The Art of the Lesson

The morning walk was largely uneventful on the surface, because the most marvelous things happened inside me. I learned that more than one morning is going to begin with an overwhelming apathy and weakness. By the time I finished my course, the reason was clear. As William Arthur Ward, the inspirational author, once said, "Learning is more than absorbing facts, it is acquiring understanding." 

There are many mornings when I awake refreshed but in searing pain. Today was one, I figured because the temperature at around 6 a.m., was about 56 degrees. The pain level in the knees was at ten. That is how they often respond to the cold. I felt drained of energy. I blamed that on the rigorous events of the past weekend. I searched my mind for a couple of times for convenient-yet-convictioned excuses not to make the rounds. There were none.

I moaned and grumbled through the pain to pull on long johns, knee wraps, sweat pants, a T-shirt, and fleece jacket, then moved downstairs for the trek. I grabbed my water bottle and went into

the chilled morning air. There was almost no breeze. The air felt fresh. Although my legs moved as if each foot was bound in cement, I began the walk.

I won't make my movements into any special drama. They happen every day with various versions of the same pain. In fact, the only outwardly remarkable fact during this morning's walk was the absence of other joggers and walkers.  I was almost alone around the circuit. There were only two of the regulars.

Inside my chest were peculiar rumblings. I felt out of breath a couple of times, but pushed the weakness aside with concentration on the steps. It is important to listen to your body during exercise, yet you should not baby yourself. Every pinch, pull and wheeze carries clues about the nature of one's health. I logged each one, but remained determined. 

When the interruption came near breathlessness, I took a swig of water, and the symptoms subsided. When the knee pain climbed a notch, I focused more on the goal - the midway point - a bench outside the local Starbucks. I made it, and took a pause.

Homeward, on the second leg of the walk, the pace was really slow. At times I labored to take a step. I gave myself a rule - don't stop. One foot in front of the other, my eyes on the greenery, ponds, wild birds and bright sun. The house's front door hung in the back of my mind. 

The trick worked, but the energy levels continued to drop. I felt the breathlessness. Lola, my inner voice told me to take the short cut to my street, because I was likely to pass out. I argued with her. She gently repeated the advice. I focused on the way the sun bounced off the empty sidewalks and glistened against the pond. The environs became a haze more than an image. Lola won.

Well, I made it to the front door of my house, none the worse for the trial. I reflected on the incident, yet the cause was not clear.

After about ten minutes, I said, "I need to eat." I did not feel hungry, yet the thought uncharacteristically blunt. My tone held a tinge of desperation. I ate and recovered.

At times, we all have to pass through an experience and reflect, which is the real art of the lesson. Learning comes from reflection. Understanding comes with application. 

Mine was that I should check my blood glucose levels before exercise. I know. That is Diabetes101. I am normally so in control of the disease, my sugar level would have been my last choice as a source for a problem. 

As Ward stated, this little tale is about experience and understanding.  Take the story as a primer on how to learn about yourself. Consider the many signs inside and outside that the body offers during the day. Think about how often you pass up a chance to learn. Reflection on experiences can be a great teacher, unless you are afraid to understand.

When You Look in the Mirror

I am going to talk about what I do not want to discuss before I get to my point. My 9-year-old granddaughter was in hysterics for most of Halloween night. She was trick or treating, and walked up to the house of a 12-year-old that she considered her best friend. For the three-plus years they were in elementary school the older girl always looked out for her. I knew the friend, too. She wanted to be an actress, perhaps a megastar. I always thought she had a shot.

My granddaughter walked up to her friend's house for candy, and got the surprise of her way-too-short life. She saw a four-foot tall sign that read, "R.I.P. Jennifer," in the front yard, but thought it was part of the holiday decorations.  After she and her mom and brother knocked on the door, the girl was informed that her first real friend died.

My wife and I were at dinner when the call came that the granddaughter was crying and would not stop. The trio wanted to come by our home, so we went back to the house.

