Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
When the Fault Lies in Myself, All That's Left is to Walk
The morning air has a hint of cool. I don’t know if that means the driest and hottest parts of summer are over, but the slight breeze felt wonderful when I walked the garbage to the curb. I took a long draw into my lungs. The blend of the oxygen with tinges of a temp similar to that in the main part of the refrigerator made me want to walk to the park. Then, a thought of work, and some other feeling deep, deep inside, somewhere beyond my conscious will, prodded me to walk back into the house.
I might have forgotten about the experience, even though the failure to launch to exercise has happened a lot since December. Before that, there were times when I walked as much as four or five miles in a day. That was when I a cardiologist joined my squad of doctors.Afterwards, I walked to the park a couple of times. Then, I stopped. I cannot tie the two together - heart problems and a lack of desire to even take a short walk.
Anyway, I briefly kicked the question around in my head until I found an article, “Five Exercise Myths that are Holding You Back.” The story inspired me to do what I usually do when I cannot work through a problem - write through the confusion.
As many people these days, I thought there was somewhere other than my own free will to place the blame.
Whoa! I told myself. See, the fact that you won’t get up and move around outside the house is not your fault. There is some unseen power that binds you to the easy chair.
Things got better when I glanced at the short feature's last paragraph. "Physical activity is important for everyone, but it can be tough to get started," the author wrote. Ahah! I said to myself. A sympathetic voice. Then, my fantasy crashed. The next line explained that you have to workout nonetheless. "Run with it!" the author wrote.
Yikes! The writer used the "R" word. I haven't run in twenty years.
For not even sixty seconds, my mind drifted to a recent cartoon photo I saw. Bob from the Minions stood surprised. The caption exclaimed, "Exercise? I thought you said, French Fries!"
Anyway, I glanced a second time at the article. The expression on the kid about to lift weights in the photo above matched the feeling in my heart.
Oh...man! I said to myself in that sort of long low whine I get when I know I am wrong. Then I went all Shakespeare on myself. The fault lies in myself, not in my stars. In other words, short of some specific revelation that God wants me welded to an easy chair for my final years on Earth, I have not one reason to give up on exercise. In fact, the article states that no one has an excuse anymore.
By the way, one of the myths that hold people back is a lack of time. The writer says "fagettaboutit!" and offers suggestions on a 10- or 20-minute intense workout. According to the article this type of exercise is the current rage. Well, that is not for me. You have to be in great shape to do those kinds of workouts. Then again, even as I write those words, I wonder whether its a "chicken and the egg" conundrum - you have to be in great shape for a high intensity workout, but extreme exercise might put you in better shape. Anyway, none of that is outside my realm. Remember, I can barely work up the will to stand.
Last week, I got a doctor's permission to use the exercise room at a senior center. They have treadmills. I was enthusiastic until the time came to go to orientation. I passed, and felt kind of bad about the lack of fortitude, until I saw what the "Five Myths" article said about calories and treadmills. Ok, I thought. I can do that. You know, walk and burn calories by the basket full. I was almost mentally out of the chair when I read, "Everyone burns different amounts of calories, depending on body weight, metabolism and effort expended. There is no one-size-fits-all 400 calorie workout."
You might as well go back to walking in your neighborhood, I told myself. An indoor treadmill is a blessing for rainy days, but it is not a magic carpet.
In the end, I guess the article does not have what I sought - a place to keep hiding from the steady, one-foot-in-front-of-the-other grind that comes with some form of daily exercise. The next orientation session at the senior center is on Wednesday. I might go this time. The odds are pretty good that later today I might walk to the park.
I might have forgotten about the experience, even though the failure to launch to exercise has happened a lot since December. Before that, there were times when I walked as much as four or five miles in a day. That was when I a cardiologist joined my squad of doctors.Afterwards, I walked to the park a couple of times. Then, I stopped. I cannot tie the two together - heart problems and a lack of desire to even take a short walk.
 |
| The look on his face matches mine at the thought of a workout. |
As many people these days, I thought there was somewhere other than my own free will to place the blame.
Whoa! I told myself. See, the fact that you won’t get up and move around outside the house is not your fault. There is some unseen power that binds you to the easy chair.
Things got better when I glanced at the short feature's last paragraph. "Physical activity is important for everyone, but it can be tough to get started," the author wrote. Ahah! I said to myself. A sympathetic voice. Then, my fantasy crashed. The next line explained that you have to workout nonetheless. "Run with it!" the author wrote.
