Many years ago I was visiting a friend, who didn't cook often, for dinner. I watched her labor over tasks that I could have done in seconds with a better set of tools in my kitchen. At some point, I observed to myself that people who "don't like to cook" often don't have the right tools, which might be why they don't enjoy it: it's just too much work.
I spend most holiday dinners with a friend who is a great cook, but who doesn't have the best tools. She often asks me to carve the turkey or whatever piece of meat is to be at the center of the table, and then gives me a knife that wouldn't cut butter on a hot summer day to do so. I started bringing my own knives, which make the task much more enjoyable. The right tools make all the difference.
There was a man in my life once who liked to putter in his woodshop. He loved to hang out in the local hardware store, and after every trip, he would bring home what I perceived as a "toy." For him, it was probably just the right tool. He produced remarkable works of art in our garage. I suspect that the things he brought home from the hardware store were the guy equivalent of the right kitchen tools for me.
Today I walked from my home in Washington to Bethesda, Maryland. I do so a few times a year. It took me 57 minutes which is just a good workout, but I am sure I have done it in less time. It was cold and windy, and as often occurs in those conditions, my nose dripped a lot. Those, I thought, were the reasons that it took so long.
I had been aware that after about 40 minutes, my right foot was hurting a lot. It has been bothering me when I exercise for a few months now. I thought maybe I was getting arthritis in my foot. I was not happy with the prospect, but resigned that at some point the vagaries of aging were inevitably going to start.
When I returned home, a new pair of running shoes were waiting for me. I couldn't remember the last time I had new ones, but it had been long enough that these were shipped to a friend where I used to live. I haven't lived at that address for almost 10 years. It hadn't occurred to me that my slower walk or my uncomfortable right foot might actually be the result of aging athletic equipment. At least, not until I put the new shoes on at about 8 p.m. and wore them around my little one-bedroom apartment. It wasn't much walking, but by 9:30, I was keenly aware that my right foot had stopped hurting. Then I noticed that my calves were relaxing. I felt like my whole posture was more relaxed.
When I ran regularly, I would never have worn the same shoes for more than a year or 18 months tops, but somehow when I was working out less frequently, I had lost awareness that I needed new equipment: the right tools for being active. Now after three hours, all the discomforts I've been charging up to the vagaries of aging are gone...completely. Instantly, I am younger. I am eager to do a full workout in them.
It seems to me that whether we are in the kitchen, the woodshop, or working out, we need the right tools to do the things we do well. It is the same with our spiritual practices. I wrote earlier in January about Caroline Myss's expression of having a "prayer bank account" to draw on. We show up daily and make prayer "deposits," and then when we have a serious need, we can make a withdrawal. It is the same with journaling, making gratitude lists, dream journaling, or meditating. If we are disciplined--regular students--about our spiritual practices, they become like the tools that we use in other pastimes. The more we use them, the easier and more reliable they become.
Just after a month of more disciplined spiritual practices, I am finally falling back into the rhythm of regularity. I am remembering several dreams a night in great detail. My mind stills quickly for meditation. My voice is clear as I pray. Like good knives in the kitchen or new running shoes, my tools feel like they are working for me.
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