My granddaughter was inconsolable. My wife cried. My daughter cried. The 5-year-old grandson asked when they could finish the second leg of the quest for candy. I sat in silence. I never told her the girl committed suicide. I was unable to say anything that could make anyone feel better, mostly because the news hit me like the Hulk had punched me in the gut.

Honestly, I heard "a suicide" around the neighborhood more than a week before. I was not that moved. Suicide is epidemic, according to former Surgeon General David Satcher, M.D. , and most preventable. Sad to admit, people like me who turn a deaf ear to such reports become part of the problem. My aloofness at the general news indicates a serious imbalance in my spiritual and mental natures. I am likely not alone, but know that 3.5 million youths either have thought, plan to, have tried, or about to try to take themselves out this year. The Centers for Disease Control says suicide is the third major cause of death for the 15-to-24 crowd. Among 5- to 14-year-olds, the American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry says it is the sixth cause of death.

Now, to my real point - we would treat ourselves better if when we look in the mirror we saw what God sees. I did not want to write about this experience, but my will wore down during my morning exercises and daily activities during the past two days. I cannot find a better way to get the sight of a weeping granddaughter dressed as Supergirl,  and the memory of her now-dead friend's enthusiastic smile out of my mind.

As I worked out during the last couple of days, the question that dogged me was what the 12-year-old saw in the mirror. I wished she saw the beautiful gift she was to us. Unfortunately, there are so many forces in society that militate against it. That led to larger thoughts - what do most people of all ages see when they looked in the mirror?

I rarely stare at myself in a mirror. I know that I will only see a beautiful gift from God. Also, old-style religious training makes me fear temptation toward vanity.

Society wants me to be ashamed that I am fat. Society wants me to be ashamed that I am black. Society wants me, you and anyone who pays attention to the daily media bombardment to be ashamed of the reality of human diversity. The constant media mantra, "You are not enough," prompts far too many people to waste money and time to try to fit or improve the wrong aspects of their existence.

Society wants us to be rich, thinner, more muscular, and taller but not too tall, with the "right" hair, teeth, smell, clothes, possessions and friends. In case anyone  does not know good from bad, the lesson comes with illustrations.

Experiment - search the internet for "beauty" images versus "handsome," and note the vast differences between the latitude allowed for women to consider themselves "beautiful" and men "handsome." In fact,rappers have said for decades the bigger the bankroll, for some women,  the more "handsome" the man. When did we get reality so twisted.

The reality is that God does not make junk. When you look in the mirror, you should get the message "I am worthy." My granddaughter, her friend, and other people throughout the world should realize YOU are all you really possess. Celebrate don't berate the beauty that exists in that presence.

My granddaughter came to the house last week after school and said, "How can I be skinny?"

"What?" I asked.

"I am fat."

"No," I said. "You are nine. You have no idea what you will look like when you are 19, or 29, or even 39."

"Yeah," she said with the kind of dismissive tone a child offers when they believe the adult does not get the point. "All of the other girls in my class are skinny. I am the only fat one. I don't want to be fat."

"The question is not what you want," I said, "but why?"

"I want to be like everybody else," she said."

"Well," I said that will never get you anywhere."

Well, I guess some of you are going to cast me as a "bad grandpa," but I told her to worry more about her grades than the size of her belly. By the way, the child is far from fat by International standards. At her age it is more important to think about who she is than what she wants to appear to be.

I told her about the mirror and beauty, but that does not have much impression on a grade-schooler. I guess I will just have to say it louder and more often - "You are worthy, because you are a beautiful gift that God gave to us."

I hope my granddaughter does not become a suicide statistic someday. I hope won't trade who she is for what someone would like her to be just to get along. I hope no one does. I hope she follows my example and learns to see the wonder of her existence in the mirror.

Most of us are banged up or broken inside and out, yet we have the power to make of God's gift whatever we will. If we take charge of our self-images, others cannot tell us what is important.
Long ago, those who said I was not worthy, important, hip, or relevant,  lost my attention. Even in this journey toward harmony and balance, my focus is on God's opinion more than those of other people.

