I should not read Jane Austen.
Traveling back from an out of state business visit, I had the opportunity to read Persuasion. I had only read Sense and Sensibility and seen screen adaptations of Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and Emma.
I should not read Jane Austen.
Jane Austen fires one with a sense of the romantic and the glorious. To read her is to be pulled breathlessly into a world of morals and manners, of loves unspoken and then at the end realized, of sacrifice and ultimate triumph.
I include a passage from Persuasion in which the main male protagonist, Captain Wentworth, has written a letter to Miss Anne Elliott:
"I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own, than when you broke it eight and a half years ago. Dare not say man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan - Have you not seen this? Can you fail to understand my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings as I think you have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice, when they would be lost to others - Too good, too excellent creature!. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating in
F W.
I must go, uncertain of my fate, but I shall return hither, or follow your party as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's home this evening, or never."
Does the romance and love not drip off the page? And in the context of the book (which I highly recommend) does this not come at the climax, a love delayed but not denied?
And then I ask the question "Why is life not actually like this?"
I should not read Jane Austen.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Despair and Writing
I write best when I am despairing.
I wish I understood this combination. I would like to write best when I am happy or bored or something else which is more ordinary and less painful. But it apparently does not work that way, at least for me.
In despair perhaps there is pain - and the only way that I can relieve that pain is to write. It is not that I write specifically of despair; indeed, the writings under this influence range from happy to sad to downright profound (to the point that I can hardly recognize that the words came from me). But despair is the trigger; without despair, I am merely plodding through, trying to chase a Muse that simply will not be caught.
Can I force myself to despair more? Seems a bit counterintuitive, does it not? Yet that is the very thing that makes me write more prolifically and more skillfully than ever. So it is almost a challenge to my sense of well being: Want to write? Despair more. Put yourself in emotionally challenging and painful situations. Make your heart bleed and your soul cry for that which it can never have and then which has passed beyond and all that is beyond the reach of repairing.
Suffer. Cry. And find that your Muse offers the the comfort not of a hug or kiss, but simply words. Words from the heart and soul, words that seek to move the pain out of the secret places of myself and onto the page.
I wish I understood this combination. I would like to write best when I am happy or bored or something else which is more ordinary and less painful. But it apparently does not work that way, at least for me.
In despair perhaps there is pain - and the only way that I can relieve that pain is to write. It is not that I write specifically of despair; indeed, the writings under this influence range from happy to sad to downright profound (to the point that I can hardly recognize that the words came from me). But despair is the trigger; without despair, I am merely plodding through, trying to chase a Muse that simply will not be caught.
Can I force myself to despair more? Seems a bit counterintuitive, does it not? Yet that is the very thing that makes me write more prolifically and more skillfully than ever. So it is almost a challenge to my sense of well being: Want to write? Despair more. Put yourself in emotionally challenging and painful situations. Make your heart bleed and your soul cry for that which it can never have and then which has passed beyond and all that is beyond the reach of repairing.
Suffer. Cry. And find that your Muse offers the the comfort not of a hug or kiss, but simply words. Words from the heart and soul, words that seek to move the pain out of the secret places of myself and onto the page.
Monday, October 12, 2015
Friday, October 09, 2015
Pathetic Little Gifts
Sometimes we give the most pathetic little gifts.
Oh, we do not believe them to be so. We see them as great things, meaningful extensions of ourselves. We infuse them with depth and emotion, in our mind's eye making them ambassadors of great and lofty goals and expectations - dare we say daydreams? - waiting to blossom upon receipt.
Until the light of day comes.
In that minute these gifts are revealed to be what they actually are: small mud pies offered (almost by a child, it seems) at the same time gold and precious stones have arrived. The luster such things have acquired in our own imagination are stripped away, leaving the occasional mud pieces and sticks to fall on the marble floors.
The receivers will always be gracious of course; any gift offered as a gift is heartfelt and to be accepted as such. The thanks will come but somehow it never makes its way into our own consciousness - we are still fixated on revelation of the reality of what we have given, seemingly shocked the fact that the reality is not as we had imagined.
It is not that we should never give gifts - no indeed, there are probably not enough gifts given in the world. No, the problem is really within ourselves. Sometimes we become so engrossed by the (imagined) deep and meaningful nature of our gifts that we forget the original point of giving the gifts: they are ultimately never really for ourselves, they are for those to whom we give them. And it is not the the receivers are ungrateful - indeed, they are almost universally very grateful. What has occurred is that we have created in our own minds a vast and complicated story of how they will be received and what will be understood from them.
So perhaps in reality it is not that we give pathetic little gifts. Perhaps what has happened is that we have given perfectly good gifts - infused not the joy of giving, but rather with the weight of things they were never meant to bear.
Oh, we do not believe them to be so. We see them as great things, meaningful extensions of ourselves. We infuse them with depth and emotion, in our mind's eye making them ambassadors of great and lofty goals and expectations - dare we say daydreams? - waiting to blossom upon receipt.
Until the light of day comes.
In that minute these gifts are revealed to be what they actually are: small mud pies offered (almost by a child, it seems) at the same time gold and precious stones have arrived. The luster such things have acquired in our own imagination are stripped away, leaving the occasional mud pieces and sticks to fall on the marble floors.
The receivers will always be gracious of course; any gift offered as a gift is heartfelt and to be accepted as such. The thanks will come but somehow it never makes its way into our own consciousness - we are still fixated on revelation of the reality of what we have given, seemingly shocked the fact that the reality is not as we had imagined.
It is not that we should never give gifts - no indeed, there are probably not enough gifts given in the world. No, the problem is really within ourselves. Sometimes we become so engrossed by the (imagined) deep and meaningful nature of our gifts that we forget the original point of giving the gifts: they are ultimately never really for ourselves, they are for those to whom we give them. And it is not the the receivers are ungrateful - indeed, they are almost universally very grateful. What has occurred is that we have created in our own minds a vast and complicated story of how they will be received and what will be understood from them.
So perhaps in reality it is not that we give pathetic little gifts. Perhaps what has happened is that we have given perfectly good gifts - infused not the joy of giving, but rather with the weight of things they were never meant to bear.
Thursday, October 08, 2015
Rabbitude
Tonight as I was watering in the backyard at dusk I noticed a bit of movement down by the fence by where the old fruit tree - mostly dead now - backs into the corner. The movement resolved itself into a rabbit, sitting in the grass, watching.
I was a bit surprised as it did not start with the water being only five feet away or so - it just sat there, watching me, then hopped more into plain view. It was plainly there for a reason and plainly not scared of me at all.
I turned to water something else and then looked back - and was surprised to see the rabbit had hopped up to the patch of expiring black-eyed peas that I have growing (they are dying out due to the end the season, not for a lack of watering). Without further ado he pulled one of the leaves off and sat there devouring it, clearly not at all concerned with what he was doing or if I was likely to chase after him to catch him.
I admit that I was surprised by this boldness. We have rabbits that visit (I assume that they are the same ones, as in dusk it is difficult to tell them apart) and have become surprisingly nonchalant about our presence there - in fact, sometimes they will simply crouch down in the grass when Syrah the Mighty is there, and then raise back up when she has left. But I cannot recall a time where I have seen such a blatant move.
It is a bit concerning of course - after all, rabbits eating garden things are things that I am not going to eat. But I have a soft spot in my heart for these rabbits and can hardly begrudge them for eating something that is dying off anyway.
The whole experience, of course, has given me a new word: rabbitude. The act of being bold with panache while knowing that everyone knows that this is atypical behavior for you.
It is the unsurprising that sometimes carries the day - or in this case, the dinner.
I was a bit surprised as it did not start with the water being only five feet away or so - it just sat there, watching me, then hopped more into plain view. It was plainly there for a reason and plainly not scared of me at all.
I turned to water something else and then looked back - and was surprised to see the rabbit had hopped up to the patch of expiring black-eyed peas that I have growing (they are dying out due to the end the season, not for a lack of watering). Without further ado he pulled one of the leaves off and sat there devouring it, clearly not at all concerned with what he was doing or if I was likely to chase after him to catch him.
I admit that I was surprised by this boldness. We have rabbits that visit (I assume that they are the same ones, as in dusk it is difficult to tell them apart) and have become surprisingly nonchalant about our presence there - in fact, sometimes they will simply crouch down in the grass when Syrah the Mighty is there, and then raise back up when she has left. But I cannot recall a time where I have seen such a blatant move.
It is a bit concerning of course - after all, rabbits eating garden things are things that I am not going to eat. But I have a soft spot in my heart for these rabbits and can hardly begrudge them for eating something that is dying off anyway.
The whole experience, of course, has given me a new word: rabbitude. The act of being bold with panache while knowing that everyone knows that this is atypical behavior for you.
It is the unsurprising that sometimes carries the day - or in this case, the dinner.
Wednesday, October 07, 2015
Monday, October 05, 2015
Abandoning The Cause
There are moments when one feels like abandoning the cause.
It can come in a variety of forms, personal or professional or volunteer or even religious. It can come after a short period of time, but I think that it comes after a longer time.
Enthusiasm wans. Little things that were issues getting magnified into larger issues. The energy to do simply is not there. Or maybe it is the will. I am never quite sure of such things. Bottom line, one simply feels like giving up. Packing it in and going home. Locking the door and never going out again.
I have threatened - at least, I have threatened in my mind - to just start driving one day and not come back. Just keep going until I hit the Pacific and then maybe make a right and head up the coast. It is fantasy of course, mere stupidity. After all, I have a fairly extensive list of responsibilities that I have to meet.
Not joys, responsibilities. It feels like all that my life is dominated by such things at this point. And that leaves me feeling like simply abandoning the cause. All of them.
I will not, of course. I will get up tomorrow because that is what adults do and go do my job and my responsibilities. Children will be provided for. Animals will be fed and plants watered. My job will have the benefit of my attention and I will accomplish my tasks. Bills will paid. All the things a responsible person does.
But yes, probably, I will be driving to the Pacific in my mind.
It can come in a variety of forms, personal or professional or volunteer or even religious. It can come after a short period of time, but I think that it comes after a longer time.
Enthusiasm wans. Little things that were issues getting magnified into larger issues. The energy to do simply is not there. Or maybe it is the will. I am never quite sure of such things. Bottom line, one simply feels like giving up. Packing it in and going home. Locking the door and never going out again.
I have threatened - at least, I have threatened in my mind - to just start driving one day and not come back. Just keep going until I hit the Pacific and then maybe make a right and head up the coast. It is fantasy of course, mere stupidity. After all, I have a fairly extensive list of responsibilities that I have to meet.
Not joys, responsibilities. It feels like all that my life is dominated by such things at this point. And that leaves me feeling like simply abandoning the cause. All of them.
I will not, of course. I will get up tomorrow because that is what adults do and go do my job and my responsibilities. Children will be provided for. Animals will be fed and plants watered. My job will have the benefit of my attention and I will accomplish my tasks. Bills will paid. All the things a responsible person does.
But yes, probably, I will be driving to the Pacific in my mind.
Fall Garden 2015
So today began Fall Garden 2015.
I am somewhat scaling back and recalibrating how I garden. After I opened up the space nearer to the house in April I noticed a few things: It had more exposure to sun, it was easier to weed, and it closer to the house and therefore easier to water. This has changed how intend to try garden this year.
