Thrumming, humming, lub dupping beat of the drum,
Twitching fingers typing out a tap tap beat.
Sense of something significant just beyond the brink,
Superficial or deep?
Alkaloid induced catecholamines pouring over and under,
A bitter bath of liquid memories.
Trapped in the past, phantom chains grabbing at the reigns,
Looking for light in the forest of shadows
Pausing for breath, in the moment connects
The watcher with the wanderer
First a trickle, then a torrent,
an Oasis in the desert.
A subtle shifting of the situation,
Gives reason to go on.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
An object at rest
Static, staid, slumbering
Lacking locomotion
Sitting still and waiting till
An outside force interrupts
Slow, steady, sputtering
Burgeoning direction
In motion and maintaining momentum
As energy efficiently builds
Swift, certain, soaring
Body in motion
Lacking locomotion
Sitting still and waiting till
An outside force interrupts
Slow, steady, sputtering
Burgeoning direction
In motion and maintaining momentum
As energy efficiently builds
Swift, certain, soaring
Body in motion
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Thanks...for giving
With Thursday’s tryptophan infused frenzy starting to wear off I’m noticing a distinctly self-reflective bent to my thought process. After all the talk of thanking and giving it that it is my mind and not my stomach that is refusing to settle. “What am I striving for, and why? Are my aims altruistic or self serving?” And on and on and on.
A recent article in the most current issue of Outside Magazine posited that the marketing tactics used to sell soft drinks and toilet paper should be used to “sell” charities and causes. The reason? People want to feel good when they give. They want the warm-fuzzy feeling that comes from knowing that their $5 bought a book for the little girl with an exotic name. Donating that same $5 to fight something like “AIDS in Africa” doesn’t deliver the same emotional bang for the buck. The AIDS crisis is too big, too difficult, and too mired in dry statistics for most people to really get excited about. While the real need is unquestionably greater, the perceived impact that one person can have is diminished.
That brings me back to me. I’m confident that I really do want to “help people”. But, my own experience with clients tells me that the “lost cause” is much harder to get behind than the “success story”. In such situations I am usually quick to say “I can’t help someone who isn’t will to help themselves”, but I think that is only half of it. The other part of it is “I can only help someone who is helping me.”
I imagine that many people find themselves in situations where they are called to give, of money, time, or themselves, and they subconsciously weigh their emotional balance sheet. With the ideal of “giving freely” and selflessly at stake, it might be uncomfortable to consider selfish giving as the rule rather than the exception, but perhaps it’s a more honest, and not necessarily a wrong, position.
Perhaps in recognizing our deep seated motivations we can more effectively harness our own desire to do good and to feel good about it. Besides, who can argue against feeling like you are making a difference; that you are, in some small way, bringing about change in the world? When looking at a situation that seems utterly bleak and hopeless, zero in on something that is that is tangible and achievable to you. When you’ve successfully done your part, look for the next opportunity, and the next.
You’ll be more willing to make a dent in some of the world’s big problems when you can see your initials in the mark.
A recent article in the most current issue of Outside Magazine posited that the marketing tactics used to sell soft drinks and toilet paper should be used to “sell” charities and causes. The reason? People want to feel good when they give. They want the warm-fuzzy feeling that comes from knowing that their $5 bought a book for the little girl with an exotic name. Donating that same $5 to fight something like “AIDS in Africa” doesn’t deliver the same emotional bang for the buck. The AIDS crisis is too big, too difficult, and too mired in dry statistics for most people to really get excited about. While the real need is unquestionably greater, the perceived impact that one person can have is diminished.
That brings me back to me. I’m confident that I really do want to “help people”. But, my own experience with clients tells me that the “lost cause” is much harder to get behind than the “success story”. In such situations I am usually quick to say “I can’t help someone who isn’t will to help themselves”, but I think that is only half of it. The other part of it is “I can only help someone who is helping me.”
I imagine that many people find themselves in situations where they are called to give, of money, time, or themselves, and they subconsciously weigh their emotional balance sheet. With the ideal of “giving freely” and selflessly at stake, it might be uncomfortable to consider selfish giving as the rule rather than the exception, but perhaps it’s a more honest, and not necessarily a wrong, position.
Perhaps in recognizing our deep seated motivations we can more effectively harness our own desire to do good and to feel good about it. Besides, who can argue against feeling like you are making a difference; that you are, in some small way, bringing about change in the world? When looking at a situation that seems utterly bleak and hopeless, zero in on something that is that is tangible and achievable to you. When you’ve successfully done your part, look for the next opportunity, and the next.
You’ll be more willing to make a dent in some of the world’s big problems when you can see your initials in the mark.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Step away from the hamster wheel
Have you ever tried to lose weight or get in shape? You probably started out by purchasing a new piece of exercise equipment or picking up a copy of the latest “revolutionary” book promising “a new you in 30 days or less”. Next question, are you still trying?