I can't wait to hear what he has to say about who I am and what I did when the earthly part of my story ends. "You are worthy," I hope he will say, "because you were a beautiful gift."

Hey, Listen! Your Body is Talking

I'm back, dear readers. Thanks for the encouragement, comments, information and questions so many of you passed to me through the blog. I love to hear from you. Sorry for the brief absence, but there are times when one has to pause for the cause.

My body was strong on Monday, but shut down onTuesday. The challenges of dealing with acute arthritis, diabetes and sleep apnea.

I do not know why my energy sources are depleted at certain points. One minute, the batteries have a full charge.  Usually, the cycle is high at sunrise and burned out by sunset.  As the energy levels run down, sometime I can switch to auxiliary power - a couple of squares of dark chocolate, a hand full of nuts, or an apple or banana - to take me a few more hours. Then there are those times that come with age and my condition when the body launches a complete system shutdown.

That was Tuesday. I felt a little weary, reclined about 10 a.m. for a short nap and awakened around 5:30 p.m. Welcome to my world. The heart wants what it wants, but the body does not even ask. I do not get a vote.

I got used to weariness, and accept the lapse in energy as a legitimate aid to health. I do not believe in energy drinks or coffee for a quick boost, or to fight off the warning signals that flash in the recesses of my brain, when "Lola," the little silent voice impassively informs me, "System shutdown in five...four...three...two...one." Lights out!!!

Anyway, this is my way to say, listen to your body. The little signs and inklings that are around you are ignored at your peril. Yield when you experience an imbalance or a sense of dissonance in the body's response. Whatever you think is such an emergency - other than kids or a pot on the stove - will still be there tomorrow, or someone else can handle it.

Now, there are probably some hard-driving careerists, medical people or athletes that see my advice as far too wimpy for consideration. They subscribe to the Arnold Schwarzenegger School of Thought. "The mind is the limit," he once said. "As long as the mind can envision the fact that you can do something, you can do it, as long as you really believe 100 percent."

Well, Arnold,  on Tuesday I believed 100 percent that I would fulfill the days schedule. My body did not. "Lola" does not debate.

I am more a disciple of the Indian actress Kajol, who says: "The best thing you can do for your body is sleep. It's simple. Cater to your body as much as to your mind. Your body, after all, houses your mind. You have to pay attention to your physicality as much as your mentality."

Wednesday was a blur of doctor meetings, but I was back in the rough. Unfortunately, there was not enough time to write about Tuesday. Thursday was taken up in meetings with other writers and errands with and for the grandchildren. Nonetheless, I could not let the week days end without the expression of this one insight about the need to respect and submit to the body.

Parting thought - Bernie Siegel, retired pediatric surgeon and author of popular health books during the 1980s and early 1990s, such as says the New York Times bestseller Peace, Love & Healing: BodyMind Communication & the Path to Self Healing, casts the messages from your bodily spirit as a dialog. He once wrote, "Your body loves you, but if you do not love your life, it will end it far sooner, thinking it is doing you a favor."

Let's Chat About Fat

Monday was a step up from Sunday. Pain in the knees was at nine, and the rest of my body stayed at a comparatively calm eight. Some of those who read this might wonder why I celebrate. "You're still hurting," they might say. True. At the same time, one learns to be grateful for any little break.

Gratefulness came to mind yesterday when I read a story on fat. Most people assume there is no room for fat in wellness. There are so many commercials on television and radio that paint fat as the enemy. The hypers try to make believe that our lives won't be complete until all fat is wiped from the face of the Earth. I am grateful, because the article I read said humans need fat to live. 

If you know about fat, this brief entry might bore you. If not, bear with my distillation of what I learned - good fat energizes me, keeps the skin and hair healthy, aids some vitamin absorption, and provides a layer of warmth.

I heard about saturated and unsaturated fat, but I never understood the difference. Saturated, generally found in animal products and vegetable oils, clogs you. It leads to high cholesterol and perhaps heart attacks. Unsaturated fats, monounsaturated and polyunsaturated included, are good.