The space is not huge - perhaps an additional 20 square feet, 2 feet long and 10 feet wide. It is still a bit planted with some volunteer peppers and tomatoes and the second growth of Sorghum. Rather than replant the whole thing in winter crops (which will crowd out the spring and summer, which always gets me) I have decided to narrow my choice to garlic (which always grows), spinach (sometimes yes, sometimes not so much yes), and leeks (never tried here. Why not? Leek soup and Leek pie are great!).
The space to north, which is a bit under the neighbors oak, which is usually where I garden, will be partially turned over to barley and winter wheat. The rest will lie fallow under what is rapidly becoming a fair amount of detrius of dissolved wood pellet bedding (with rabbit urine) mixed with hay and rabbit manure, ready for spring.
My hope? The first is that the change in location will help more things grow. The second is that with a smaller space to manage, I can cultivate it more productively and intensely. The third is that by managing my space, I can get more by timing my plantings.
Worst case, at least I will have garlice.
I am somewhat scaling back and recalibrating how I garden. After I opened up the space nearer to the house in April I noticed a few things: It had more exposure to sun, it was easier to weed, and it closer to the house and therefore easier to water. This has changed how intend to try garden this year.
The space is not huge - perhaps an additional 20 square feet, 2 feet long and 10 feet wide. It is still a bit planted with some volunteer peppers and tomatoes and the second growth of Sorghum. Rather than replant the whole thing in winter crops (which will crowd out the spring and summer, which always gets me) I have decided to narrow my choice to garlic (which always grows), spinach (sometimes yes, sometimes not so much yes), and leeks (never tried here. Why not? Leek soup and Leek pie are great!).
The space to north, which is a bit under the neighbors oak, which is usually where I garden, will be partially turned over to barley and winter wheat. The rest will lie fallow under what is rapidly becoming a fair amount of detrius of dissolved wood pellet bedding (with rabbit urine) mixed with hay and rabbit manure, ready for spring.
My hope? The first is that the change in location will help more things grow. The second is that with a smaller space to manage, I can cultivate it more productively and intensely. The third is that by managing my space, I can get more by timing my plantings.
Worst case, at least I will have garlice.
Friday, October 02, 2015
Thursday, October 01, 2015
Moths and Flames
I realized today that people are either moths or flames.
Most people are moths: they are irresistibly attracted to the lives of others. They cluster around the lives of those that are flames, basking in the warm glow of their lives and their existences, which at some fundamental level they substitute for their own. In fact, they are so entranced by the lives of others that they build their lives around them to the point that their interests, their live, their thoughts are merely the imitation of the flames that they dance about.
But a few people are flames: they burn brightly with the light of inner achievement and activity. They are not overly entranced with the lives of others; instead they are comfortable with the fact that they can define their own interests and desires, not have to adopt them whole cloth from the lives of others. They may be bold or subtle, bright or subdued, but they definitely - in their own way - light up the night.
I suppose at some point in life we are either one or the other, either drawn to the lives of others in imitation or burning brightly for ourselves. Arguably we should always seek to achieve more the status of flame and less the status of a moth.
Why? Because when we are so entranced by the flames of our lives that we do not pay attention to how close we are getting to them - and so we are consumed by them.
Most people are moths: they are irresistibly attracted to the lives of others. They cluster around the lives of those that are flames, basking in the warm glow of their lives and their existences, which at some fundamental level they substitute for their own. In fact, they are so entranced by the lives of others that they build their lives around them to the point that their interests, their live, their thoughts are merely the imitation of the flames that they dance about.
But a few people are flames: they burn brightly with the light of inner achievement and activity. They are not overly entranced with the lives of others; instead they are comfortable with the fact that they can define their own interests and desires, not have to adopt them whole cloth from the lives of others. They may be bold or subtle, bright or subdued, but they definitely - in their own way - light up the night.
I suppose at some point in life we are either one or the other, either drawn to the lives of others in imitation or burning brightly for ourselves. Arguably we should always seek to achieve more the status of flame and less the status of a moth.
Why? Because when we are so entranced by the flames of our lives that we do not pay attention to how close we are getting to them - and so we are consumed by them.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Time To Move On
It is time to move on in my career.
The parting shot has slowly been building all week. With the big push of the recent months past, work has slowed down considerably - considerably enough that I am re-engaged in the very bottom layer of tasks on my "To Do" list, the sort of mind numbing tasks like cleaning out documents to check if they are still in process and deleting or pushing them through. Important work some say; painful underutilization of my skills, says I.
But the final blow seems to have come yesterday.
My dear friend Nighean Ruadh was notified that after a year on the job, she is doing such a good job that they are adding to her job duties. They like and trust her and like her attitude and are willing to have her do more for the company. Very exciting stuff and I am very proud of her.
Then came the sinking realization that I have not had a new job responsibility in four years.
Think of that. Four years and no change in my job. No increase in responsibilities. No real new talents or skills acquired. Just four years - six years all old - of essentially treading career water, hoping against hope that either I would move to the next level or find something else that would move me there. If you have followed my blog long enough, you know that precisely neither of those two things have happened.
So where to now?
I keep finding other things to do with my energy. Part of it, I know, is that I simply like doing other things than work anyway. But if I am brutally honest with myself, I think part of it is the fact that I simply do not want to start the painful effort of a sustained job search that results in a job.
It is hard. It is painful. It requires hours that I would like to spend doing other things. And in my case, it will require the effort of retooling my resume to make it non-career specific in hopes that I can move out in something more as my chances in my industry here are limited.
I do not want to do this. My soul shudders as I think of the undertaking and the multiple rejections I am sure to take.
But then I think of my friend and realize that if I want that feeling of recognition and doing more, I am going to have to something different.
Because this is sure not working.
The parting shot has slowly been building all week. With the big push of the recent months past, work has slowed down considerably - considerably enough that I am re-engaged in the very bottom layer of tasks on my "To Do" list, the sort of mind numbing tasks like cleaning out documents to check if they are still in process and deleting or pushing them through. Important work some say; painful underutilization of my skills, says I.
But the final blow seems to have come yesterday.
My dear friend Nighean Ruadh was notified that after a year on the job, she is doing such a good job that they are adding to her job duties. They like and trust her and like her attitude and are willing to have her do more for the company. Very exciting stuff and I am very proud of her.
Then came the sinking realization that I have not had a new job responsibility in four years.
Think of that. Four years and no change in my job. No increase in responsibilities. No real new talents or skills acquired. Just four years - six years all old - of essentially treading career water, hoping against hope that either I would move to the next level or find something else that would move me there. If you have followed my blog long enough, you know that precisely neither of those two things have happened.
So where to now?
I keep finding other things to do with my energy. Part of it, I know, is that I simply like doing other things than work anyway. But if I am brutally honest with myself, I think part of it is the fact that I simply do not want to start the painful effort of a sustained job search that results in a job.
It is hard. It is painful. It requires hours that I would like to spend doing other things. And in my case, it will require the effort of retooling my resume to make it non-career specific in hopes that I can move out in something more as my chances in my industry here are limited.
I do not want to do this. My soul shudders as I think of the undertaking and the multiple rejections I am sure to take.
But then I think of my friend and realize that if I want that feeling of recognition and doing more, I am going to have to something different.
Because this is sure not working.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Monday, September 28, 2015
The Moment of Giving Up
Is there a moment when you give up?
A moment when suddenly it has become pointless,
the moment you decide that the struggle
is no longer worth it?
Is it a moment you can recognize,
a moment you can taste?
Is it something your remember
what was playing in the background
as the decision was made?
Does it become something you can look at
like an old faded photograph
from a previous generation,
slightly discolored and grainy
but bearing witness to the event?
Is it any of this?
Or is it, more likely, simply something
that is realized after the moment has fled,
the fading lights of the house in the mirror
you never realized you passed.
A moment when suddenly it has become pointless,
the moment you decide that the struggle
is no longer worth it?
Is it a moment you can recognize,
a moment you can taste?
Is it something your remember
what was playing in the background
as the decision was made?
Does it become something you can look at
like an old faded photograph
from a previous generation,
slightly discolored and grainy
but bearing witness to the event?
Is it any of this?
Or is it, more likely, simply something
that is realized after the moment has fled,
the fading lights of the house in the mirror
you never realized you passed.
Friday, September 25, 2015
Selfishness
Selfishness is an terrible, beautiful thing.
It can become a blinding light in our lives, burning white hot in its intensity. It crowds out all else: common sense, decency, morals, even God.
It seems innocent enough at first: a quiet interest in something, perhaps even a passing fancy. But as time passes we find that it is hardly passing: it slow grows in our mind, an object which becomes The Thing from which we can derive great personal pleasure.
And we need it.
Given enough time and space it will come to consume all of our thoughts, all of our life. It becomes the raging fire to which our life is dedicated to, the Holy Grail we would sell our very souls for to seek. We can push ourselves to the point that thing is so needed that other people, other relationships become obstacles in the quest for The Thing.
Even to the point that we will deny the happiness of others to achieve It.
I wish I had a better way to fight it. I do not of course: I fumble my way through, perhaps try to divert my mind or bring it back to where it needs to be. And sometimes I am successful - only to find myself lapsing back, hypnotically entranced by the dancing shadow flames of desire.
It matters not that The Thing will not ultimately live up to what we think it will: we know in our heart of hearts that it will.
Until that day, that the fire collapses, the illusion slowly drifts away, and all we find is ourselves holding the ash - not of the The Thing we desired so badly, but of the rest of our lives.
It can become a blinding light in our lives, burning white hot in its intensity. It crowds out all else: common sense, decency, morals, even God.
It seems innocent enough at first: a quiet interest in something, perhaps even a passing fancy. But as time passes we find that it is hardly passing: it slow grows in our mind, an object which becomes The Thing from which we can derive great personal pleasure.
And we need it.
Given enough time and space it will come to consume all of our thoughts, all of our life. It becomes the raging fire to which our life is dedicated to, the Holy Grail we would sell our very souls for to seek. We can push ourselves to the point that thing is so needed that other people, other relationships become obstacles in the quest for The Thing.
Even to the point that we will deny the happiness of others to achieve It.
I wish I had a better way to fight it. I do not of course: I fumble my way through, perhaps try to divert my mind or bring it back to where it needs to be. And sometimes I am successful - only to find myself lapsing back, hypnotically entranced by the dancing shadow flames of desire.
It matters not that The Thing will not ultimately live up to what we think it will: we know in our heart of hearts that it will.
Until that day, that the fire collapses, the illusion slowly drifts away, and all we find is ourselves holding the ash - not of the The Thing we desired so badly, but of the rest of our lives.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
The Relational Compact
We all dwell in relational compacts.
For those of you that slept through Political Theory (instead of those of us fools who majored in it), this is an idea based on Jean-Jacques Rousseau and the Social Compact which, in his view, was the agreement that we all make when we come together as a society. We surrender certain of our rights, and in return we gain the benefits of living in a group. The group exists through the mechanism of the compact, this often unspoken set of rules and benefits that undergird society.
The same exists for our relationships as well.
Think about it: in almost every relationship you (or I) inhabit, there are rules. They are quite probably not spoken of openly between the individuals but everyone senses that they are there. They are boundaries and limits around what we can do between each other.
Included in these are the things we cannot say, the words we cannot voice, the actions we cannot take. Oh, they exist in our mind rightly enough, but the relational compact forbids us from mentioning them by name or deed. To do so would be to violate the most fundamental laws of relationships: doing that which is simply not to be done.
And so we dwell within the compact. We move about our daily lives, interacting with each other on levels which may not approach actual honesty or fulfillment but do keep us together, functioning as a social unit in whatever we find ourselves.