Yikes! The writer used the "R" word. I haven't run in twenty years.
For not even sixty seconds, my mind drifted to a recent cartoon photo I saw. Bob from the Minions stood surprised. The caption exclaimed, "Exercise? I thought you said, French Fries!"
Anyway, I glanced a second time at the article. The expression on the kid about to lift weights in the photo above matched the feeling in my heart.
Oh...man! I said to myself in that sort of long low whine I get when I know I am wrong. Then I went all Shakespeare on myself. The fault lies in myself, not in my stars. In other words, short of some specific revelation that God wants me welded to an easy chair for my final years on Earth, I have not one reason to give up on exercise. In fact, the article states that no one has an excuse anymore.
By the way, one of the myths that hold people back is a lack of time. The writer says "fagettaboutit!" and offers suggestions on a 10- or 20-minute intense workout. According to the article this type of exercise is the current rage. Well, that is not for me. You have to be in great shape to do those kinds of workouts. Then again, even as I write those words, I wonder whether its a "chicken and the egg" conundrum - you have to be in great shape for a high intensity workout, but extreme exercise might put you in better shape. Anyway, none of that is outside my realm. Remember, I can barely work up the will to stand.
Last week, I got a doctor's permission to use the exercise room at a senior center. They have treadmills. I was enthusiastic until the time came to go to orientation. I passed, and felt kind of bad about the lack of fortitude, until I saw what the "Five Myths" article said about calories and treadmills. Ok, I thought. I can do that. You know, walk and burn calories by the basket full. I was almost mentally out of the chair when I read, "Everyone burns different amounts of calories, depending on body weight, metabolism and effort expended. There is no one-size-fits-all 400 calorie workout."
You might as well go back to walking in your neighborhood, I told myself. An indoor treadmill is a blessing for rainy days, but it is not a magic carpet.
In the end, I guess the article does not have what I sought - a place to keep hiding from the steady, one-foot-in-front-of-the-other grind that comes with some form of daily exercise. The next orientation session at the senior center is on Wednesday. I might go this time. The odds are pretty good that later today I might walk to the park.
Sunday, July 26, 2015
Don't Stress Over the Current Social Mess
A close friend is in a meltdown. Tension rides my friend’s shoulders like a brace of boulders. She is not alone. I feel the pressure, too.
After days of news coverage, discussions and debate on the incidents, police officials' shrugging shoulders, politicians promises of investigations, grand juries that withhold indictments, most people have a right to be stressed. My friend's came clear to me through three emails with background on the
case of Sandra Bland who committed suicide in a Texas county jail. She is bothered by the unanswered questions, feelings of helplessness in the face of power, fear of a similar fate, and sympathy for the victims of police.
"Here is even more information that needs to be heard," she wrote in an evaluation of the video of the traffic stop that sparked the incident. "Ms Bland is talking fast and furious because she is now afraid for her life and the cop keeps ramping up the insults, then lies about trying to calm her down, when he just keeps adding insult and injury to this lady without ever answering her question about why she is being treated in this manner... Can't anybody see that he is terrorizing her, deliberately?"
That is why I can imagine, as to me the current social environment leaves her with nothing but stress headaches and fatigue. I see the same reactions in many people every day.
According to medical experts, at any given time as many as 80 percent of Americans have tension headaches for various reasons. I will elaborate on that in a moment. However, like those tied to the BLACK LIVES MATTER debates their cause are usually tightened muscles in the back of the neck or scalp, especially related to depression, anxiety or mental stress. That is a result of the struggle to maintain hope.
Now, doctors say tension headaches are also caused by lack of rest, poor posture, anxiety, fatigue, hunger, and overexertion. No doubt! Writing those words made me tired. Throw in everyday activities such as driving, writing and cell phone use, and there is little wonder I and so many other people are stressed.
The pain spurred by faulty posture while driving, computing and using cell phones, is as well known the lyrics to an old song, The problem is that many people forget the tune, or like me blank out the message as time wears on. Care2.com hosts an article “Unknowingly Stressing Your Back,” that offers good tips to those who don't know the song, and gives those who forgot the tune a great reminder. That eases some of what ails us.
There is no quick fix for the tensions from caused by mental or emotional stress and depression.There is only hope, which is easier to summon if you have faith. Many studies show that faith helps.