"Polyunsaturated fats include the famed omega 3 and omega 6 fats, both considered essential fatty acids, because our bodies can't make them on its own," the article said. "Polyunsaturated fats can help lower total cholesterol, while monounsaturated fats can raise "good" cholesterol, or HDL, and lower "bad" cholesterol, or LDL."

To get the suggested 20 to 35 percent of the "good fat" in my diet, the article said to eat more avocado, nuts (especially almonds), fish with high fat content (such as salmon), olives (oil included), eggs, and flax and other types of seeds. According to what I read, in the long run the result of such a shift in diet will make me a lot more healthy. For that, I would be be very grateful.

The Will and The Way

The pleasure of the crisp freshness in the air outside my body at 7 a.m., when I began the morning walk held a strong contrast to rotten pain in my knees. The 60-some-degrees temp here in Orlando was not far in its feel from 50-something i used to feel in Rochester. In fact, the weather chart says that is about how the weather there began today. Nonetheless, weather is changeable, yet my knee aches are a constant.

To use a doctor's measure - how much does it hurt on a scale from one to ten - most of every 24-hours the knees are a nine or ten, while the rest of the joints are a solid eight. This morning, the right knee was a 12, and the left fought hard for first place. That said, with a few pauses and a lot of time, I made the three-mile circuit around the neighborhood.

As Victor Hugo once said, "People do not lack strength, they lack will." Not to be dramatic, but there is much to be said for the force of human will. I willed myself in the sporadic trudge of my footsteps against the concrete sidewalks to not turn around. I allowed myself to sit a few times on the benches along the way, but not to turn back. I felt a little embarrassed as the joggers and other walkers looped me, but remained determined.

That is fate for those who want to fight the effects of rheumatoid arthritis or diabetes. We have to fight against the forces within our minds and hearts that tell us that the pain is larger or stronger than the will a human can muster. We have to resist the deceptive inner voice that whispers, You will be better off and pain-free in the comfy chair or bed.

In the quiet of this Sunday morning, I found the pain to be pretty big and fierce in its appearance. The inner voice came up with at least a half-dozen sound excuses for me to relent, but the will kicked in. In moments when the hurt was so severe that I almost saw the logic in compromise with the excuses, I reached out to The Way - God.

I mean, we say that God is bigger and stronger than any force that can come against us, right? I shut down the whisper with a silent plea to God for the strength to enforce my will.

When I reached the halfway point, the right knee, which is bone-on-bone, was warm and swollen. That is my body saying, "Danger. Danger." For those who do not believe in talking bodies, it is like driving a flat on the rims. The left knee, which makes a sound like loose change, just throbbed. Again, the left knee yearns to best the right, and not come off as wimpy.

Well, after a rest at the halfway mark, I stood and slowly shuffled one foot in front of the other. There is no heroics in that. If you wish to walk, you have to step. If you want to beat back the effects of arthritis, you have to move. If you want to kick diabetes, you need exercise. If I wanted to get back home, I needed to start. As the feet moved closer toward the goal on the ground, the gospel music in my ears lifted my spirit. The sights of the rising sun, palm trees, ponds, greenery and various kinds of wildlife, from squirrels to flying heron gave my mind a focus that pushed past the hurt. I even took the long way around, instead of the shortcut, to the front door.

I am no superman, yet I am also not devoid of The Will or The Way. I will use that knowledge as the months and years of this effort continue. I found no small coincidence in the fact that as I entered the last block to the house, Hezekiah Walker's choir sang, "Every praise is to our God." I sang along.

Use the YouTube link in the text above if the video doesn't load.

Back in Action

I'm back. The Rest of Me was silent for awhile, yet the saga continues.

I don't have any one excuse for the lack of communication. Write the blog!, I told myself every day. Literally. An array of problems stayed the good thoughts, and tamped my desire to communicate. I could tell stories, but I won't. Suffice to state, the issues included everything from the time I overstressed myself walking and was flattened by back pain for three days to the need to deal with other people's issues. This morning, I recalled an old adage: "To think is easy; to act is difficult," someone once said. "To act as one thinks is the most difficult of all."