Occasionally of course, I fantasize. I wonder what it would be like to break the social compact, to do what please me more than what the social compact requires. Tell people what I think. Take actions which I would ordinarily not, things which would have radical implications.
And then, of course, I do not. The Relational Compact ultimately seems to dominate all that I do.
Because breaking it seems to be the most heinous of crimes. Odd, for something that is unwritten and invisible.
For those of you that slept through Political Theory (instead of those of us fools who majored in it), this is an idea based on Jean-Jacques Rousseau and the Social Compact which, in his view, was the agreement that we all make when we come together as a society. We surrender certain of our rights, and in return we gain the benefits of living in a group. The group exists through the mechanism of the compact, this often unspoken set of rules and benefits that undergird society.
The same exists for our relationships as well.
Think about it: in almost every relationship you (or I) inhabit, there are rules. They are quite probably not spoken of openly between the individuals but everyone senses that they are there. They are boundaries and limits around what we can do between each other.
Included in these are the things we cannot say, the words we cannot voice, the actions we cannot take. Oh, they exist in our mind rightly enough, but the relational compact forbids us from mentioning them by name or deed. To do so would be to violate the most fundamental laws of relationships: doing that which is simply not to be done.
And so we dwell within the compact. We move about our daily lives, interacting with each other on levels which may not approach actual honesty or fulfillment but do keep us together, functioning as a social unit in whatever we find ourselves.
Occasionally of course, I fantasize. I wonder what it would be like to break the social compact, to do what please me more than what the social compact requires. Tell people what I think. Take actions which I would ordinarily not, things which would have radical implications.
And then, of course, I do not. The Relational Compact ultimately seems to dominate all that I do.
Because breaking it seems to be the most heinous of crimes. Odd, for something that is unwritten and invisible.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
2016 Physical Goals
I had to come up with physical goals for next year this afternoon.
The Ninja asked for them. I tried to defer a question on them to Nighean Ruadh but she pushed my right back to The Ninja. I squirmed and coughed and tried to come up with something different, but in the end I sat down and drafted them up.
What came out of them was somewhat surprising.
They are not fully approved yet and so I will not really discuss them except in generalities, but they came down to strength and speed for use in Iaijutsu and Highland Athletics. This strikes me as kind of amusing as this is not something I would have ever predicted about myself 10 years ago, or even 6 years ago when I moved.
They included things like types of distances, number of games, and some things around Iai. The relatively amazing thing to me is that, with a great deal of work, they are things that are (I think) obtainable.
To be clear, they are hard. They will stretch me. They will make me work harder than I ever have in my life on such things. But what I have come to discover is that the hardest things - like an endurance run I never thought I could do - make me the strongest when I am through with them.
So I am hopeful. And a little scared. This will be good.
But it will be harder than I think I can possibly anticipate.
The Ninja asked for them. I tried to defer a question on them to Nighean Ruadh but she pushed my right back to The Ninja. I squirmed and coughed and tried to come up with something different, but in the end I sat down and drafted them up.
What came out of them was somewhat surprising.
They are not fully approved yet and so I will not really discuss them except in generalities, but they came down to strength and speed for use in Iaijutsu and Highland Athletics. This strikes me as kind of amusing as this is not something I would have ever predicted about myself 10 years ago, or even 6 years ago when I moved.
They included things like types of distances, number of games, and some things around Iai. The relatively amazing thing to me is that, with a great deal of work, they are things that are (I think) obtainable.
To be clear, they are hard. They will stretch me. They will make me work harder than I ever have in my life on such things. But what I have come to discover is that the hardest things - like an endurance run I never thought I could do - make me the strongest when I am through with them.
So I am hopeful. And a little scared. This will be good.
But it will be harder than I think I can possibly anticipate.
On Suicide
Suicide was in my mental edge of vision today.
Two events pushed this in - one, an article from a complete stranger on how his brother took his own life in June, the other the news from a Throwing Friend that his father had committed suicide as well.
Both were surprises. Both were, so far as I know, left without explanation or reasoning. Just gone, leaving the survivors behind in pain and confusion.
I am not a counselor nor a psychologist. But I do know a little bit about the road leading down there.
It was a long time ago - maybe 30 years gone now. Life was simply not getting any better and did not seem to have the hint of getting better. I was 17 or so and simply did not feel that anything was going to improve. And so I started toying with the idea of simply ending the seemingly unending pain of simply being.
If you have never gone through this sort of depression you cannot imagine what it feels like. It is a sort pain, yes, but the worst part about it is that it feels as if it will never end. There is no sense that tomorrow is going to come, just a long tunnel of bleak that simply feels as if it will never end.
How serious was I? Fair question. Probably not all that serious in that there was no "serious" attempt but serious enough that I tried to damage myself. Serious enough that others took it seriously.
I was fortunate or blessed. I got help. Am I great? Nope - surely if you read here regularly, you know that. What I have come to reach is a sort of truce: I get depressed but I understand that it is not a never-ending tunnel. While there may never be full sunlight at least the cloud cover will allow patches of sunlight through.
The point of this excursis, I suppose, is that to those who are suffering and to those that are near them. To those that are suffering, nothing is forever in this life. I cannot know your pain fully, but I can tell you that whatever you face is not never ending, unless you freeze it so in death.
To those who are near them, understand that in suicide the ending of pain is usually the primary objective. It is not that that they do not care, it is that the pain is more overwhelming than anything else currently going on.
It is real. And people's struggles are real. That is why it is critical to listen, even when one does not feel like they have the time or inclination to do so. The sympathetic ear of one voice can be enough to give someone the realization that someone cares, that the tunnel is not without end.
Be mindful of others, because you never know what they are truly going through.
Two events pushed this in - one, an article from a complete stranger on how his brother took his own life in June, the other the news from a Throwing Friend that his father had committed suicide as well.
Both were surprises. Both were, so far as I know, left without explanation or reasoning. Just gone, leaving the survivors behind in pain and confusion.
I am not a counselor nor a psychologist. But I do know a little bit about the road leading down there.
It was a long time ago - maybe 30 years gone now. Life was simply not getting any better and did not seem to have the hint of getting better. I was 17 or so and simply did not feel that anything was going to improve. And so I started toying with the idea of simply ending the seemingly unending pain of simply being.
If you have never gone through this sort of depression you cannot imagine what it feels like. It is a sort pain, yes, but the worst part about it is that it feels as if it will never end. There is no sense that tomorrow is going to come, just a long tunnel of bleak that simply feels as if it will never end.
How serious was I? Fair question. Probably not all that serious in that there was no "serious" attempt but serious enough that I tried to damage myself. Serious enough that others took it seriously.
I was fortunate or blessed. I got help. Am I great? Nope - surely if you read here regularly, you know that. What I have come to reach is a sort of truce: I get depressed but I understand that it is not a never-ending tunnel. While there may never be full sunlight at least the cloud cover will allow patches of sunlight through.
The point of this excursis, I suppose, is that to those who are suffering and to those that are near them. To those that are suffering, nothing is forever in this life. I cannot know your pain fully, but I can tell you that whatever you face is not never ending, unless you freeze it so in death.
To those who are near them, understand that in suicide the ending of pain is usually the primary objective. It is not that that they do not care, it is that the pain is more overwhelming than anything else currently going on.
It is real. And people's struggles are real. That is why it is critical to listen, even when one does not feel like they have the time or inclination to do so. The sympathetic ear of one voice can be enough to give someone the realization that someone cares, that the tunnel is not without end.
Be mindful of others, because you never know what they are truly going through.
Monday, September 21, 2015
Friday, September 18, 2015
The Mystery of The Disappearing Quail
Fortyfive Nation, I have a mystery for you.
The Situation: I go outside this morning to feed the quail as I always do. I open the swing down door and put in the ration of meal worms. No-one rushes out but that is not particularly surprising as it was a little earlier than I usually go out and so darker. No big deal.
For some reason I come out later before I eat breakfast to check. Still no-one has swarmed the meal worms. I open the cage up. Inside I find one traumatized quail with injuries and two quail that are missing completely. The latch was closed. There are feathers scattered around but very little blood indicating an attack. What happened?
1) Someone thieved two quail and left the third. Possible, but does not explain the injuries on the third quail.
2) A predator (I'm thinking a raccoon) - Possible, although the lack of blood and the fact the latch was replaced in position makes me wonder.
3) Three...I got nothing.
Quail Three is in the converted hamster cage recovering in the air conditioning. I would give its chances at not that great, except these quail have really surprised me as to their ability to recover from injuries. Here's hoping.
Two lessons for those that seek to prepare for emergencies:
1) Local wildlife will become an issue, especially as the easy pickings (otherwise known as garbage) disappear. Imagine rabbits in your garden but much worse.
2) Two legged wildlife can also become an issue. Be prepared to disguise, conceal, or even more actively protect (as in moving closer to the house, perhaps even in your garage) that which is valuable.
The Situation: I go outside this morning to feed the quail as I always do. I open the swing down door and put in the ration of meal worms. No-one rushes out but that is not particularly surprising as it was a little earlier than I usually go out and so darker. No big deal.
For some reason I come out later before I eat breakfast to check. Still no-one has swarmed the meal worms. I open the cage up. Inside I find one traumatized quail with injuries and two quail that are missing completely. The latch was closed. There are feathers scattered around but very little blood indicating an attack. What happened?
1) Someone thieved two quail and left the third. Possible, but does not explain the injuries on the third quail.
2) A predator (I'm thinking a raccoon) - Possible, although the lack of blood and the fact the latch was replaced in position makes me wonder.
3) Three...I got nothing.
Quail Three is in the converted hamster cage recovering in the air conditioning. I would give its chances at not that great, except these quail have really surprised me as to their ability to recover from injuries. Here's hoping.
Two lessons for those that seek to prepare for emergencies:
1) Local wildlife will become an issue, especially as the easy pickings (otherwise known as garbage) disappear. Imagine rabbits in your garden but much worse.
2) Two legged wildlife can also become an issue. Be prepared to disguise, conceal, or even more actively protect (as in moving closer to the house, perhaps even in your garage) that which is valuable.
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Man Cave and Study
A few days ago this showed up in my inbox:
I love this.
I love this for two reasons:
1) The first is that I love the implication of what it is calling men back to: greatness and wisdom. These are traits which are valuable in any culture. No one ever said "Be less great. Be less wise". It is calling men to a higher plane of living.
2) The second is that it notes the subtle change in culture that has plagued us for some time.
The Man Cave. Grasp the implications. The place where men retreat from the world rather than engage in it. A cave - a place to hide, a place where usually only the desperate and outcasts of a society would hide. A place of darkness and boundaries. In our current situation, a place where men gather with other men in a sort of inward looking engagement.
Compare this with the study. A place of learning and knowledge. A place where men train themselves intellectually to go out into the world. A place where men gather to discuss matters of import.
One is a place of consumption and entertainment. The other is a place of training and engagement.
I have never had a study. I have always wanted one but with multiple children the potential study is always being converted into a bedroom. I have had to make do with a desk or even a table top; my study is never more than 2" by 3". But wherever it has been I have put the small reminders of my life and what I want it to be. It my place to think, to study, to ponder, and to prepare.
Less Man Cave. More Study.
I love this.
I love this for two reasons:
1) The first is that I love the implication of what it is calling men back to: greatness and wisdom. These are traits which are valuable in any culture. No one ever said "Be less great. Be less wise". It is calling men to a higher plane of living.
2) The second is that it notes the subtle change in culture that has plagued us for some time.