Three years ago, the American Journal of Psychiatry reported that subjects tied to Catholic and mainline Protestants who told researchers that religion is very important had a 76 percent less chance of experiencing major depression. Those ideas need more in-depth study, but in many researchers find that belief is a key factor in mental health. If you want to know more, check out, this article on faith and stress. Those who want to work out issues and feelings about the American social environment without religion might want to take a page from Stress Management experts on how to adapt to stressors, the frequent causes of emotional or mental stress and depression.
They suggest we reframe the problem, look at the big picture, adjust our standards and focus on the positive. Those are good ideas, but might not offer much to people like my friend. One of the best pieces of advice from those in that field is what I always say, “Don’t try to control the uncontrollable.”
As I often tell people, "You can only do what you can do." Given the nation’s current state, there are likely to be more seemingly senseless black deaths at the hands of police. I do not make the laws, so my responsibility is to write letters, sign petitions, march in protests, and continue to talk about the feelings and questions spurred by the news. Those actions make me feel less helpless. They might help you, too. In any event those things will stir public debate on the issues and poke those who make or serve the laws to act. Beyond that, a look at the big picture is scary.
Injustice and sense killings are a part of the national heritage that has stalked African Americans for centuries. The only way to find a means to hope when faced with that fact is to embrace a view rooted in the confidence of visionaries such as the late Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. He said, “The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” I believe hold onto that, because the concept is logical, which fights hysteria, which only deepens depression. If we panic in the present and surrender to the often touted belief that the arc of our future bends toward chaos, we will be lost to a sickness curable only by death.
 |
| Photo by murdersick_andre |
case of Sandra Bland who committed suicide in a Texas county jail. She is bothered by the unanswered questions, feelings of helplessness in the face of power, fear of a similar fate, and sympathy for the victims of police.
"Here is even more information that needs to be heard," she wrote in an evaluation of the video of the traffic stop that sparked the incident. "Ms Bland is talking fast and furious because she is now afraid for her life and the cop keeps ramping up the insults, then lies about trying to calm her down, when he just keeps adding insult and injury to this lady without ever answering her question about why she is being treated in this manner... Can't anybody see that he is terrorizing her, deliberately?"
That is why I can imagine, as to me the current social environment leaves her with nothing but stress headaches and fatigue. I see the same reactions in many people every day.
According to medical experts, at any given time as many as 80 percent of Americans have tension headaches for various reasons. I will elaborate on that in a moment. However, like those tied to the BLACK LIVES MATTER debates their cause are usually tightened muscles in the back of the neck or scalp, especially related to depression, anxiety or mental stress. That is a result of the struggle to maintain hope.
Now, doctors say tension headaches are also caused by lack of rest, poor posture, anxiety, fatigue, hunger, and overexertion. No doubt! Writing those words made me tired. Throw in everyday activities such as driving, writing and cell phone use, and there is little wonder I and so many other people are stressed.
The pain spurred by faulty posture while driving, computing and using cell phones, is as well known the lyrics to an old song, The problem is that many people forget the tune, or like me blank out the message as time wears on. Care2.com hosts an article “Unknowingly Stressing Your Back,” that offers good tips to those who don't know the song, and gives those who forgot the tune a great reminder. That eases some of what ails us.
There is no quick fix for the tensions from caused by mental or emotional stress and depression.There is only hope, which is easier to summon if you have faith. Many studies show that faith helps.
Three years ago, the American Journal of Psychiatry reported that subjects tied to Catholic and mainline Protestants who told researchers that religion is very important had a 76 percent less chance of experiencing major depression. Those ideas need more in-depth study, but in many researchers find that belief is a key factor in mental health. If you want to know more, check out, this article on faith and stress. Those who want to work out issues and feelings about the American social environment without religion might want to take a page from Stress Management experts on how to adapt to stressors, the frequent causes of emotional or mental stress and depression.
They suggest we reframe the problem, look at the big picture, adjust our standards and focus on the positive. Those are good ideas, but might not offer much to people like my friend. One of the best pieces of advice from those in that field is what I always say, “Don’t try to control the uncontrollable.”