I and many people want changes in our lives. We think about them. We visualize them. The problem - some people do every thing except act on them. That is why many people do not get what they say they want. Frequently, I just do, rather than to talk, think or visualize the results I want. The action always seem to bring me

the sense of balance and harmony, because to not verbalize the desire lowers the pressure that comes with a high level of expectation.

For example, last month I start a blog. Impatience crept in not long after I began. I wanted the blog to appeal to readers. I wanted the digital diary to be dynamic in its own way, yet appeal to others without coming off as a crude attempt by yet another netizen to "live out loud." The impatience and high expectations made me over think the blog writing, which quickly led me to a general dissatisfaction with the whole process.  Believe it or not, all of that happened in less than two months. I decided to forget thoughts about what will happen, and just do.

The same with the activities involved in this journey toward mental, physical and spiritual balance and harmony. There are times when I over-think details. Now, I just write.

I became focused too much on weight-loss a few weeks ago. I weighed myself on about five different scales. Every machine, digital and mechanical,  showed a different result. The only sure thing is that that I now weigh somewhere between 353 and 316 pounds. I almost pulled the plug on the effort because the weight-loss seemed to creep too slowly, or because I did not like the tease of joy that came with the thought that the pounds fell off pretty fast. Frustration with the lack of consistency or accuracy led me to act. I told myself to forget the weight, just do.

I walk, watch the diet, keep positive thoughts, search for wellness education or insights, and finally, write The Rest of Me because those things will take me away from the state I was in when the journey began. My actions do not guarantee to take me to any specific destination. I have a place in my where I would like my life to go, but no guarantees I might ever reach someplace inspired by expectation. My actions will take me from where I was. That is enough. Where I might end up with this blog, and this journey are a mystery. All of that means I can look forward to something. Since I do not control the outcome, I will have to hope that the journey takes me to a better place than it found me. At least, I hope that I can act on my thoughts.

Dawn is not far off. That is when I walk. I hope today's trip around the neighborhood will inspire another entry.

The Jumble

I used to like to do puzzles in the daily newspaper that featured words with the letters scrambled. I would figure out the correct word, and write it on an allotted line where some of the letter spaces were circled. Every letter in a circle was to be later used to unscramble a single, correct word to complete an often comical, sometimes ironic, sentence featured in the game.

Today I feel like my life is that puzzle. I have not been able to find enough time to write this week, but I need to say something about the fact that I feel as if everything around me is in a jumble. I am walking every morning, weigh somewhere between 343 and 353 pounds, which means I have lost anywhere from 24 to 34 pounds throughout the past month. I should be pleased, but no. I have begun to notice a little more space around the waste in my trousers. For some people that would be a joyous occasion. Not me. I am puzzled. I feel like when I stared at the out-of-order letters in the puzzle - there is something in this that is important to understand, but I have to figure it out. The answer is not clear.

By now, I should have reached a point where I have a good grasp on the meaning and direction of this journey toward better physical, mental and spiritual harmony and balance. I don't. The only thing I can see is that the future, as the puzzle letters, will not take a meaningful shape unless I am patient. I cannot understand what is clearly in front of me unless I continue to seek a solution. I recall some letter combinations that almost seemed impossible, yet the puzzle promises every group leads to a word. Like those words, the jumble in my life right now will suddenly become clear. The mystery of what I am doing, how I should do, why I am doing this, and where it might lead will someday be answered. The key is to keep trying.

Getting to Yes

Joseph was six-feet perhaps, not an inch shorter than me, yet as the broad-faced, dark chocolate-skinned man lumbered slowly toward me with a slumped gait that made him seem at least three inches shorter. At the same time, I could feel and see that each step he took reeked with pain. Some

days, I still do the same dance, and six months before my ability to sit, reach, stretch, or even take a step was just as bound.

People who do not have chronic arthritis or join and muscle pain might not be able to imagine how much the constant stabbing or wrenching cramps transform the body, mind and spirit. Most well-meaning, yet uninitiated people will say something like,"You can get over it," which is meant to be an encouragement. Worse, are those who offer,  "Think positive thoughts," or "I read an article that said you can use natural foods to stop those pains."