The Man Cave. Grasp the implications. The place where men retreat from the world rather than engage in it. A cave - a place to hide, a place where usually only the desperate and outcasts of a society would hide. A place of darkness and boundaries. In our current situation, a place where men gather with other men in a sort of inward looking engagement.
Compare this with the study. A place of learning and knowledge. A place where men train themselves intellectually to go out into the world. A place where men gather to discuss matters of import.
One is a place of consumption and entertainment. The other is a place of training and engagement.
I have never had a study. I have always wanted one but with multiple children the potential study is always being converted into a bedroom. I have had to make do with a desk or even a table top; my study is never more than 2" by 3". But wherever it has been I have put the small reminders of my life and what I want it to be. It my place to think, to study, to ponder, and to prepare.
Less Man Cave. More Study.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Trapped And Reactions
Feeling trapped is a terrible thing.
Hope seems to dwindle a little a time. First of all "soon" is the watchword, then "someday", then "I do not think it is every coming." And that point, the match has been lost.
It begins to affect your reactions with folks. Your frustration at the situation looks for outlets that it cannot otherwise find, and turns itself on those who are around you. You cannot really yell at people above you, of course, because that just goes very badly, so it tends to channel to those around you. Good nature tends to expire as the corridor seems to get longer and longer without relief.
How does one combat such a situation? That is always the struggle in such circumstances. You want to be understanding, to be the compassionate and the person you have always been, but always in the back of your head is the sense that this is never going to end and at some level, some ridiculous level, the behavior that makes it all tolerable is the same behavior that will someone, somewhere, is using against you as part of the endless corridor of nothingness.
I wish I had a better answer. I truly do. I find myself quite snappish at people whom I should not be so at. My patience seems to have dwindled to a faded memory of what it used to be. And my happy go lucky demeanor has become a hollow shell of what it once was.
The ultimate resolution, I suppose, is to escape the trap. But sometimes that is more easily said than done.
Hope seems to dwindle a little a time. First of all "soon" is the watchword, then "someday", then "I do not think it is every coming." And that point, the match has been lost.
It begins to affect your reactions with folks. Your frustration at the situation looks for outlets that it cannot otherwise find, and turns itself on those who are around you. You cannot really yell at people above you, of course, because that just goes very badly, so it tends to channel to those around you. Good nature tends to expire as the corridor seems to get longer and longer without relief.
How does one combat such a situation? That is always the struggle in such circumstances. You want to be understanding, to be the compassionate and the person you have always been, but always in the back of your head is the sense that this is never going to end and at some level, some ridiculous level, the behavior that makes it all tolerable is the same behavior that will someone, somewhere, is using against you as part of the endless corridor of nothingness.
I wish I had a better answer. I truly do. I find myself quite snappish at people whom I should not be so at. My patience seems to have dwindled to a faded memory of what it used to be. And my happy go lucky demeanor has become a hollow shell of what it once was.
The ultimate resolution, I suppose, is to escape the trap. But sometimes that is more easily said than done.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Monday, September 14, 2015
A Sudden Moment of Focus
And then the moment comes when you realize you want to move things to the next level.
I do not know that I have ever been conscious of this process before, at least not in the way I am this morning. It seem likely, based on my immediate experience, that there is some sort trigger - some event, some encounter - that makes one suddenly decide, in an instant, that the time has come to move up. To level up.
Suddenly things take on a new light.
Activities done in pursuit of this thing, whatever it is, are no longer just practiced for the sake of doing them. Instead there is a purpose for them. More does not always mean better. It is the quality of what is being done and how it contributes to the final goal that becomes of importance. Realistically this means a refocusing of time and effort on the activities that one is doing - not just the immediate ones of choice but all activities connected with it. Time and effort need to come from somewhere else.
What is the result of all of this? I do not know that I can fully tell as I have never been fully conscious of this process before. There is certainly a sense about me that is different, something that has changed in the last 12 hours that was not there before. A refocusing - I do not know any other way to say it - that empowers in a way that nothing else I have felt has ever done.
It is not that the goals were never there. It is just that suddenly, one understands what one has to do to get there.
I do not know that I have ever been conscious of this process before, at least not in the way I am this morning. It seem likely, based on my immediate experience, that there is some sort trigger - some event, some encounter - that makes one suddenly decide, in an instant, that the time has come to move up. To level up.
Suddenly things take on a new light.
Activities done in pursuit of this thing, whatever it is, are no longer just practiced for the sake of doing them. Instead there is a purpose for them. More does not always mean better. It is the quality of what is being done and how it contributes to the final goal that becomes of importance. Realistically this means a refocusing of time and effort on the activities that one is doing - not just the immediate ones of choice but all activities connected with it. Time and effort need to come from somewhere else.
What is the result of all of this? I do not know that I can fully tell as I have never been fully conscious of this process before. There is certainly a sense about me that is different, something that has changed in the last 12 hours that was not there before. A refocusing - I do not know any other way to say it - that empowers in a way that nothing else I have felt has ever done.
It is not that the goals were never there. It is just that suddenly, one understands what one has to do to get there.
Friday, September 11, 2015
A Mind Over-Extrapolating
Sometimes the mind gets away from itself.
I am subject to the over-extrapolating of circumstances. Always have been. I can take any circumstance and extend it in my mind to the worst degree possible in pretty short order. It usually results in some level of depression and hopelessness about whatever the circumstance in question is.
Take work, for example. My constant inability to get beyond where I am and the seemingly ever-changing organizational structure, if left to my mind, sends me down trails that never work out well for me. My mind takes over, takes the worst of situations I have experienced in the past, and plays new movies on the screen of my mind, movies of changed positions and uncomfortable work situations and bad personal relations. The sort of things that leave you feeling trapped and hopeless for long periods of time.
I would love to say that I have some kind of antidote for this sort of thinking, some way of taking this thinking and turning it on its head. I do not, of course - for me, this sort of thinking begets more of this sort of thinking and circumstances, of course, are seldom such that I am able to magically find something else to pull me out of my pit. And the saddest part, I suppose, is simply the wave of pointlessness that tinges everything that I do after that point - after all, if there is no good way out, any effort in that direction will only result in no improvement.
Surely there is a way out of this sort of thinking. Surely at some level, initiative and effort will ultimately result in some sort of good entering the situation. Surely life cannot be as bleak and without a sense of hope in such situations.
But if that is so, is my mind simply too feeble to see it?
I am subject to the over-extrapolating of circumstances. Always have been. I can take any circumstance and extend it in my mind to the worst degree possible in pretty short order. It usually results in some level of depression and hopelessness about whatever the circumstance in question is.
Take work, for example. My constant inability to get beyond where I am and the seemingly ever-changing organizational structure, if left to my mind, sends me down trails that never work out well for me. My mind takes over, takes the worst of situations I have experienced in the past, and plays new movies on the screen of my mind, movies of changed positions and uncomfortable work situations and bad personal relations. The sort of things that leave you feeling trapped and hopeless for long periods of time.
I would love to say that I have some kind of antidote for this sort of thinking, some way of taking this thinking and turning it on its head. I do not, of course - for me, this sort of thinking begets more of this sort of thinking and circumstances, of course, are seldom such that I am able to magically find something else to pull me out of my pit. And the saddest part, I suppose, is simply the wave of pointlessness that tinges everything that I do after that point - after all, if there is no good way out, any effort in that direction will only result in no improvement.
Surely there is a way out of this sort of thinking. Surely at some level, initiative and effort will ultimately result in some sort of good entering the situation. Surely life cannot be as bleak and without a sense of hope in such situations.
But if that is so, is my mind simply too feeble to see it?
Thursday, September 10, 2015
Working Out and Making Progress
So something happened yesterday that has never happened before.
As I may have mentioned before, I have engaged a strength coach (or rather, he allowed me to engage him. He is kind of a big deal in certain circles). My coach (hereafter known as The Ninja), has provided me with a program since the beginning of August. It is a simple program but one which, almost atypically for me, I have been following regularly. Three days a week, I cut into my lunch and walk across the parking lot to go work out at our corporate gym. I have been supplementing with some calisthenics programs loosely based on Bruce Lee and running and Iai (of course).
It is hard to measure progress when one is by one's self. One can look at the initial results perhaps, and and determining "I am moving more weight" or some such, but then one returns to the mirror and the scale and seems to see very little change at all. One might feel a bit better or more energetic, but there is no sense that progress is being made.
Until one gets an outside opinion.
Most folks at work know I go over to work out. I do it at lunch, so every day they see me tromping over in my tennis shoes and my old green Messenger bag with my change of clothings. There are comments made about it, of course, but nothing more than occasional offers to spot or the good wishes of a coworker. I have not said much about my goals in this area, more of just a general sense that this is something I am doing to get in better shape.
And then today, as I am wandering through to get a a drink of water, one of my coworkers says "You are bulking up."
I stumble a bit. "Actually, I am losing weight" I respond, thinking that bulking up can only mean one thing and that is getting heavier (I have lost about 8 pounds over the last 6 months).
"No no" he replies, "not bulkier like that. Muscular looking."
I laugh it off of course, make some silly comment about having to fit through doors sideways now, and stumbled back towards my desk. My heart was singing inside, of course. One does not hear that sort of praise often - and I, almost never.
Most of the times we do not get the privilege of realizing that we are making fundamental progress. But rarely - very rarely- we actually get to see the progress being made.
As I may have mentioned before, I have engaged a strength coach (or rather, he allowed me to engage him. He is kind of a big deal in certain circles). My coach (hereafter known as The Ninja), has provided me with a program since the beginning of August. It is a simple program but one which, almost atypically for me, I have been following regularly. Three days a week, I cut into my lunch and walk across the parking lot to go work out at our corporate gym. I have been supplementing with some calisthenics programs loosely based on Bruce Lee and running and Iai (of course).
It is hard to measure progress when one is by one's self. One can look at the initial results perhaps, and and determining "I am moving more weight" or some such, but then one returns to the mirror and the scale and seems to see very little change at all. One might feel a bit better or more energetic, but there is no sense that progress is being made.
Until one gets an outside opinion.
Most folks at work know I go over to work out. I do it at lunch, so every day they see me tromping over in my tennis shoes and my old green Messenger bag with my change of clothings. There are comments made about it, of course, but nothing more than occasional offers to spot or the good wishes of a coworker. I have not said much about my goals in this area, more of just a general sense that this is something I am doing to get in better shape.
And then today, as I am wandering through to get a a drink of water, one of my coworkers says "You are bulking up."
I stumble a bit. "Actually, I am losing weight" I respond, thinking that bulking up can only mean one thing and that is getting heavier (I have lost about 8 pounds over the last 6 months).
"No no" he replies, "not bulkier like that. Muscular looking."
I laugh it off of course, make some silly comment about having to fit through doors sideways now, and stumbled back towards my desk. My heart was singing inside, of course. One does not hear that sort of praise often - and I, almost never.
Most of the times we do not get the privilege of realizing that we are making fundamental progress. But rarely - very rarely- we actually get to see the progress being made.
Wednesday, September 09, 2015
Teachers and Bosses
There are two types of people that have immediate power over our lives: Teachers and Bosses. In some ways they both play similar roles. But the outcomes are very different.
Bosses - call them managers or shift supervisors or even professors - are those that seem to exercise influence over most of our lives. They can be tolerable or terrible, power mad or occasionally even great. They can teach us some great lessons or they can ensure that our lives can become a very unfortunate place to be. What unites them is the fact that they exercise power over our lives and in some cases our destinies, power that derives simply from the position that they occupy in our lives.