As I often tell people, "You can only do what you can do." Given the nation’s current state, there are likely to be more seemingly senseless black deaths at the hands of police. I do not make the laws, so my responsibility is to write letters, sign petitions, march in protests, and continue to talk about the feelings and questions spurred by the news. Those actions make me feel less helpless. They might help you, too. In any event those things will stir public debate on the issues and poke those who make or serve the laws to act. Beyond that, a look at the big picture is scary.
Injustice and sense killings are a part of the national heritage that has stalked African Americans for centuries. The only way to find a means to hope when faced with that fact is to embrace a view rooted in the confidence of visionaries such as the late Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. He said, “The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” I believe hold onto that, because the concept is logical, which fights hysteria, which only deepens depression. If we panic in the present and surrender to the often touted belief that the arc of our future bends toward chaos, we will be lost to a sickness curable only by death.
Friday, July 24, 2015
Its a Matter of Bounce
The next time someone says, "You can be anything that you imagine." Believe them. In fact, recently I realized that often the way you see yourself broadcasts what others can see in you.
There are lots of ways to imagine yourself. Some people see themselves as a project, pulled together piece by piece to build something they envision. Others view their themselves as a mystery story that unfolds minute by minute based on a string of clues. Usually, folks like that don't have a clue as to where they are going, or what they are about to do, but they enjoy being the main character. Others' perspectives vary as widely as imagination itself. In plain, for everyone, how you imagine yourself is up to you, and likely what you see is going to be you.
Well, I’m a rubber ball, not as fancy as the one in the photo. I am the simple kind used for handball or racquetball - a rubber, seamless sphere, only a few inches in diameter. I would say that I see myself as only a little over two ounces, but this is about imagination, not delusion. I
identify with that object because these days much of my time is spent in efforts to learn to bounce back. Spiritually, mentally, physically, there is a lot of ground to cover. In each area circumstances wrought by me or someone else slam me into walls...of doubt, of pain, of fear, of ignorance, and frequently weariness. As most people, I find myself in those conditions, but recently my goal is to emerge undefeated.
Most people do not give much thought to the wonder of that little ball. The ball itself seems a thoughtless object. Someone slams it into a wall, or an obstacle, with different levels of force. The sphere rebounds in ways that are unpredictable. The ball flies off the wall or other obstruction at random speeds and odd angles, which I accept and enjoy as a surprise. Often, when I hot a wall, I cannot predict what will come next. Do me a favor - if you know, do not tell me. I live for the surprise.
Now, mt life as a ball is not for everyone. I know that many people cannot stand the unpredictable. They want to know what happens next. They want to plan. When they see a ball like me, they ask ask questions like:
If you hit the ball at ground level toward the wall with a speed of 12 meters per second, at an angle of 20 degrees above the horizontal, how long does it take for the ball to reach the wall if it is 6.2 meters away?
Believe me, when you are the ball, the amount of time before you hit the wall becomes the least of your concerns. I am fascinated by how and where I and others bounce back. I am in awe at the variety of ways we come away from the obstructions in life. We lose a job. A better one comes along. Someone faces "ruination," and opens an opportunity toward an as yet unseen career. Money slides out the door, and walks right back in. Somehow, every day loss is replaced in a turn of events that renders the despair that once came with into unimportance, because being a ball is a lesson in love. The ball bounces again and again, because its nature is to endure hardship and rebound. The nature of a ball is resilience. In plain speak, it does what it does, because it exists., and so do I. Love teaches me to be patient, have faith, hope and endure, and through those things I live.
Its like the author of First Corinthians explains, “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” If I love God, I have to love what I am. If I truly do love myself, then it is little to ask me to be patient with me, to believe in me, to hope that what I want will be fulfilled, and to endure the rough patches along the way.
In the five months since I last wrote here, I have grown in the belief that love surrounds me. In fact, it surrounds every one of us, if you can believe it. That growth makes me affirm new habits. I will not panic and despair in the present. I await the future. I can do that because I believe that I my destiny is to loved, if only by God/ That is why the story of my life cannot have a sad conclusion. So, I choose to hang with whatever comes at me every day. When something slams me into a wall I pause, keep faith with my dreams, endure, and then find a way to bounce back like that ball. That will happen at different speeds and in different directions. Keep an eye on me. Await the surprise.
There are lots of ways to imagine yourself. Some people see themselves as a project, pulled together piece by piece to build something they envision. Others view their themselves as a mystery story that unfolds minute by minute based on a string of clues. Usually, folks like that don't have a clue as to where they are going, or what they are about to do, but they enjoy being the main character. Others' perspectives vary as widely as imagination itself. In plain, for everyone, how you imagine yourself is up to you, and likely what you see is going to be you.