Consider for a moment the fact that the “fitness industry” is based on people trying without ever actually succeeding. If people actually did reach their goals, there would be no “next big thing” and the endless parade of products and promises would have no audience. The marketing of fitness products is ironically no different than that of fast food. No one is really asking for a five-patty hamburger or an “ab lounge”. What people want is the emotion that is being sold.
By selling “manliness” or “attractiveness” companies can generate huge profits while selling inferior products. Whether it is “cheap” plastic or “cheap” meat is immaterial to the corporate shills that see only dollar signs. The cost to our environment, our health, and our future as a species is brushed under the rug as long as the stockholders are happy and expectations for this quarter are met.
The good news is that this system is as solid as a house of cards. By spending some time away from the incessant barrage of messaging and media you give yourself the space to discover what you truly need. Go for a walk in a park or in the woods, play with your kids, or meditate on the silence within. You don’t need any more than what you already have, you might even need less.
And, you might even find that you stop trying and start doing.
Consider for a moment the fact that the “fitness industry” is based on people trying without ever actually succeeding. If people actually did reach their goals, there would be no “next big thing” and the endless parade of products and promises would have no audience. The marketing of fitness products is ironically no different than that of fast food. No one is really asking for a five-patty hamburger or an “ab lounge”. What people want is the emotion that is being sold.
By selling “manliness” or “attractiveness” companies can generate huge profits while selling inferior products. Whether it is “cheap” plastic or “cheap” meat is immaterial to the corporate shills that see only dollar signs. The cost to our environment, our health, and our future as a species is brushed under the rug as long as the stockholders are happy and expectations for this quarter are met.
The good news is that this system is as solid as a house of cards. By spending some time away from the incessant barrage of messaging and media you give yourself the space to discover what you truly need. Go for a walk in a park or in the woods, play with your kids, or meditate on the silence within. You don’t need any more than what you already have, you might even need less.
And, you might even find that you stop trying and start doing.
Friday, November 6, 2009
the swiftness
Errands to run, forget the car! No time to waste; grab wallet, and get…bike…out...the… door. Watch out lizards!
Super Walmart in my sights; can’t believe they sold me this junk. Cheap ain’t cheap when it’s costs so much.
Hit the intersection, hit the button, hit the button, hit the button. Hit and run, not today. Watch out buddy, respect the right of way.
Busting turns, jumping curbs, who wants to drive? Besides, wilderness resides in retention ponds and this old Mc Donald’s never seen a farm. Meanwhile Wal-mart rises up, a cathedral of consumption. The smell, it saturates everything, but the savings, the savings! Everyday their managers are raving about customers and associates complaining.
Escape the asphalt asylum and get back to grey skies and a cool breeze. Pedal as fast as I can and coast through the urban jungle. Summer’s dead and gone; hear fall’s death knell ringing? The underbrush is going brown, bougainvillea with jaundiced leaves line the street and only the golf course is green.
Today I’m freer on two wheels than four and the rules are out the window. Liberally going against the grain, riding against traffic, reckless and half-ecstatic a light pack bouncing against my back. But isn’t it ironic? The Sport’s Authority lacks a rack! “Hey man, do you mind if park this baby inside?”
I’m on the road trading exhaustion for exhilaration, surrendering to the speed, careening down the street, and loving every minute. As soon as the burn hits your legs, it hurts so well. Why not feel real?
Walgreens says halt, but half-off Halloween candy can’t stop this train. Can’t say the same about 24 ounces of energy, and only $2.99!
Look at the little people in little boxes, warped metal and mental. Maybe they’re asleep at the wheel?
Hurry to the homely homestead up ahead. A final push and down to earth, but not for long.
Bike + errands = adventure
Super Walmart in my sights; can’t believe they sold me this junk. Cheap ain’t cheap when it’s costs so much.
Hit the intersection, hit the button, hit the button, hit the button. Hit and run, not today. Watch out buddy, respect the right of way.
Busting turns, jumping curbs, who wants to drive? Besides, wilderness resides in retention ponds and this old Mc Donald’s never seen a farm. Meanwhile Wal-mart rises up, a cathedral of consumption. The smell, it saturates everything, but the savings, the savings! Everyday their managers are raving about customers and associates complaining.
Escape the asphalt asylum and get back to grey skies and a cool breeze. Pedal as fast as I can and coast through the urban jungle. Summer’s dead and gone; hear fall’s death knell ringing? The underbrush is going brown, bougainvillea with jaundiced leaves line the street and only the golf course is green.
Today I’m freer on two wheels than four and the rules are out the window. Liberally going against the grain, riding against traffic, reckless and half-ecstatic a light pack bouncing against my back. But isn’t it ironic? The Sport’s Authority lacks a rack! “Hey man, do you mind if park this baby inside?”
I’m on the road trading exhaustion for exhilaration, surrendering to the speed, careening down the street, and loving every minute. As soon as the burn hits your legs, it hurts so well. Why not feel real?