Teachers - call them coach or sensei or mentor or even a real teacher - are different. They can exercise vast influence over lives, from reigning in our small vices to completely changing the course of our lives. The difference is that we ultimately put ourselves under their guidance and control. It is not something that we are forced to do - instead, we do this willingly in the hopes that we will emerge changed and improved on the other side.
I have had many bosses. I have had few teachers - and the teachers I have had always improved me. They have been hard on me - in some cases, far harder than even the worst of bosses. But I have always trusted that in their difficulty, they have had my ultimate growth and success in mind.
Why? Because to put ourselves in the hand of a teacher is to put ourselves in a position of vulnerability and trust. It is to surrender some level of rights of ourselves to another, to make ourself vulnerable in a way that if the teacher fails, will at best embarrass us and at worst hurt us. It is to believe that someone can come into our lives and exercise power over us in a way that will ultimately be to our benefit, not our detriment.
Bottom line? Wherever possible seek out Teachers in every aspect of your life. Bosses - at least all the ones except the Teachers - view us as something which is required for achieving their own goals. Teachers view us as work in progress towards a better, fuller, richer us.
Bosses - call them managers or shift supervisors or even professors - are those that seem to exercise influence over most of our lives. They can be tolerable or terrible, power mad or occasionally even great. They can teach us some great lessons or they can ensure that our lives can become a very unfortunate place to be. What unites them is the fact that they exercise power over our lives and in some cases our destinies, power that derives simply from the position that they occupy in our lives.
Teachers - call them coach or sensei or mentor or even a real teacher - are different. They can exercise vast influence over lives, from reigning in our small vices to completely changing the course of our lives. The difference is that we ultimately put ourselves under their guidance and control. It is not something that we are forced to do - instead, we do this willingly in the hopes that we will emerge changed and improved on the other side.
I have had many bosses. I have had few teachers - and the teachers I have had always improved me. They have been hard on me - in some cases, far harder than even the worst of bosses. But I have always trusted that in their difficulty, they have had my ultimate growth and success in mind.
Why? Because to put ourselves in the hand of a teacher is to put ourselves in a position of vulnerability and trust. It is to surrender some level of rights of ourselves to another, to make ourself vulnerable in a way that if the teacher fails, will at best embarrass us and at worst hurt us. It is to believe that someone can come into our lives and exercise power over us in a way that will ultimately be to our benefit, not our detriment.
Bottom line? Wherever possible seek out Teachers in every aspect of your life. Bosses - at least all the ones except the Teachers - view us as something which is required for achieving their own goals. Teachers view us as work in progress towards a better, fuller, richer us.
Tuesday, September 08, 2015
The Rest of The Year
So where do I want to end this year?
That is really the question, is it not? With the departure of Labor Day the year picks up speed as we move downhill towards the end of it - before I know it, Christmas will be upon us and then the end of the year.
And do not kid yourself - the weekends are full. Between now and Christmas, I believe I have only four weekends that do not currently not have something filling them up. Na Clann's activities, Throwing, a Training Session, testing - there is a lot packed in. Add in the things I tend to do - Nanowrimo, winter planting - and things seem a bit overwhelming indeed.
So where do I want to end this year?
As I have played it over in my mind, the remaining portion of this year is largely an activity in staging to move into next year. A launching pad, if you will, for what is to come. It means that I will have to get next year's goals in order, of course - but that is something that I have been to lax about in years past. Just as when we cut a target in tameshigiri we cut through the target, not to the target, so the work at the end of this year is meant to move me seamlessly into next year.
Where do I want to end this year? Really, it is where I am going to want to start next year. On 01 January: feet running, sword drawn, charging into the next year with the intent of making it my own, instead of it making me its own.
And knowing where I need to go, it will make the charge that much more effective.
That is really the question, is it not? With the departure of Labor Day the year picks up speed as we move downhill towards the end of it - before I know it, Christmas will be upon us and then the end of the year.
And do not kid yourself - the weekends are full. Between now and Christmas, I believe I have only four weekends that do not currently not have something filling them up. Na Clann's activities, Throwing, a Training Session, testing - there is a lot packed in. Add in the things I tend to do - Nanowrimo, winter planting - and things seem a bit overwhelming indeed.
So where do I want to end this year?
As I have played it over in my mind, the remaining portion of this year is largely an activity in staging to move into next year. A launching pad, if you will, for what is to come. It means that I will have to get next year's goals in order, of course - but that is something that I have been to lax about in years past. Just as when we cut a target in tameshigiri we cut through the target, not to the target, so the work at the end of this year is meant to move me seamlessly into next year.
Where do I want to end this year? Really, it is where I am going to want to start next year. On 01 January: feet running, sword drawn, charging into the next year with the intent of making it my own, instead of it making me its own.
And knowing where I need to go, it will make the charge that much more effective.
Monday, September 07, 2015
Friday, September 04, 2015
In Pursuit of The Perfect Noto
Of all the moves in Iai, none is more undernoticed than the noto.
Noto, or the sheathing of the katana into the saya (sheath), is an action that occurs at the end of almost every kata. For every nukitsuke (draw), there is a noto. Some are dramatic, some are subdued, some seem common in comparison. But ultimately there is always a noto.
In martial arts, every aspect of every thing is important - in that sense it is the ultimate pursuit of a perfection which will never be fully attained. The noto is as valued and trained on as any other aspect of iai. There is a correct way and a way which is less correct. The body, the angle of the saya, the crossing like a "t" that is made across the body as the saya and katana are moved together - all of this matters. To perform a poor noto is as undesirable as a bad cut. Everything matters.
In the six years I have been practitioner of Iaijutsu, I have probably performed thousands of notos in class or in practice. Arguably only in the last month have my notos become consistent enough that I can perhaps believe that I have begun to understand how to actual perform them. Perhaps.
This is stunning if I sit to think about it. 6 years to learn to perform a single action. And a single action which is in some ways the least difficult of all the actions that I do. In a world that values convenience and instant gratification this seems beyond a throwback, especially in that this is something which the world will never see and (most likely) never understand the value of.
But there is value in the pursuit. Every time I practice a noto, every time I seek to move my shoulders less or keep my back straighter or my blade straighter, I force myself a little deeper into the discipline of the pursuit of excellence. I make a little deeper commitment into doing things correctly not for the public recognition of the fact but rather for the sake of the art itself.
And thus I find that in pursuing the perfect noto I am in fact pursuing the very nature of excellence itself, a thing which I may never fully attain - but is fully worth chasing after.
Noto, or the sheathing of the katana into the saya (sheath), is an action that occurs at the end of almost every kata. For every nukitsuke (draw), there is a noto. Some are dramatic, some are subdued, some seem common in comparison. But ultimately there is always a noto.
In martial arts, every aspect of every thing is important - in that sense it is the ultimate pursuit of a perfection which will never be fully attained. The noto is as valued and trained on as any other aspect of iai. There is a correct way and a way which is less correct. The body, the angle of the saya, the crossing like a "t" that is made across the body as the saya and katana are moved together - all of this matters. To perform a poor noto is as undesirable as a bad cut. Everything matters.
In the six years I have been practitioner of Iaijutsu, I have probably performed thousands of notos in class or in practice. Arguably only in the last month have my notos become consistent enough that I can perhaps believe that I have begun to understand how to actual perform them. Perhaps.
This is stunning if I sit to think about it. 6 years to learn to perform a single action. And a single action which is in some ways the least difficult of all the actions that I do. In a world that values convenience and instant gratification this seems beyond a throwback, especially in that this is something which the world will never see and (most likely) never understand the value of.
But there is value in the pursuit. Every time I practice a noto, every time I seek to move my shoulders less or keep my back straighter or my blade straighter, I force myself a little deeper into the discipline of the pursuit of excellence. I make a little deeper commitment into doing things correctly not for the public recognition of the fact but rather for the sake of the art itself.
And thus I find that in pursuing the perfect noto I am in fact pursuing the very nature of excellence itself, a thing which I may never fully attain - but is fully worth chasing after.
Thursday, September 03, 2015
Wednesday, September 02, 2015
Tuesday, September 01, 2015
Monday, August 31, 2015
Two Kinds of People
There are two kinds of people in our lives.
The first kind of people are those that are with us. They come and go in our lives. Perhaps they help us, perhaps them harm us slightly. But they hardly challenge us to be better or different - instead, they have us fit into the agendas of their lives. We fill particular wants or needs within their existences and so a careful and perhaps unconscious game begins in our lives with them, a game in which they neither excessively encourage nor inspire us to change but work to maintain us in their status quo such that we are always doing what they need us to do. In some cases, they would prefer that we tried nothing new or challenging - or at least very small challenges or changes, carefully controlled and not threatening to the larger status quo.
The other kind of people are those that challenge us. They may come and go but I tend to doubt that they ever truly disappear from our lives - like calls to like. These are the ones who seek to make us that best of ourselves that we can be. We have no agendas into which to fit in their lives; instead, their agenda is to as much of their lives as they can, to challenge themselves to be the very best of themselves that they can be. Interestingly, they do not just hold this to themselves; instead, they seek to spread it amongst those that are around them.
So many cannot or will not hear, are happy to simply live a life within the status quo of themselves and very others. But few, a very few, hear the higher call and take the offer extended to them by those that seek to raise them up to the best of themselves that they can be.
Find this people. Seek them out. Spend time with them. Exchange thoughts. Encourage them. Let them encourage you.
And you will find that it will change your life.
Friday, August 28, 2015
Perception
Perception
is an odd thing.
We see the world one way
and others see it another.
Others treat us one way
which we see as another.
What one calls "appreciation"
another calls "silence".
What one calls "gratitude"
another calls "minimum requirements".
One speaks a set of words
but another hears the words entirely differently.
We see the world one way
and others see it another.
Perception
is an odd thing.
is an odd thing.
We see the world one way
and others see it another.
Others treat us one way
which we see as another.
What one calls "appreciation"
another calls "silence".
What one calls "gratitude"
another calls "minimum requirements".
One speaks a set of words
but another hears the words entirely differently.
We see the world one way
and others see it another.
Perception
is an odd thing.
Thursday, August 27, 2015
A Rubicon of Sorts
I believe I am finally done with where I am.
The thought occurred to me this afternoon when, trickling out of a meeting, I walked back to my cube to find the work that I left there waiting for me. And it is not the sort of work that is either engaging or innovative - the sort of document revisions that you have to do to remain compliant, not the sort of things you need to do because it changes the world.
And then, looking at my flickering screen, staring out the windows, listening to the sounds of my disgruntled coworkers, I realized I was done.
The fix is in. I have nowhere to go here. Yes, words will be given and vague promises made to placate any need I feel to move on (after all, I do fill a useful niche) but the chance of actual change is minimal.
In other words, I spend 10 hours a day (8 hours +2 commute) not really going anywhere at all. In life math, 30% of any given week is spent merely treading water.
6 years. Treading water.
Not really sure what this means, of course. There are plenty of good personal reasons to stay in the area, reasons that have indirectly lead me to where I am today. There are some places I might go, but here is as good as any.
But the time is now. I am done treading water. I am done settling for what should be more.
The thought occurred to me this afternoon when, trickling out of a meeting, I walked back to my cube to find the work that I left there waiting for me. And it is not the sort of work that is either engaging or innovative - the sort of document revisions that you have to do to remain compliant, not the sort of things you need to do because it changes the world.
And then, looking at my flickering screen, staring out the windows, listening to the sounds of my disgruntled coworkers, I realized I was done.