Well, I’m a rubber ball, not as fancy as the one in the photo. I am the simple kind used for handball or racquetball - a rubber, seamless sphere, only a few inches in diameter. I would say that I see myself as only a little over two ounces, but this is about imagination, not delusion. I
Most people do not give much thought to the wonder of that little ball. The ball itself seems a thoughtless object. Someone slams it into a wall, or an obstacle, with different levels of force. The sphere rebounds in ways that are unpredictable. The ball flies off the wall or other obstruction at random speeds and odd angles, which I accept and enjoy as a surprise. Often, when I hot a wall, I cannot predict what will come next. Do me a favor - if you know, do not tell me. I live for the surprise.
Now, mt life as a ball is not for everyone. I know that many people cannot stand the unpredictable. They want to know what happens next. They want to plan. When they see a ball like me, they ask ask questions like:
If you hit the ball at ground level toward the wall with a speed of 12 meters per second, at an angle of 20 degrees above the horizontal, how long does it take for the ball to reach the wall if it is 6.2 meters away?
Believe me, when you are the ball, the amount of time before you hit the wall becomes the least of your concerns. I am fascinated by how and where I and others bounce back. I am in awe at the variety of ways we come away from the obstructions in life. We lose a job. A better one comes along. Someone faces "ruination," and opens an opportunity toward an as yet unseen career. Money slides out the door, and walks right back in. Somehow, every day loss is replaced in a turn of events that renders the despair that once came with into unimportance, because being a ball is a lesson in love. The ball bounces again and again, because its nature is to endure hardship and rebound. The nature of a ball is resilience. In plain speak, it does what it does, because it exists., and so do I. Love teaches me to be patient, have faith, hope and endure, and through those things I live.
Its like the author of First Corinthians explains, “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” If I love God, I have to love what I am. If I truly do love myself, then it is little to ask me to be patient with me, to believe in me, to hope that what I want will be fulfilled, and to endure the rough patches along the way.
In the five months since I last wrote here, I have grown in the belief that love surrounds me. In fact, it surrounds every one of us, if you can believe it. That growth makes me affirm new habits. I will not panic and despair in the present. I await the future. I can do that because I believe that I my destiny is to loved, if only by God/ That is why the story of my life cannot have a sad conclusion. So, I choose to hang with whatever comes at me every day. When something slams me into a wall I pause, keep faith with my dreams, endure, and then find a way to bounce back like that ball. That will happen at different speeds and in different directions. Keep an eye on me. Await the surprise.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
The Keys to My Success
For important changes, I do what I do, giving almost no thought to what I do. If I think too much about some decisions, I would not make them. On those matters, I do not try. I - as fictional Jedi wise man Yoda says - do. That is why I was amused by what a CNN article urges for those who want success in business and my quest for more mental, physical and spiritual balance and harmony.
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| Change can make one unsure which door to open |
When I weighed so much that a scale groans at my step, the idea that I might someday lose enough pounds to improve that condition seems laughable. Even when to drop pounds might mean life or death, diet and exercise can seem too much to ask. So, I did not.
As I once wrote, I never asked myself to lose weight or change eating habits. I do. I exercise for its own sake. If the weight drops away, I take it as gravy on meat and potatoes. I don't weigh everyday, as some experts suggest. I wait for the doctor to give me the totals. If the news is good. I do more. If not, I work exercise more.
I do not starve myself, or eat fake foods that taste like wallpaper laced with dirt. I cut back on portions and if practical avoid bread and red meats. I let my body, mind and spirit take control. They work together to help me adapt to the rigorous routine of my life.
When I meet roadblocks in the set goals, I shift, but keep sight of the mark. As you might read in the article linked above, successful entrepreneurs are never afraid to try a different approach when something does not work. I do the same.
As I once wrote, I never asked myself to lose weight or change eating habits. I do. I exercise for its own sake. If the weight drops away, I take it as gravy on meat and potatoes. I don't weigh everyday, as some experts suggest. I wait for the doctor to give me the totals. If the news is good. I do more. If not, I work exercise more.
I do not starve myself, or eat fake foods that taste like wallpaper laced with dirt. I cut back on portions and if practical avoid bread and red meats. I let my body, mind and spirit take control. They work together to help me adapt to the rigorous routine of my life.