The real truth that Joseph and I know is that once pain moves into your life it pervades your space as much as a wife. The hurt and accompanied depression can become constant companions. You an feel the presence in your sleep. They make you aware of their deep intrusions on your life every time you move. When you try to get out of bed in the morning, like a hungry lover, pain tries to pull you back.

Pain demands your surrender. That is why those who live with chronic pain conditions learn to fight. That is also why they need support to succeed. Boldly said, no one knows the pain and depression unless they have been there.

I previously wrote about the cycle of pain that makes you want to quit life. Like the call of a siren, with every step, reach, sit, and stretch, pain slaps or stabs at you until you recline. You notice it hurst less when you lie perfectly still, although the body wracks even then. Finally, pain convinces you that you cannot get up. You cannot fight. In the recesses of your mind, uninvited voices whisper, "give up."

So, as Joseph sat near me at a table in Health Food City, where Dr. Lin has her office, we talked about pain and movement. Truth be told, to my embarrassment, I talked about 70 percent more than he. Joseph kind of looked at me and listened to my words, as any smart person might when
introduced to a stranger. I could see in his eyes, he was not certain what to make of the situation. C'mon, you go to the doctor and she introduces you to another patient, who claims to be going through the same kinds of pains and circumstances.

He listened and his manner warmed as I rapidly cycled through memories of my long walk with pain. Somewhere in what I said about the responses of immobility and depression, we seemed to begin to bond. I read doubt in his eyes, but he hoped for release, as I did months ago.

I hoped that he might become a personal support on my journey to physical, mental and spiritual harmony and balance. Someone to chat with, exchange stories, celebrate victories, and listen. I planned to do the same for him.

As his ride pulled up, I handed Joseph my card. He took the small cardboard rectangle, and promised to email me his contact information. He did. Yes. For both of us, that is where another story begins.

Exercise Is Medicine

I walked twice the usual distance this morning. As I strolled the empty predawn streets, I found new energy to propel me past the pains and doubts that constantly push me to quit this effort. I marveled at the new spirit, then realized its root is in an old mantra, "Exercise is medicine."

A nutritionist told me those words in 2006, when diabetes joined rheumatoid arthritis as my affliction. Movement is key, she used to say.  Exercise fights sugar, stiff joints, poor blood flow, and the butt spread from sitting.

At points, the daily walk becomes an act of meditation. "Exercise is medicine," and other little things I say to myself help fight the sharp stabs and aches in my legs, knees, hips and back. Those hurts gang up on me and feed the urge to quit. The pain spurs the negative thoughts and the despair - which hits more often than you can imagine - that hangs you between the desire to live and die. That tedious imbalance and dissonance opens my impatient, doubt-filled consciousness to embrace defeat and stasis like a couple of long-lost relatives.

My experience is clear, but not isolated. A recently published study in a Sports Science journal cites the ties between self-talk and endurance. Thoughts can snatch victory from defeat.

It is a twisted cycle. The less I move, the less I feel pain. The less I move the more the physical, mental and spiritual sickness grows. The more the malady swallows my body, mind and spirit the greater I hurt until the decline hits my soul and chokes the existence out of my life.

I might never enjoy exercise, but what I tell myself about it is key. The steady steps, especially in the predawn silence, help me to build stamina, clear my mind, process ideas, and douse the cares of daily existence. The words in my head pump up this journey toward physical, mental and spiritual balance and harmony like fertilizer does plants. They can convince me that I will bloom.

The Good, the Bad and the Better

As most periods in life, this week brought challenges that might have melted into frustration, except for my capacity to accept that "some days you get the bear, and some days the bear gets you." I would like to say that I developed the ability to accept ups and downs with a certain level of peace because I am so great. The truth is, the realization came into my mindset a few years back when I grew to accept that God, not I, bears responsibility for the universe. That was the first step along a path to spiritual balance and harmony. I have freewill, as do all humans. The difference is that I accept that sometimes you can do everything in your power, and there are so many circumstances that remain to be overcome. This week I found that my control did little to reign in poor diet habits and the weather, yet I am encouraged by good.

