If Central Park Can Do It, So Can You
One of my favorite things to do in New York is to run in Central Park. Part of this enjoyment is running to the park from wherever I stay and experiencing the contrast between the city and Central Park itself. This dichotomy was pushed further the week before last on my run following a major snowfall.
As I run north up Broadway, a continuous wall of snow along the edges of the road chokes traffic to a standstill. Pools of grimy slush at the crosswalks meet pedestrians up to their ankles. As if New Yorkers aren’t already agitated and rushed enough, the post snow clean-up tests their patience more than usual. The car honks are more pronounced and tempers are on a shorter leash. The scene is a mess waiting to be cleared.
And then, with one final foot-drenching cross walk at 59th, you arrive at Central Park. Immediately, the cacophony and mayhem disappear.
The snow is glassy white and perfectly edged along the dark ribbon of snow-cleared pathways. Even on a day like today, workers are here and there silently pruning the trees. The space is completely rendered to the essentials of a world class sanctuary shielded from the external chaos.
What strikes me about the line between inside and outside the park is the fierce protection of the sanctuary. Outside the park, on the roads and the sidewalks, people were waiting for something to happen. For more plows and shovelers. For somebody to do something.
Inside the park, a different story. The protection of the sanctuary is primary. By its keepers, its users, and itself.
As I run up the west side of the park past the lake, my thoughts shift to the process of creating and maintaining our own internal sanctuary of peace and reflection amidst the noise and clutter around us — is this any different than Central Park?
I reflect on my life journey and my fierce protection my own sanctuary. It wasn’t long ago that I let my personal sanctuary fall into disrepair. Like muscle atrophy, if you don’t use it, you’ll lose it.
As I circle back down the east side of the park past the ice rink and then the boathouse, I recall the things I used to do that caused me to disconnect from my sanctuary –
My diet sucked: Poor choices in preparation, selection, and quantity.
The television was on all the time: Quiet never stood a chance against the constantly talking heads.
The smart phone was within arm’s length all the time: Open 24/7 to other people’s anger, negativity, and agendas.
No routine: Default laziness when I needed discipline.
I intensely followed politics: The pain and hostility of “being informed.”
Lure of chairs: Too many hours sitting.
I conformed to broken systems: The lowest of low points.
Remember, this is my personal checklist of how I lost my sanctuary. Yours will look a little different but with some commonalities, I suspect.
Decluttering is not easy nor a quick process. To clear the space, you must be aware of what blocks your access in the first place.
I complete my lap around the park and return downtown to the total immersion of stop-fast/go-fast, block to block pedestrian hell.
I can’t imagine New York without Central Park. I can’t imagine anyone without their Central Park.
With gratitude,
-Joe
Hi, I’m Joe, the owner of 5 With Joe Performance Coaching. My clients are leaders, organizations, and teams who utilize my Olympic Gold Medal performance strategies and 40 years of navigating whitewater river rapids to streamline decision making and actions when engaged in complicated river currents of business and life.
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