The fix is in. I have nowhere to go here. Yes, words will be given and vague promises made to placate any need I feel to move on (after all, I do fill a useful niche) but the chance of actual change is minimal.
In other words, I spend 10 hours a day (8 hours +2 commute) not really going anywhere at all. In life math, 30% of any given week is spent merely treading water.
6 years. Treading water.
Not really sure what this means, of course. There are plenty of good personal reasons to stay in the area, reasons that have indirectly lead me to where I am today. There are some places I might go, but here is as good as any.
But the time is now. I am done treading water. I am done settling for what should be more.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
A Little Steel In The Soul
So one of the outcomes of the Obstacle Course is a little steel in my soul.
It is working itself out in small ways. Standing up to questions instead of just caving in and doing what others ask. Contemplating taking a test based on the fact that I could pass it, not that I will - but with the knowledge that "Could pass" will result in better opportunities later. Distributing small chores to others. Beginning to act (in small, maybe silent ways) more like someone that looks like me but is not.
These are very tentative moves, to be sure. Every single one pushes me a bit outside of my comfort zone. But that is okay - the time has come that I need to be more actively pushed out. Because just waiting around causes you to be pushed in, which serves precisely everyone else but yourself.
Where is this coming from? The race. Every time something has come up I ask myself the question: "Is this more difficult than: climbing a wall, getting out of a pit, crawling through mud, trying to swing over something and fall?" The answer, of course, is always the same.
Of course not.
Of course not - because no matter what situation I face, they almost never involve physical action that at best would be embarrassing and at worst would hurt. All of the actions are mental or relational in nature - perhaps confrontational or controversial, but hardly the sort of thing where the damage is permanent.
I was told by someone not that long ago that I needed to decide what wanted to do and then pursue that. It presented in the context of my career. But there hints that this thing is my soul is hardly the sort of thing to limit itself to one area of my life.
Knowing you can something far above what you actually are doing gives you the confidence to push out that much farther.
It is working itself out in small ways. Standing up to questions instead of just caving in and doing what others ask. Contemplating taking a test based on the fact that I could pass it, not that I will - but with the knowledge that "Could pass" will result in better opportunities later. Distributing small chores to others. Beginning to act (in small, maybe silent ways) more like someone that looks like me but is not.
These are very tentative moves, to be sure. Every single one pushes me a bit outside of my comfort zone. But that is okay - the time has come that I need to be more actively pushed out. Because just waiting around causes you to be pushed in, which serves precisely everyone else but yourself.
Where is this coming from? The race. Every time something has come up I ask myself the question: "Is this more difficult than: climbing a wall, getting out of a pit, crawling through mud, trying to swing over something and fall?" The answer, of course, is always the same.
Of course not.
Of course not - because no matter what situation I face, they almost never involve physical action that at best would be embarrassing and at worst would hurt. All of the actions are mental or relational in nature - perhaps confrontational or controversial, but hardly the sort of thing where the damage is permanent.
I was told by someone not that long ago that I needed to decide what wanted to do and then pursue that. It presented in the context of my career. But there hints that this thing is my soul is hardly the sort of thing to limit itself to one area of my life.
Knowing you can something far above what you actually are doing gives you the confidence to push out that much farther.
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Obstacle Run
This weekend, as I mentioned, I participated in an Obstacle Ru:n, Conquer the Gauntlet:
4.1 miles. 28 obstacles. Prizes consisted of a shirt and medal:
What did I do? I moved 4.1 miles. I climbed walls including a 12 foot one, humped through and over mud, climbed out of a 10 foot pit, tried swing across water obstacles (and failed miserably), crawled on my face in mud, climbed a 15 foot tire chain and then back down, climbed a slanted wall with rope, carried a 40 lb bag for a lap, hammered a block of wood with a sledge and back, and ran and walked through mud. And more mud. 4.1 miles worth of mud.
And all I got was this T-shirt and medal.
One might wonder why a person would do such things. And it would be reasonable to wonder. Even if one was to win the competition, the purse probably pays for the race (just). I finished tired and sore and covered in mud (showering was an hour long affair).
Why do it? Bragging rights, for sure - I finished. I made it. I tried every obstacle (although I failed at a number of them). But I can hold my head up high.
More importantly, I found out I can do things I did not think were possible. I climbed a wall with help and then helped other climb. I heaved myself over and through and under is ways I could not expect. I managed to do one or two obstacles - the 15' tire climb and the slanted wall with the rope -that I not think that I could do.
And most of all, I finished. I kept moving.
How did this change anything?
Because today when I hit a problem I could not solve or something that bothered me instead of getting worked up over it I simply said "I climbed walls and things and crawled through mud this weekend - if I could do that, I can do this."
Maybe I did not find my outer limits this weekend, but I sure got a little closer.
4.1 miles. 28 obstacles. Prizes consisted of a shirt and medal:
What did I do? I moved 4.1 miles. I climbed walls including a 12 foot one, humped through and over mud, climbed out of a 10 foot pit, tried swing across water obstacles (and failed miserably), crawled on my face in mud, climbed a 15 foot tire chain and then back down, climbed a slanted wall with rope, carried a 40 lb bag for a lap, hammered a block of wood with a sledge and back, and ran and walked through mud. And more mud. 4.1 miles worth of mud.
And all I got was this T-shirt and medal.
One might wonder why a person would do such things. And it would be reasonable to wonder. Even if one was to win the competition, the purse probably pays for the race (just). I finished tired and sore and covered in mud (showering was an hour long affair).
Why do it? Bragging rights, for sure - I finished. I made it. I tried every obstacle (although I failed at a number of them). But I can hold my head up high.
More importantly, I found out I can do things I did not think were possible. I climbed a wall with help and then helped other climb. I heaved myself over and through and under is ways I could not expect. I managed to do one or two obstacles - the 15' tire climb and the slanted wall with the rope -that I not think that I could do.
And most of all, I finished. I kept moving.
How did this change anything?
Because today when I hit a problem I could not solve or something that bothered me instead of getting worked up over it I simply said "I climbed walls and things and crawled through mud this weekend - if I could do that, I can do this."
Maybe I did not find my outer limits this weekend, but I sure got a little closer.
Monday, August 24, 2015
Not Deserving
This weekend I participated in an obstacle run (more about this later this week). It was a physical challenge to be sure - 4.1 miles, 28 obstacles. But I finished. And as I mulled over the event in my mind this weekend, I realized that there is a growing dichotomy in my life.
I live the life of quiet desperation.
I queried this in my mind because I cannot understand why it is that there is such a difference in these two things in my mind. How can I push myself for success in one thing (which is seemingly of little import in the vast scope of things) and not transfer that drive, that energy, into the things of my life which I would think would actually make a difference in my life?
I asked the question of Nighean Ruadh in the course of a conversation. Her response? "Because for some reason you believe you don't deserve it."
Ouch.
I sat there with that thought flickering back at me, with that sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach where you know something is true although you do not want to admit it. I know it - in the back of my head, in my heart, I know that thought is there. You do not deserve to succeed. You do not deserve success. Ultimately, you do not deserve to be happy.
Perhaps this is a legacy of the depressed - I think at some level all those who are depressed believe themselves undeserving of any sort of happiness or success - but I do not think that it all. Somehow, somewhere, the thought is lodged in my subconscious that I simply do not deserve to succeed.
Which explains the fact that I can put my time and energy into Highland Athletics and Iai and an Obstacle run: in succeeding, there is no risk of true success in the rest of my life. I can safely achieve something with no danger to my subconscious that there will be success in other areas.
But how do I push this into other areas? This is problem I have to resolve - without that resolution, I will continue to split my life into that which I will do to be successful and that which I will not because I do not deserve to be successful.
And this is simply a life I cannot continue to live.
It is almost as if I am living two lives. In one life - the life that seems to dwell on certain weekends at iaijutsu - I am constantly challenging myself, pushing myself to the limits of what I am (currently) capable of, trying for success as hard as I can for the purposes of bragging rights. In the other life - the life that I live almost 95% of the time - I am living a life which seems to be headed nowhere in particular at a good clip. I get up, I go to work, I do the things one has to live.
I live the life of quiet desperation.
I queried this in my mind because I cannot understand why it is that there is such a difference in these two things in my mind. How can I push myself for success in one thing (which is seemingly of little import in the vast scope of things) and not transfer that drive, that energy, into the things of my life which I would think would actually make a difference in my life?
I asked the question of Nighean Ruadh in the course of a conversation. Her response? "Because for some reason you believe you don't deserve it."
Ouch.
I sat there with that thought flickering back at me, with that sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach where you know something is true although you do not want to admit it. I know it - in the back of my head, in my heart, I know that thought is there. You do not deserve to succeed. You do not deserve success. Ultimately, you do not deserve to be happy.
Perhaps this is a legacy of the depressed - I think at some level all those who are depressed believe themselves undeserving of any sort of happiness or success - but I do not think that it all. Somehow, somewhere, the thought is lodged in my subconscious that I simply do not deserve to succeed.
Which explains the fact that I can put my time and energy into Highland Athletics and Iai and an Obstacle run: in succeeding, there is no risk of true success in the rest of my life. I can safely achieve something with no danger to my subconscious that there will be success in other areas.
But how do I push this into other areas? This is problem I have to resolve - without that resolution, I will continue to split my life into that which I will do to be successful and that which I will not because I do not deserve to be successful.
And this is simply a life I cannot continue to live.
Friday, August 21, 2015
On The Impacting of Ceilings
I ran into a ceiling again yesterday.
It was not a 100% surprise. Something I had suspected for sometime. Still, the actual impact of the reality hurts.
What does one do in such a case? Sure, you hear the usual responses: "Doing a fine job. Everyone is happy with what you are doing. It is just that...well, this is from the highest levels. Outside experience is needed." It still buns a bit of course - after all, the apparent reality is that the ceiling is in place and nothing that you can do will change it.
The demotivation is almost instant, of course. It feels as if one's entire efforts are spent in trying achieve things that simply will never be. One aims at the targets that one thinks are the targets to be aimed at, only to find that such targets are not at all what the key seems to be to advancement. Competence in career and a sincere effort in keeping things going is not enough - it is merely assumed.
I was, as you can imagine, depressed. And then, from a friend, this:
"Push your own agenda" was his accompanying statement.
And then, it made perfect sense. If no-one is going to promote you, work at promoting yourself.
100% room to grow. Not dependent on the goodwill and charity of others.
And certainly, the only ceilings one finds are the ceilings one builds one's self.
It was not a 100% surprise. Something I had suspected for sometime. Still, the actual impact of the reality hurts.
What does one do in such a case? Sure, you hear the usual responses: "Doing a fine job. Everyone is happy with what you are doing. It is just that...well, this is from the highest levels. Outside experience is needed." It still buns a bit of course - after all, the apparent reality is that the ceiling is in place and nothing that you can do will change it.
The demotivation is almost instant, of course. It feels as if one's entire efforts are spent in trying achieve things that simply will never be. One aims at the targets that one thinks are the targets to be aimed at, only to find that such targets are not at all what the key seems to be to advancement. Competence in career and a sincere effort in keeping things going is not enough - it is merely assumed.
I was, as you can imagine, depressed. And then, from a friend, this:
"Push your own agenda" was his accompanying statement.
And then, it made perfect sense. If no-one is going to promote you, work at promoting yourself.
100% room to grow. Not dependent on the goodwill and charity of others.