The soups pull me in, and the pounds drop off.

On Friday, Sept. 19, I fidgeted my six-foot, one frame into the higi machine at the local market. Check out the link above, if you did not read what I previously  wrote about the device. Anyway, I thought I might have to shoehorn my body into the metal health mobile, yet noticed a little more ease in the fit. Never one to get too excited, I input my data and requested to be weighed. The digital device said that I lost ten pounds since Monday, Sept. 8, from 364 to 354. The complex set of calculations that yield what is called my Body Mass Index say I am now only 46.6 percent fat compared with the previous 47.9 percent total. My blood pressure was an enviable 118 over 79. Woohoo! I even moved to the right edge of an acceptable heart rate at 100.

Intrusions on my schedule and other interruptions made me wonder whether I might be able to keep to better nutrition patterns. At a few points during the past week, my 1500-calorie per day diet goal went way crazy. I suppose that happens, but I worried that I might lose positive momentum. The two days of heavy rain, which provided ample excuse to suspend my usual walk, gave me pause, too. I try to clock at least three miles worth of steps during an average day. I only logged 0.7 miles (1164 steps) on Friday, and an embarrassingly few 0.2  miles (388 steps), the next day.

This morning. I continue to have energy for this journey, a positive mental attitude, a willingness to ask for God's help, and a new week begins. The sun rose and I can't wait to walk to the nearby park. Like I said in a previous post, the distance probably means little to those of you who are runners, or even have good legs. I am poised to keep a rein on the calories this week. I have found solace in two restaurants that provide the best Lemon Grass and Egg Drop Wonton soups in the area. Also, I will make a few extra visits to higi. That's better.

The Gift of Being Patient

Today was one of those days that gets in the way of itself. I did not have time for a morning walk. I hoped to do it in the afternoon, but those chances were shredded by the demands of others' schedules. patience. Today was a good time to exercise that gift.

Created by the author with shareasimage

Years ago, as I entered a path toward more mental and spiritual harmony and balance, I read, "One moment of patience can save a life. A moment of impatience can destroy one."  I try to fight against the forces that spoiled my healthy routine, yet I lose.  Somewhere in the back of my thoughts a serene voice softly whispers, "patience." The word comes from Latin, and means to suffer or endure. The French writer Alexandre Dumas went so far as to say, "All human wisdom is summed up in two words, wait and hope." For me, that is a spiritual exercise.

I never had much patience in my youth, because I was a stickler for order. A day like the one I experienced today - where most activities roll outside my control - would have sent me into a tail spin. But the gift to tamp one's enthusiasm, or angst, is vital.

The results that I have experienced thus far on this journey to physical, mental and spiritual harmony and balance sometime make me anxious. I want to see the promised changes occur as quickly as possible, and sometimes forget my path is a road, not a highway. My new life habits will stick at times, and at times get broken. When I endure the breaks and come back, the strength of patience is clear. I have learned to wait as I hope.

From here on

The first step on a journey is usually in front of you, but that seemingly simple feat only works well when you know where you are going. I don't. Just as the canary stares pensively at the chessboard, I spent the past week or so on what to say, and learned that only the truth will suffice.

I am fat. That is more than just something to say. According to calculations by a higi machine, a digital fitness device at the place where I go to check my weight, I am nearly 49 percent body fat. To fitness experts that means I am morbidly obese, which a 2007 Rand study marked as  three times the growth rate of other kinds of U.S. weight issues. Obesity might be medically bad, but it is not the reason I am making this journey.

I am not on a program to lose weight. Dropping pounds is about as useful as putting a fresh coat of paint on a termite-ridden house. The things that fester beneath the surface will still bring down the structure. My goal is to paint what can stand, rip out what is rotten and replace the parts that are outdated. The journey is about the struggle to be a new person, not a fixed-up version of the old.

