Spiritually F*n Fit
The word “fitness” inspires visions of being able to run a 10K, lifting weights, or looking smoking hot in a bikini — none of which I’m particularly nailing. But I hear the term “spiritual fitness” tossed around and think, hey, maybe I can own that while eating ice cream.
I’m a recovering alcoholic, and being “spiritually fit” is a big part of that recovery. Substitute alcohol for unhealthy relationships, social media obsession, boredom, people pleasing, people pissing-off, anxiety, anger, avoidance, drugs, sex, shopping, binge-watching all eight seasons of Dexter before the prequel comes out, or your particular brand of crazy — excuse me, undesirable behavior or thinking, and I’m sure you can find some way to relate.
If you had asked me at an earlier point in my sobriety if I was “spiritually fit” I probably would have said yes. The evidence to support this claim was that I was sober and I could “handle shit.” Looking back, maybe “spiritually capable” would have been a better description. Capable like a mother who can lift a car to save her child, someone who outruns a bear to save their life, or performs some other miraculous feat of strength in a time of desperate need. Impressive, for sure. But I wouldn’t say this necessarily indicates fitness. Could that same mother do car-sized daily reps in the gym? Could the bear survivor stride through a marathon with ease?
Perhaps, but not necessarily. There must be some spark of that physical ability within a person to manage these monumental accomplishments, coupled with adrenaline and dire necessity and maybe a dash of divine intervention. They are capable, even improbably so, but not necessarily fit.
My perspective of fitness has slowly evolved from the standard definition of being “suitable” to the biological definition of the word: “the ability to survive and reproduce in an environment.” But since I’m talking about spiritual fitness, not actual physiological survival, this to me means thriving in life and passing it on to others. I’m aiming higher than handling my shit. This doesn’t mean I wear caftans and crystals. I don’t need to Instagram my meditation chamber and incense of the day. I don’t even have to go to church or be vegan or live in poverty. I might do some of those things some of the time (okay, I don’t). None of them make me spiritually fit. Living spiritually isn’t about the outside, it’s about the inside. It’s not about showing, it’s about feeling.
I don’t think spiritual fitness is the ability to scale a mountain every now and again, it’s being able to trudge the entire Appalachian Trail. It may be more enjoyable some days than others, but it’s always progress, and with each mile, I increase my strength and endurance. There still may be mountains or hills, perhaps the occasional bear even, and I’m better equipped to handle those, but the real beauty is the daily stroll.
My daily fitness test is simply having peace, serenity, joy, love, gratitude, and ending most days without regret — right after I finish that last episode of Dexter. I’m still sarcastic and snarky, though I try not to be mean-spirited. I’m more likely to punctuate my sentences with the F word than Namaste. If I’m not kind to strangers, I at least am not rude. I waste time on frivolous novels, but intersperse them with thoughtful reading. I can’t manifest having the mandatory cheerleading team parent meeting cancelled, but I can manifest a positive attitude during it. I try to head off my bitchiness and passive aggression at the pass, or at least acknowledge it and do better next time. I try not to judge people in real life, though I do judge people on reality TV–which probably isn’t great, but they did sign up to entertain. That last one is a work in progress.
In short, I’m still a regular person with a personality of my own, and I don’t think being “spiritually fit” precludes any of my regular personal traits or activities.
I do intentionally set aside time for my spiritual pushups in the form of journaling, self-reflection and mindfulness, but I also work and do laundry and run errands. I’d consider this “training” but that implies there’s some future event to showcase these skills; the marathon is already in progress, it’s called life.
Some days I am better able to “handle shit” than others. Some days I radiate love and positivity in the world, and some days I aim just for not being a terrible bitch. When life gets messy, sometimes I make it messier before I make it better. I try to balance prioritizing the needs of others and self-care, because, you know, the oxygen mask thing.
Am I spiritually fit today? I’m far from perfect. I guess that why we have a spiritual “practice.” But I’m aware, and I’m trying, and that to me is the most important aspect of this journey (and I still roll my eyes when people talk about their “journey”) of living a spiritual lifestyle. It’s about showing up with kindness, acceptance, and gratitude. It’s about putting in the work to just be a decent person. A lot of people don’t even start the trek. But the trail is open and free for anyone willing to strap on their boots.