And certainly, the only ceilings one finds are the ceilings one builds one's self.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Finding The Limits
Finding one's limits is always a painful thing.
They always seem to come in the midst of soaring in midair into a brilliant sunrise. We have convinced ourselves - or perhaps more accurately, have allowed ourselves to become convinced - that we have read all the signs correctly and interpreted the omens favorably. Things are ours for the taking. The sky is truly the limit and the wind is beneath the wings.
And then, like Icarus, the sun melts the wax on our wings and we begin to plunge.
The ground rushes up rather quickly in such situations, leaving us flailing our wings in midair in a sort of vain disbelief as we fall. Surely this is wrong. We asked all the right questions. We read the signs aright. We carefully examined our options and felt this was the best path forward before we fully engaged our wings. We examined the limits and were convinced that we had interpreted that this was the time to move beyond them.
Frantically reviewing our thoughts, we continue to try to review everything that led us up to his point - until we are interrupted by our bodies smacking into the ground.
If we are fortunate, we have hit ground which is yielding to ourselves. We may slowly sit up, seeing if we have any broken bones (bruises, lacerations, and cuts are assumed), then wince our way to our feet. The sky looks awfully far away right now as we try to brush ourselves off and perhaps think over what just happened - and how we could have read things so marvelously awry.
We look up, try to read the signs and wind and sun - and then slowly begin limping our ways towards where the limits are apparently directing us to go. The birds fly over our heads as we creak along, mocking us with a song of the air as we slowly shuffle our way to the dirge of gravity.
They always seem to come in the midst of soaring in midair into a brilliant sunrise. We have convinced ourselves - or perhaps more accurately, have allowed ourselves to become convinced - that we have read all the signs correctly and interpreted the omens favorably. Things are ours for the taking. The sky is truly the limit and the wind is beneath the wings.
And then, like Icarus, the sun melts the wax on our wings and we begin to plunge.
The ground rushes up rather quickly in such situations, leaving us flailing our wings in midair in a sort of vain disbelief as we fall. Surely this is wrong. We asked all the right questions. We read the signs aright. We carefully examined our options and felt this was the best path forward before we fully engaged our wings. We examined the limits and were convinced that we had interpreted that this was the time to move beyond them.
Frantically reviewing our thoughts, we continue to try to review everything that led us up to his point - until we are interrupted by our bodies smacking into the ground.
If we are fortunate, we have hit ground which is yielding to ourselves. We may slowly sit up, seeing if we have any broken bones (bruises, lacerations, and cuts are assumed), then wince our way to our feet. The sky looks awfully far away right now as we try to brush ourselves off and perhaps think over what just happened - and how we could have read things so marvelously awry.
We look up, try to read the signs and wind and sun - and then slowly begin limping our ways towards where the limits are apparently directing us to go. The birds fly over our heads as we creak along, mocking us with a song of the air as we slowly shuffle our way to the dirge of gravity.
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Scent and Memory
Walking through my local high end grocery store last night I was struck by a wave of nostalgia.
I was rounding the cheese section and making way through the peanut and other nut butters, killing time until a class started, when suddenly I caught a scent. A scent I had not smelled in some time. A scent of someone I have not seen in a long while.
The smell ripped me back - in fact, I was looking around, trying to find out if someone was wearing that perfume. I must have looked like a fool, slowly trolling the peanut butters, smelling away. The scent was there though. Definitive. Unique.
Memory.
Scent is a funny thing. It has the ability to take us back in an instant to a person or place. It can be something which we cannot fully verbalize - "It smells like" we might say, but we can never really describe the smell until we smell it again. Then suddenly that place, that person come vividly alive in our mind, the association is so strong.
I have had it happen returning to a place I had not been to in 30 years thousands of miles removed. I have had it happen with the scent that my Granny always had in her bathroom, in the Old Spice my father wore growing up, in the smell of my best friend's house.
All of those memories come flooding back in an instant: the places, the various times spent together. All there, standing in front of the peanut butter.
I made the circle again and sure enough, I found it there again. It was not tied to a person but rather to something in that aisle. I kept looking. Some kind of chemical free laundry soap, the stuff that was used on the laundry.
It all made a certain sense, something beyond time and space that was not fully controllable and yet, standing in wedged between cleaning supplies and nut butters, made all the sense in the world.
I was rounding the cheese section and making way through the peanut and other nut butters, killing time until a class started, when suddenly I caught a scent. A scent I had not smelled in some time. A scent of someone I have not seen in a long while.
The smell ripped me back - in fact, I was looking around, trying to find out if someone was wearing that perfume. I must have looked like a fool, slowly trolling the peanut butters, smelling away. The scent was there though. Definitive. Unique.
Memory.
Scent is a funny thing. It has the ability to take us back in an instant to a person or place. It can be something which we cannot fully verbalize - "It smells like" we might say, but we can never really describe the smell until we smell it again. Then suddenly that place, that person come vividly alive in our mind, the association is so strong.
I have had it happen returning to a place I had not been to in 30 years thousands of miles removed. I have had it happen with the scent that my Granny always had in her bathroom, in the Old Spice my father wore growing up, in the smell of my best friend's house.
All of those memories come flooding back in an instant: the places, the various times spent together. All there, standing in front of the peanut butter.
I made the circle again and sure enough, I found it there again. It was not tied to a person but rather to something in that aisle. I kept looking. Some kind of chemical free laundry soap, the stuff that was used on the laundry.
It all made a certain sense, something beyond time and space that was not fully controllable and yet, standing in wedged between cleaning supplies and nut butters, made all the sense in the world.
Monday, August 17, 2015
Friday, August 14, 2015
Gone Throwing
Today I leave for a weekend of throwing.
Well, really a two days of helping and a day of throwing, plus set up and break down. My reward for this endeavor? Heat, sweat, a floor to sleep on, a ride to and from, water, snacks, and a shirt suitable for wearing.
Oh, and seeing the best group of people of the world. And pushing the heck out of myself to try.
I am badly in need of a weekend such as this, a weekend where I can cast aside all responsibilities and all concerns and just be a guy there to help and see his friends and go and throw things. It is a luxury almost, the luxury of being one's self in the midst of friends being themselves to throwing and laughing and the speaking of smack.
On the other side of this, of course, I will probably be completely exhausted, bearing some sort of unusual sunburn, and creaking around all Monday morning. But it will be totally worth it - after all, how often can a man say he has spent a weekend doing what he truly loves, and all of it for the price of a little effort.
Well, really a two days of helping and a day of throwing, plus set up and break down. My reward for this endeavor? Heat, sweat, a floor to sleep on, a ride to and from, water, snacks, and a shirt suitable for wearing.
Oh, and seeing the best group of people of the world. And pushing the heck out of myself to try.
I am badly in need of a weekend such as this, a weekend where I can cast aside all responsibilities and all concerns and just be a guy there to help and see his friends and go and throw things. It is a luxury almost, the luxury of being one's self in the midst of friends being themselves to throwing and laughing and the speaking of smack.
On the other side of this, of course, I will probably be completely exhausted, bearing some sort of unusual sunburn, and creaking around all Monday morning. But it will be totally worth it - after all, how often can a man say he has spent a weekend doing what he truly loves, and all of it for the price of a little effort.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Of Purpose and N/As
Even in my seeming retreat from the world at large, things still tend to leak in - even within my own world.
The news about Google changing its structure sank into even my world with a bit of a shock. One has followed Google, of course, even if they are not always my most favorite company in the world. They have indeed do a great number of things and seek to do a great many more. A new parent holding company, a listing of their ongoing ventures - quite heady stuff indeed.
And then as I read it and pondered it, I suddenly took at look at what I was doing for the day: lining through documents with an "N/A", page after page after page. Hardly the stuff of world class innovation.
What did I want to do once upon time? When I got of college or even before? What were my goals, my dreams? I do not know that they were so formally thought out as such - but am at least sure that they were, in some way, doing something heroic and making the world a better place.
I am always grateful when stories like this happen, mostly because somewhere in my soul there is a stirring to recapture something of that magic. Those goals of changing the world, of making the world better, of being heroic. It is good to know that somehow those things have not fully died.
At the same time, it also makes me ask the question: why am I here?
Duty, of course. But duty is somewhat of a harsh master followed long enough. It grinds us down and steals our time, leaving only dull sensation of having done what needed to be done. Without something beyond this, something that we can point to and say "The world is better because of this", it can leave us dry and brittle.
So what would doing something meaningful like that work like? I do not have even a partial clarity on it at the present time. But I do know a few things, like spending almost two hours a day driving to somewhere that reviewing paperwork and entering "N/A" in blanks in paperwork is hardly the sort of thing that is making the world changed or better or heroic.
So I need to ask better questions. And find an answer. And move forward. Or be prepared to explain why "N/A" somehow made a huge difference.
The news about Google changing its structure sank into even my world with a bit of a shock. One has followed Google, of course, even if they are not always my most favorite company in the world. They have indeed do a great number of things and seek to do a great many more. A new parent holding company, a listing of their ongoing ventures - quite heady stuff indeed.
And then as I read it and pondered it, I suddenly took at look at what I was doing for the day: lining through documents with an "N/A", page after page after page. Hardly the stuff of world class innovation.
What did I want to do once upon time? When I got of college or even before? What were my goals, my dreams? I do not know that they were so formally thought out as such - but am at least sure that they were, in some way, doing something heroic and making the world a better place.
I am always grateful when stories like this happen, mostly because somewhere in my soul there is a stirring to recapture something of that magic. Those goals of changing the world, of making the world better, of being heroic. It is good to know that somehow those things have not fully died.
At the same time, it also makes me ask the question: why am I here?
Duty, of course. But duty is somewhat of a harsh master followed long enough. It grinds us down and steals our time, leaving only dull sensation of having done what needed to be done. Without something beyond this, something that we can point to and say "The world is better because of this", it can leave us dry and brittle.
So what would doing something meaningful like that work like? I do not have even a partial clarity on it at the present time. But I do know a few things, like spending almost two hours a day driving to somewhere that reviewing paperwork and entering "N/A" in blanks in paperwork is hardly the sort of thing that is making the world changed or better or heroic.
So I need to ask better questions. And find an answer. And move forward. Or be prepared to explain why "N/A" somehow made a huge difference.
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Away From The World
I have inadvertently cocooned myself away from the world.
It seems to have happened accidentally - and by accidentally, I mean I simply ran out of time during the normal course of affairs. Something had to give - and so, it was my tracking of the ongoing events of the world. It started off with not tracking the news of the world, both from aggregator sites and from things such as Twitter. It slowly extended through Facebook until it reached the circle of blogs that I follow - every day, getting smaller.
My radio has remained in the "not on news" arena, with either CDs or podcasts or even just silence to accompany my drive. My mailbox, having been cleared of most daily inputs, leaves me little to know about the world at large.
With a little more effort, I could be an island in the midst of an urban stream.
Am I particularly happier? Not that I can tell - a lack of knowledge of the outside world's goings on is not enough to generate a better life per se. And certainly the occasional bits that have filtered in leave me none too sad that I have been missing out.
But I can say this: not knowing what is going on has lead to a greater lack of existential nervousness in my life. I do not know what is going on in the world, and can therefore not stress about it. Certain that time and energy of the stress has been absorbed by wedging my life in a little bit more around the edges of where I live.
And that, arguably, is better no matter how you look at it.
It seems to have happened accidentally - and by accidentally, I mean I simply ran out of time during the normal course of affairs. Something had to give - and so, it was my tracking of the ongoing events of the world. It started off with not tracking the news of the world, both from aggregator sites and from things such as Twitter. It slowly extended through Facebook until it reached the circle of blogs that I follow - every day, getting smaller.