Walgreens says halt, but half-off Halloween candy can’t stop this train. Can’t say the same about 24 ounces of energy, and only $2.99!
Look at the little people in little boxes, warped metal and mental. Maybe they’re asleep at the wheel?
Hurry to the homely homestead up ahead. A final push and down to earth, but not for long.
Bike + errands = adventure
Friday, October 30, 2009
The sweet science and the bitter pill
“WHAM!” Dazzling lights streaked across my vision and, in a sudden dilation of time, I had the thought “so this is why they call it ‘seeing stars””. Through my blurred vision, I saw my sparring partner mouth the words “Sorry man!” I staggered over to Coach Todd and noticed that he looked worried, which made me worry. “Are you alright?” he asked. Through my mouthpiece I mumbled “You tell me.” Although my right cheek was totally numb, I feared that shock had disguised a much more grievous wound. While my imagination conjured up images of hideous facial trauma, Coach informed me that I was officially “done”. Shaken, I stepped through the ropes and out of the ring. It took all of 30 seconds for me to go from feeling like a champ to chump.
Earlier that day, I had tried to talk myself out of going to the Saturday sparring session at Gym Rat Boxing. With only four hours of sleep and a full day of work under my belt, I was deliriously exhausted. Sensing weakness, my mind took the opportunity to offer up some tempting rationale. “There’s a company picnic today,” it whispered, “You should go network and eat pie”. The machinations of my fearful psyche gradually intensified and I was a hair’s breadth away from succumbing when I had a flash of insight. “Maybe I’m trying to avoid going because I know I need to go!” I silently exclaimed, “I’m resisting the inevitable hand of fate!” My desire to save face with the guys at Gym Rat in addition to my plans for watching the UFC 105 pay-per-view later that night probably had something to do with it too.
My sparring partner “Dave” had encouraged me to take it easy on him because he was an “old man”. While this was an obvious ruse, there was also a glaring hole in my defense that had heretofore gone unnoticed. I had the tendency to hold my right hand a little lower than would be prudent, and with a crisp left hook, Dave made this painfully obvious. Of course, Coach Todd has mentioned this to me before, (“You’re dropping your damn hand!”) but previous sparring partners had not created much of an incentive to really take this advice to heart.
I ended up finishing out the day humbled but determined. Not only did I earn my first-ever black eye, but I also came away with greater self confidence; as a fighter, a husband, an employee, and friend. I walked into the fire and got burned, but I would be back.
Earlier that day, I had tried to talk myself out of going to the Saturday sparring session at Gym Rat Boxing. With only four hours of sleep and a full day of work under my belt, I was deliriously exhausted. Sensing weakness, my mind took the opportunity to offer up some tempting rationale. “There’s a company picnic today,” it whispered, “You should go network and eat pie”. The machinations of my fearful psyche gradually intensified and I was a hair’s breadth away from succumbing when I had a flash of insight. “Maybe I’m trying to avoid going because I know I need to go!” I silently exclaimed, “I’m resisting the inevitable hand of fate!” My desire to save face with the guys at Gym Rat in addition to my plans for watching the UFC 105 pay-per-view later that night probably had something to do with it too.
My sparring partner “Dave” had encouraged me to take it easy on him because he was an “old man”. While this was an obvious ruse, there was also a glaring hole in my defense that had heretofore gone unnoticed. I had the tendency to hold my right hand a little lower than would be prudent, and with a crisp left hook, Dave made this painfully obvious. Of course, Coach Todd has mentioned this to me before, (“You’re dropping your damn hand!”) but previous sparring partners had not created much of an incentive to really take this advice to heart.
I ended up finishing out the day humbled but determined. Not only did I earn my first-ever black eye, but I also came away with greater self confidence; as a fighter, a husband, an employee, and friend. I walked into the fire and got burned, but I would be back.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Fear factor
Uncertainties stir subconscious sediment,
Clouding the waters of the mind,
Anxiously watching the tick, tick, tock of the clock,
Drawing closer to the moment of doubt,
The urge is to escape.
Fear feeds on the unknown,
Watering a plot of weeds,
Merciless Anger lashes out,
Bleeding wounds can’t hide the pain,
The unseen itches.
A thread reaches through the maelstrom,
Finding purchase in the murky depths,
Courage wound with trepidation,
In stillness lies strength,
The crucible awaits.
Clouding the waters of the mind,
Anxiously watching the tick, tick, tock of the clock,
Drawing closer to the moment of doubt,
The urge is to escape.
Fear feeds on the unknown,
Watering a plot of weeds,
Merciless Anger lashes out,
Bleeding wounds can’t hide the pain,
The unseen itches.
A thread reaches through the maelstrom,
Finding purchase in the murky depths,
Courage wound with trepidation,
In stillness lies strength,
The crucible awaits.
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