Even as I wrote those words, now I have the concept. I know what to tell you from here on - about going to someplace in my heart, mind, body, and soul that I have never seen.

Welcome aboard.

A Little Catch Up

Dr. Lin always managed a smile. I marveled at her ability to do that, because when we met, I was probably as sour as she was pleasant. How we came to the point in our relationship that birthed this blog is a longer story than your patience, or my interest will allow me to chronicle at this point. You are promised a journey toward better physical, mental and spiritual harmony and balance. To talk about where we've been will only delay the story. That is why I decided to add a little catch up to alter the flavor and pace of the events.

You might have an interest from the day I first stopped in Health Food City and where I have come. I would, yet please forgive the leap.

The more Dr. Lin worked on my body, the greater change I noticed in my mind. As the pain in the legs began to subside, my thoughts cleared. I became more calm and felt more assured. That was the first real hint of the connections between body, mind and spirit. Those are the connections I will explore in this blog.

Most of the time, I will write about a weight loss program I started about a month ago to up the progress toward the goal. I will talk about the physical, mental and spiritual challenges connected with the effort. This is the beginning. From there, comes what I hope you find to be a interesting tale.

A Sign in the Window

I recently read a blistering condemnation from a writer who claimed, or joked,  that he travelled to several cities and towns, large and small across the nation. In every place, he intently went to check out streets named for the late Human Rights leader and American icon, Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., and all he found on those thoroughfares was run-down buildings and houses, trash, graffiti, urban blight, poverty, traffic congestion and general social and economic depression. His observation might have been in jest, but it is not funny...or universally true.

I drove along Orlando, Florida's Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd. (aka Route 50 or Colonial Drive) a couple days a week on and off for more than a year with that writer's

comments on my mind. I had long discounted the accuracy of his survey, even though I

had to admit there is some evidence throughout the country for support. I noticed the section of the road named after King was in a part of the city that flourished in commerce and different kinds of people. Every time I drove through the section some people call Little Vietnam, I noticed the words "Dr. Grace Lin," on a sign in the window. 

I must have driven past that sign for six months. In the U.S. we learn to ignore signs, mostly because there are so many that scream all sorts of pretensions. This one spoke of an acupuncturist who was also a doctor. I won't pretend that my knowledge of the health field is deep, and I already have a platoon of Western MDs, yet I wondered if Dr. Grace Lin might be a genuine practitioner of Eastern medicine, a healer.  One day, I finally gathered the courage and time to stop by the small Health Food City storefront. The lady behind the counter, who I now know as Alice, puttered with herbal mixes as she listened to my inquiry. 

I stumbled through the explanation of how I once lived in China, and went to a traditional doctor, and wanted to find a healer who had a knowledge of the traditional arts. 

"Does Dr. Lin know anything about traditional medicine, I asked.

Annie looked up over the slender, square black rims of her glasses with a look like she was face to face with a crazy person. After all, I walk into a place that lists the word "doctor," I can see shelves and cabinets labled in Chinese, Vietnamese and English with a vast array of natural medicinals. 

 "Man, you tell me whether you think you are in the right place," her glare said. "I don't know what to tell you, or what you really want." 

She looked up over her glasses and said the doctor was away for two weeks.

"I'll come back," I said.

"Sure," said Annie without a glance. "You come back when doctor is here."

I walked out with a firm resolution to return. I was at the bottom of a deep, deep well filled with pain, depression and despair. I had spent the past year or so, awash in the mess. I did not know if anything or anyone could improve my situation, but that is what you do when there is nothing left to lose - something. I decided to do some thing the minute I parked, walked into the shop to inquire about the doctor.

I was bothered by the fact that she was not immediately available. I even thought to take the absence as a sign that God wanted me to give up, remain steeped in a morass of pity and subliminal rage. I confess, there was a certain comfort in that miserable space, yet I have always been a person who seeks out more. I knew if I did not return I might never find out whether my useful life was really finished, or could there be more. 

I left Health Food City with a silent vow in my mind to meet the doctor. I did, but not for months.