When I meet roadblocks in the set goals, I shift, but keep sight of the mark. As you might read in the article linked above, successful entrepreneurs are never afraid to try a different approach when something does not work. I do the same.
There are so many pieces of advice and experts on health and whole living afloat in today's media. If I tried to keep up with every theory, or followed the latest trend, my focus on the quest would scatter. Instead, I adapt to what seems practical at the moment. For example, I began to walk each morning along a path that drained two, sometimes three hours or more out of the day. The long exercise period seemed to drain the energy from the rest of the day. Also, when my calendar was busy, time often forced me to put aside the walk because it took too long. The lack of consistency tempted me to toss in the towel on exercise and drop the routine. Instead, I staked out a two-mile route closer to home that can be leisurely completed in an hour. The change furthers my goal, but I am still forced to deal with risks.
From the moment the journey began, I have risked my health, image, peace of mind, lifestyle, and comfort. I abandoned the safety and security of victimhood as a morbidly overweight, miserable, depressed, weary man with at least five serious illnesses. With the first step I made a move toward... the unknown. Some people would be paralyzed by such a risk. I do not know if where the journey will take me is better than the physical and mental limitations that mired my past existence. I do not know if what lies ahead is better or can make me more fulfilled. I just imagined the more and started a journey. I am not confident I will get to where I imagine I might go, but I am certain I will be far from where I have been.
Confidence is like a box of chocolates. To open an empty container is sad, so you have to start with some pieces of promise, even if all that is left are the sampled cast offs and rejects. I had to convince myself that I am worthy of salvation.
A few years ago, I was convinced that death was the only stop ahead on the road of my life. With the help of a few loyal friends and kind strangers, I forced myself to look away from others' impressions of me. I tuned out negative predictions. I pushed the "Kevorkians" out of my circles, then seized responsibility for who I am and what I choose to be.
I let many strangers, or friends that I had not met yet, drop sweet bits of solace, encouragement and wisdom in my "chocolate box." Those good experiences continue to fuel the journey.
When the image in the mirror is not what my mind knows can be, I seek the strength to trust. That leads to the task which is hardest for me. The person I most distrust is me.
I find it tough to believe in myself on this quest. Sometimes, I feel way over my head. I know other people have done what I seek and more, but doubt whether I can. I doubt the compliments and supportive words of others, lest I succumb to flattery. I worry about whether I will betray the goals. I become impatient with myself, particularly when changes do not come swiftly. For example, when I lose eight or ten pounds over the course of a month, I beat myself up inside and think, You should lose that much in a week.
A few years ago, I was convinced that death was the only stop ahead on the road of my life. With the help of a few loyal friends and kind strangers, I forced myself to look away from others' impressions of me. I tuned out negative predictions. I pushed the "Kevorkians" out of my circles, then seized responsibility for who I am and what I choose to be.
I let many strangers, or friends that I had not met yet, drop sweet bits of solace, encouragement and wisdom in my "chocolate box." Those good experiences continue to fuel the journey.
When the image in the mirror is not what my mind knows can be, I seek the strength to trust. That leads to the task which is hardest for me. The person I most distrust is me.
I find it tough to believe in myself on this quest. Sometimes, I feel way over my head. I know other people have done what I seek and more, but doubt whether I can. I doubt the compliments and supportive words of others, lest I succumb to flattery. I worry about whether I will betray the goals. I become impatient with myself, particularly when changes do not come swiftly. For example, when I lose eight or ten pounds over the course of a month, I beat myself up inside and think, You should lose that much in a week.
When people walk up to me, smile and say, "You are looking thinner." My mouth says, "Thanks!" My mind says, Right. C'mon, stop kidding!
I get nervous that the quest and the recollections in this blog might make me look foolish. Living out loud is not my usual habit. That is when I look into my mind's eye and ask, "Really?" Then, I realize that what happens in this project does not bank entirely on self-trust. Mostly, the success depends on my trust in the God who made me.
