerald, Galloway…?  Not committing to a training schedule has been the equivalent of whispering, “I’m training for a BQ (Boston Qualify)”.  The softness of the claim lightens my accountability. It’s time put aside my own negotiations, everyone else’s opinions and borrow the expertise of a training plan for the summer.  I’ll work on this commitment this week and post my decision.  Until then, I’ll spend a little time with Mother Teresa. 

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