Running in Circles, Peering Under Rocks
Caroline Donofrio
Running in Circles, Peering Under Rocksthe wisdom of rest, the magic of play, and greeting our true selves
The last few weeks have been transformative. But not in the way I anticipated. I’d like to think I went into this project with an open mind — loosening, listening, and releasing expectations. Even so, a small part of me carried a fantasy, amorphous though it was, of how this would go and who I might become by the end of it. In said fantasy, I would emerge a changed person, free of the doubts or patterns that plagued me. I would find my why, which would neatly relate back to my work and the path(s) I’ve traversed until this point. And last but certainly not least, I’d rediscover and reinvigorate my passion for life. With two weeks still to go, I can wholeheartedly report the project has succeeded on each of these fronts. In exactly none of the ways I expected. * When I’ve tried to write about it — to distill my findings into something cohesive and shareable — my intuition told me to stop. Collect the dots, it said, but don’t (yet) connect them. Connecting the dots would be like trying to force a paint-by-number from what is meant to be a constellation. You need a fair amount of distance before you can make out its form, never mind project meaning onto it. For now, the work is simply collecting the pieces as they emerge. So, that’s what I did. And will continue to do, through the project’s completion. In the meantime, here’s an update on what I’ve been up to the last couple weeks, the questions I’ve unearthed, and what I’ve learned so far…
The beginning of the month was dedicated to Rest. I revere rest as a concept, yet in practice, I am extremely bad at it. I feel antsy, guilty, anxious…which sabotages the benefits of resting in the first place. But it was part of the process, so I did my best. Whereas I’ve been conditioned to picture “rest” as involving some combination of an out-of-office message, chaise lounge, silk eye mask, or piña colada, what I actually needed was rest from expectations (self-imposed and otherwise). I sought a sense of space. Of non-action. To stop forcing, seeking, or pushing for answers and simply be. I hadn’t planned an “offline” break — I’m rarely on social media and didn’t think it was necessary, but my intuition said otherwise. True rest, it said, did not include courting comparison or fielding ads or seeking feedback in real time. True rest was for listening, observing, and recording what you find. So, over the course of one long weekend, I didn’t post, I didn’t scroll, and I (mostly) didn’t feel bad about it. Within a couple days, it was clear what a difference it made. In fact, once I stopped away, it felt nearly impossible to go back. It may sound obvious, but I didn’t realize how much being online was encroaching upon my creativity, my energy, and my self-worth. While rest was welcome, and indeed restorative, it was also profoundly uncomfortable. It’s hard not to push for an answer, spring into action, or force something into being. I felt guilty and disconnected and a creeping sense of irrelevance. Yet I also felt lighter and freer than I had in recent memory. More than anything, leaning into a state of non-action taught me the power of observation — collecting the dots, not yet connecting them. I continue to gather information and will refrain from sudden movements while I take the steps to build what comes next.
Next, I turned my sights to the power of Fun and the wisdom of Play (tenets that Western capitalist society undervalues to the point where even typing them invokes a flare of ridicule). Thanks to the aforementioned social construct, I held some inane idea that “play” must involve Legos or finger paint. (No shade on either.) Again, I discovered this was very much wrong. Ever the researcher, I read multiple books on the psychology of fun and planned activities to expand my chances of spontaneous joy. But the universe had other plans. [Note: I fell so deeply in love with this topic that I’ll be doing a deep dive on the importance of fun and play, and how to access them in our busy modern lives, in an upcoming newsletter.] As luck would have it, I’d signed up for a running group that meets two mornings a week over the month of June. It wasn’t meant to be an official part of this project — it was partially an offshoot of stepping outside my comfort zone and a way to create accountability as I ease back into training. And yet, running down a path with a dozen other adults, laughing and chatting and shouting encouraging words, was (even in its laborious moments) deeply fun. It felt a lot like recess, something I’ve come to believe should extend well past the schoolyard. It felt like freedom. It felt like play. I also couldn’t ignore how these real-world, 3D connections amplified the experience. Not to mention the sound of birds and the smell of grass and the presence of animals. (Almost every morning, our coach stops to help a tortoise cross the same section of the path.) To be so present feels almost quaint and deeply enriching. Not to mention wildly different than the world that plays out on my screen. It was here, down a long dirt road, deep in the wisdom of play, that ideas began to take root. * There is one central question that’s visited me over the course of this project. I do not yet know the answer. I suspect it may not exist. How does one hold these competing truths? * Nietzsche said the way to embrace one’s full existence, free of wishful thinking or regret, was to practice amor fati, love of fate. As he explained it, “That one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it…but love it.” At first glance, it sounds like he’s advocating for a life of total passivity, where one does nothing in the face of injustice and accepts whatever they’re handed. But upon closer inspection, it suggests that acceptance might help us make room to embrace the messy, chaotic, unpredictable, painful yet beautiful stuff of living. We cannot know or appreciate the shape of the constellation while we are charting the coordinates of each individual star. The best we can do is to trust, and love, and keep the faith, as we greet the unfolding moment. * This project was intended as a largely spiritual and intellectual pursuit, focused on the merging of ideas with lived experience. But it has become a physical one, as well. Not just in the sense of my running group, though movement has often provided a gateway to insight. When I set off down this path, I neglected to consider how interconnected body, mind, and spirit truly are. By neglecting one, I affect the others. By elevating one, I elevate them all. In addition to reading and pondering and journaling and stepping out of my comfort zone, I’ve developed a simple framework for taking better care of myself. Movement. Socialization. Nutrition. Hydration. Breath. Nietzsche again:
The actions are granular, the shifts monumental. * It’s become clear that the unspoken fantasy I held at the beginning of this challenge — different brain, different body, different outlook…different life! — will not be coming true. Rather, I’ve been left to ponder: how much of the work is not about contorting ourselves into different beings to fit some outside prescription, but in learning to accept and understand ourselves, and optimize living to fit who we truly are? * In recent days, I was reminded of this quote, from George Bernard Shaw:
I came to this journey because I thought I needed to change. Instead, I discovered I already had. The solution was never about improvement or optimization or whatever sounds good in the marketing copy. It was about no longer trying to force myself into an outdated vision. It was about taking my current measurements, so to speak. Greeting myself where I am, as I am, to meet my current needs. And that changed everything…
As always, thank you so much for reading. x If you enjoyed this post, please hit the heart button! It brings me joy and tells the algorithmic overlords to show it to others who might like it. Thank you for reading. ❤️
© 2026 Caroline Cala Donofrio
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