Saturday, February 28, 2015
The Death of "Spock," Again
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| Leonard Nimoy (1931-2015) |
Back to where this started -- Spock has lived, died and lived more than one life before. Paramount Studios, maker of the Star Trek films, killed off the character Spock, in "The Wrath of Khan," the second in a series of now 11 big-screen films. The then-Vulcan science officer on the Starship Enterprise sacrificed himself at the end of the film because, as that script nobly repeats several times, "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one." Anyway, the character dies in the 1982 film, but the producers misread the needs of the fans, and what Spock represented in the American psyche. That is why, in 1984, the third film, which Nimoy also directed, was tagged, "The Search for Spock,"an aptly dubbed search-and-rescue saga.
I grieve the death of Leonard Nimoy, but not just as a fan of the television, film, animation, and novel series. The character which was a first on television in this country made me unashamed to embrace the embrace the emotionally controlled, rational, and logical spirit - the "Spock" - in me. More than that, I hope that someday many more people on this planet will show the traits the character so ably conveyed. We need more people to take on that posture instead of the passion-driven, purposeless, violent stances seemingly prevalent throughout the globe in in the 21st Century.
Those traits came to me as the result of an education in the Classics. Most Americans will disagree, but I wish today's high school and college students would still be pushed to study languages, Philosophy, History, the Arts, and Social Sciences instead of just Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics. STEM will make young people become better cogs in a transnational money-making machine, but those who come through the education pipeline without even a faint familiarity with Classic deeds, contributions and artifacts of Global civilizations are likely to lose their souls. Nimoy's Spock contributed soul.
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| Quinto's Spock |
Nimoy's Spock was part of a race of people named after the Roman god of fire, Vulcan. Since the television series debuted during the late 1960s, a time when the United States was embroiled in a bloody conflict in Southeast Asia, his character often pointed out and criticized humanity's suicidal tendencies. Vulcan was nearly destroyed by the temptation to yield to the hearts' dictates without critical thought. Perhaps that is why Roddenberry had them not say "goodbye," as humans do upon departure. Vulcan's say, "Live long and prosper."
The people of Vulcan came to understand that passion without logic can only yield unbridled violence. As Pope Paul VI once explained in his writings Peace on Earth can only truly emerge from the will to see all human life preserved and prosperous. As mentioned, I learned the same things reading human history, philosophy, ancient languages, and through the study of art and music. I remain puzzled why it seems that so few others people these days grasp the same understanding.
I see passion without logic everyday in the alleged acts of the self-proclaimed, Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL), as well as the covert drone wars of the United States. The tragic formula is evident in the Ferguson, Missouri riots' irrational rage, and the racially insensitive, inflexibility of the St. Louis County law enforcement. The pattern was in the "preemptive strike" policy of former President George W. Bush's administration, sadly echoed by the mandates of President Barack Obama.
Unbridled passion, irrational fear and disjointed logic destroy mental, physical and spiritual harmony and balance. Sadly those negative traits have woven into the fabric of life on this planet. Perhaps, as people read this, remember Leonard Nimoy, or search for Spock, those of good will be inspired to pause the violence and other evils that result from rage fed by fear and illogic, and consider, "Where does this gets us?"
The future of ourselves and the Earth will be the result of human will. Violence and fear are choices, not part of human nature. Like the mythical Vulcans, at any point Humans can turn the corner and choose to life and prosperity for all.
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Man of Iron
The moniker "Man of Steel" is legendary as it refers to Superman. The three-word phrase became the brand for the comic book hero who came to Earth from a dying world to defend every form of life.
Man of Iron?
Well, my 5-year-old grandson would validate the impact of Marvel films on the human knowledge base and immediately shout, "That's Tony Stark!" He would think I mean Iron Man.
Wrong. I refer to me. Despite the comic fiction, human blood is filled with iron, or it should be. That is what enables our bodies to "breathe." During the past three months I learned a little bit about why the boy might see more iron in the fictional Stark than me.
The many sorrowful gazes I gleaned from medical technicians during my long absence from this blog usually came with a simple, three-word utterance, "You are anemic." In short, the iron that should be in me is depleted. Perhaps the mineral is not completely gone in my system, but shot to such low levels that the people who know about health are given pause.
Welcome to the world of a Man of Iron whose blood finds the mineral a few pints low. I don't know enough about iron poor blood to take on the wary gaze. I experience the results - lack of energy, shortness of breath, headaches, dizziness and irritability - which is just as troublesome. More scary is the knowledge that I am not alone.
According to the World Health Organization, 80 percent of the people on the planet have some sort of iron deficit. The essential mineral helps make hemoglobin and myoglobin, proteins that carry oxygen to the blood. I am a meat-eater, and surprised the habit does not provide enough iron to my system. According to government standards, a male older than 19 only needs 8 milligrams per day. Nonetheless, during the past few months I have endured the sad looks at the news of my lack of iron.
Meanwhile, I have checked out a few ways to fight back. A recent article on Vegan health suggested Vitamin C as an aid, because it helps the body to absorb iron. More than that, the piece listed a variety of plant-based sources for iron. Those include:
Aside from what to add, the article echoed Dr. Lin, who more than a year ago advised me to cast aside tea, coffee and dairy. Chemical compounds in the warm beverages called polyphenols bind with iron, which works against iron absorption. High calcium foods such as yogurt, ice cream and cheese eaten within an hour of iron-rich foods do the same thing.
In the end, iron-poor blood weakens my body, mind and spirit, but not my resolve to continue the journey at the heart of this blog. My quest remains to better balance and harmony in mind, body and spirit. I intend to work on the problem until the day when I can ask my grandson, "Who is the Man of Iron?" and he will answer, "You."
Man of Iron?
Well, my 5-year-old grandson would validate the impact of Marvel films on the human knowledge base and immediately shout, "That's Tony Stark!" He would think I mean Iron Man.Wrong. I refer to me. Despite the comic fiction, human blood is filled with iron, or it should be. That is what enables our bodies to "breathe." During the past three months I learned a little bit about why the boy might see more iron in the fictional Stark than me.
The many sorrowful gazes I gleaned from medical technicians during my long absence from this blog usually came with a simple, three-word utterance, "You are anemic." In short, the iron that should be in me is depleted. Perhaps the mineral is not completely gone in my system, but shot to such low levels that the people who know about health are given pause.
Welcome to the world of a Man of Iron whose blood finds the mineral a few pints low. I don't know enough about iron poor blood to take on the wary gaze. I experience the results - lack of energy, shortness of breath, headaches, dizziness and irritability - which is just as troublesome. More scary is the knowledge that I am not alone.
According to the World Health Organization, 80 percent of the people on the planet have some sort of iron deficit. The essential mineral helps make hemoglobin and myoglobin, proteins that carry oxygen to the blood. I am a meat-eater, and surprised the habit does not provide enough iron to my system. According to government standards, a male older than 19 only needs 8 milligrams per day. Nonetheless, during the past few months I have endured the sad looks at the news of my lack of iron.
Meanwhile, I have checked out a few ways to fight back. A recent article on Vegan health suggested Vitamin C as an aid, because it helps the body to absorb iron. More than that, the piece listed a variety of plant-based sources for iron. Those include:
- Tofu (1/2 cup): 6.6 mg
- Spirulina (1 tsp): 5 mg
- Cooked soybeans (1/2 cup): 4.4 mg
- Pumpkin seeds (1 ounce): 4.2 mg
- Quinoa (4 ounces): 4 mg
- Blackstrap molasses (1 tbsp): 4 mg
- Tomato paste (4 ounces): 3.9 mg
- White beans (1/2 cup) 3.9 mg
- Dried apricots (1 cup): 3.5 mg
- Cooked spinach (1/2 cup): 3.2 mg
- Dried peaches (6 halves): 3.1 mg
- Prune juice (8 ounces): 3 mg
- Lentils (4 ounces): 3 mg
- Peas (1 cup): 2.1 mg
Aside from what to add, the article echoed Dr. Lin, who more than a year ago advised me to cast aside tea, coffee and dairy. Chemical compounds in the warm beverages called polyphenols bind with iron, which works against iron absorption. High calcium foods such as yogurt, ice cream and cheese eaten within an hour of iron-rich foods do the same thing.
In the end, iron-poor blood weakens my body, mind and spirit, but not my resolve to continue the journey at the heart of this blog. My quest remains to better balance and harmony in mind, body and spirit. I intend to work on the problem until the day when I can ask my grandson, "Who is the Man of Iron?" and he will answer, "You."
Monday, November 3, 2014
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.
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
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.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
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.
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."
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."
Friday, October 31, 2014
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."
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."
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
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.
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.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
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.
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
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.
Saturday, October 4, 2014
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.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
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.
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.
Monday, September 22, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
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.
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 soups pull me in, and the pounds drop off. |
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.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
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.
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.
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| Created by the author with shareasimage |
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.
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