My radio has remained in the "not on news" arena, with either CDs or podcasts or even just silence to accompany my drive. My mailbox, having been cleared of most daily inputs, leaves me little to know about the world at large.
With a little more effort, I could be an island in the midst of an urban stream.
Am I particularly happier? Not that I can tell - a lack of knowledge of the outside world's goings on is not enough to generate a better life per se. And certainly the occasional bits that have filtered in leave me none too sad that I have been missing out.
But I can say this: not knowing what is going on has lead to a greater lack of existential nervousness in my life. I do not know what is going on in the world, and can therefore not stress about it. Certain that time and energy of the stress has been absorbed by wedging my life in a little bit more around the edges of where I live.
And that, arguably, is better no matter how you look at it.
Monday, August 10, 2015
Saturday, August 08, 2015
The Theory of Politics versus Politics
There are times I actually hope I do not make it through the 2016 political cycle.
As I have often stated, I do not do politics here (and not this time either, so perish the thought of partisan comments). At one time perhaps I thought I would, but what I found is that trying to have any sort of discussion about anything remotely controversial on the Internet is like trying to stop a lava flow with an ice cube: it will not work and you will get severely burned in the process. People who are true believers are passionate - and passion, like lava, can burn what it touches.
Social media has only made this phenomenon worse. And we are only early into the season, through the first round of preliminary debates for one side.
We seem to have become a group of partisans, not thinkers, with large swaths of groups adhering to one side or another almost blindly. We (for the most part) have become impervious to the consideration of opinions outside of own views. Disagreement has become not reasoned discussion but downright stupidity at best or treason at worst. Sadly, we have become sports fans who blindly root for their team despite the serious problems with that team against any and all comers.
It has made me sit and think about things.
What it made me realize is that I like Political Theory, not so much politics.
Once upon a time (slightly after the Earth cooled) I got a degree in Political Science. It was not necessarily the greatest choice in employable degrees, but what I loved about it was that it brought together a number of different disciplines: Political Geography, Economics, History, Philosophy, and even Political Theory. It encouraged us to think of governance starting with a philosophical outlook and then mapping out the practical outcomes of that philosophy. And by the use of history ("There is nothing new under the sun") it allowed us to go back and review the outcomes of what worked, what did not, and the ramifications of either event.
Since then, I have engaged in a series of additional readings and education - mostly of the Classical Authors that dealt with such things or biographies about key people or histories of periods of time. What runs through the Classical Authors - Confucius, Sun Tzu, Plato, Aristotle, Plutarch, Tacitus, even Machiavelli (who wrote a fine review of the Roman Republic called The Discourses) - is the idea that underlying systems are the people that manage (rule, govern) those systems. How you arrive at those people (and indeed, the general population) can be done in various ways; what is implied is that politics and governing is a conscious system, not merely a "popularity contest" decided upon not only by money and fame but by the people who we think are most like us, not necessarily the best for us. People make policies; policies have outcomes; outcomes have ramifications. The Medical Professions first rule is "Do Not Harm"; would that we applied the same rule to our governance.
Practically, what does this mean? As you may intuit, my hopes that anything like a "National Acting Like Political Theorists" movement is pretty slim. And I am not choosing sides: everywhere I look around the landscape, both from any candidate as well as from the general population both close to me and social media-wise, I see very little hope that these sorts of questions are going to be asked. Which is fine, of course - I am sure that every side would equally find me in some way unpalatable to their cause.
What I can do - what I must do - is continue to read and learn and think deeply about such things. I cannot change the tide, but I can ready myself for the day that the tide recedes and staring at the beach, people ask "What shall we do now?"
My simple answer will be "Let us think a bit before we make any rash decisions."
As I have often stated, I do not do politics here (and not this time either, so perish the thought of partisan comments). At one time perhaps I thought I would, but what I found is that trying to have any sort of discussion about anything remotely controversial on the Internet is like trying to stop a lava flow with an ice cube: it will not work and you will get severely burned in the process. People who are true believers are passionate - and passion, like lava, can burn what it touches.
Social media has only made this phenomenon worse. And we are only early into the season, through the first round of preliminary debates for one side.
We seem to have become a group of partisans, not thinkers, with large swaths of groups adhering to one side or another almost blindly. We (for the most part) have become impervious to the consideration of opinions outside of own views. Disagreement has become not reasoned discussion but downright stupidity at best or treason at worst. Sadly, we have become sports fans who blindly root for their team despite the serious problems with that team against any and all comers.
It has made me sit and think about things.
What it made me realize is that I like Political Theory, not so much politics.
Once upon a time (slightly after the Earth cooled) I got a degree in Political Science. It was not necessarily the greatest choice in employable degrees, but what I loved about it was that it brought together a number of different disciplines: Political Geography, Economics, History, Philosophy, and even Political Theory. It encouraged us to think of governance starting with a philosophical outlook and then mapping out the practical outcomes of that philosophy. And by the use of history ("There is nothing new under the sun") it allowed us to go back and review the outcomes of what worked, what did not, and the ramifications of either event.
Since then, I have engaged in a series of additional readings and education - mostly of the Classical Authors that dealt with such things or biographies about key people or histories of periods of time. What runs through the Classical Authors - Confucius, Sun Tzu, Plato, Aristotle, Plutarch, Tacitus, even Machiavelli (who wrote a fine review of the Roman Republic called The Discourses) - is the idea that underlying systems are the people that manage (rule, govern) those systems. How you arrive at those people (and indeed, the general population) can be done in various ways; what is implied is that politics and governing is a conscious system, not merely a "popularity contest" decided upon not only by money and fame but by the people who we think are most like us, not necessarily the best for us. People make policies; policies have outcomes; outcomes have ramifications. The Medical Professions first rule is "Do Not Harm"; would that we applied the same rule to our governance.
Practically, what does this mean? As you may intuit, my hopes that anything like a "National Acting Like Political Theorists" movement is pretty slim. And I am not choosing sides: everywhere I look around the landscape, both from any candidate as well as from the general population both close to me and social media-wise, I see very little hope that these sorts of questions are going to be asked. Which is fine, of course - I am sure that every side would equally find me in some way unpalatable to their cause.
What I can do - what I must do - is continue to read and learn and think deeply about such things. I cannot change the tide, but I can ready myself for the day that the tide recedes and staring at the beach, people ask "What shall we do now?"
My simple answer will be "Let us think a bit before we make any rash decisions."
Friday, August 07, 2015
On The Turning Away
On the turning away
From the pale and downtrodden
And the words they say
Which we won't understand
"Don't accept that what's happening
Is just a case of others' suffering
Or you'll find that you're joining in
The turning away"
It's a sin that somehow
Light is changing to shadow
And casting it's shroud
Over all we have known
Unaware how the ranks have grown
Driven on by a heart of stone
We could find that we're all alone
In the dream of the proud
On the wings of the night
As the daytime is stirring
Where the speechless unite
In a silent accord
Using words you will find are strange
And mesmerized as they light the flame
Feel the new wind of change
On the wings of the night
No more turning away
From the weak and the weary
No more turning away
From the coldness inside
Just a world that we all must share
It's not enough just to stand and stare
Is it only a dream that there'll be
No more turning away?
(Pink Floyd, Writers David Gilmour and Anthony Moore)
From the pale and downtrodden
And the words they say
Which we won't understand
"Don't accept that what's happening
Is just a case of others' suffering
Or you'll find that you're joining in
The turning away"
It's a sin that somehow
Light is changing to shadow
And casting it's shroud
Over all we have known
Unaware how the ranks have grown
Driven on by a heart of stone
We could find that we're all alone
In the dream of the proud
On the wings of the night
As the daytime is stirring
Where the speechless unite
In a silent accord
Using words you will find are strange
And mesmerized as they light the flame
Feel the new wind of change
On the wings of the night
No more turning away
From the weak and the weary
No more turning away
From the coldness inside
Just a world that we all must share
It's not enough just to stand and stare
Is it only a dream that there'll be
No more turning away?
(Pink Floyd, Writers David Gilmour and Anthony Moore)
Thursday, August 06, 2015
Take The Long Way Home
Life is a funny confluence of events, leading me to believe God has a purpose. Or a sense of irony. Or maybe a sense of humor.
On Monday I closed one curtain. It was a curtain that had been open for two years and a number of good things had happened as a result, but (as with many things) it was time to bring the curtain down, if only for a time. The curtain was closed prior to the typical event on Wednesday.
And then on Wednesday, another event happened, one I had not expected. One that was made possible because of the cancellation of the first event.
The Other Event was good as well, the sort of thing that went very well indeed. But the sort of thing that leaves you driving home looking into a horizon beyond which you cannot see.
Life is full of paths not taken, roads not traveled. I suppose we like to believe that we always make the best choices possible based on the circumstances, but sometimes the whole thing leaves one a bit behind, as if Life has moved on and left you behind.
Without the one thing, the other would not have happened. And I believe that God is active in our lives, bringing events and people into our lives for His purposes, not necessarily our own. So the one thing was meant to happen, and so was the other.
Driving home, looking into the Northern sky and feeling the hot summer heat radiating through the car, I felt a bit like Treebeard: almost alone in a world that had moved on, confined to the borders of my land. The future was here, but I was apparently not.
And then "Take The Long Way Home" by SuperTramp showed up in my mind.
It described my state of mind perfectly: life is a stage and always playing to the gallery is what we do, even as the self importance we ascribe to ourselves is mostly in our mind. I found the song on You Tube and played it, singing along at the top of my lungs.
And yes, sometimes I do look through the years and see what I could of been, what I might have been, if I made different decisions.
But mostly now, I take the Long Way Home.
So you think you're a Romeo
playing a part in a picture-show
Take the long way home
Take the long way home
'Cause you're the joke of the neighborhood
Why should you care if you're feeling good
Take the long way home
Take the long way home
But there are times that you feel you're part of the scenery
All the greenery is comin' down, boy
And then your wife seems to think you're part of the
furniture oh, it's peculiar, she used to be so nice.
When lonely days turn to lonely nights
You take a trip to the city lights
And take the long way home
Take the long way home
You never see what you want to see
Forever playing to the gallery
You take the long way home
Take the long way home
And when you're up on the stage, it's so unbelievable,
Oh unforgettable, how they adore you,
But then your wife seems to think you're losing your sanity,
Oh, calamity, is there no way out?
Does it feel that your life's become a catastrophe?
Oh, it has to be for you to grow , boy.
When you look through the years and see what you could
have been oh, what you might have been,
If you'd had more time.
So, when the day comes to settle down,
Who's to blame if you're not around?
You took the long way home
You took the long way home...
(Richard Davies/Roger Hodgson)
On Monday I closed one curtain. It was a curtain that had been open for two years and a number of good things had happened as a result, but (as with many things) it was time to bring the curtain down, if only for a time. The curtain was closed prior to the typical event on Wednesday.
And then on Wednesday, another event happened, one I had not expected. One that was made possible because of the cancellation of the first event.
The Other Event was good as well, the sort of thing that went very well indeed. But the sort of thing that leaves you driving home looking into a horizon beyond which you cannot see.
Life is full of paths not taken, roads not traveled. I suppose we like to believe that we always make the best choices possible based on the circumstances, but sometimes the whole thing leaves one a bit behind, as if Life has moved on and left you behind.
Without the one thing, the other would not have happened. And I believe that God is active in our lives, bringing events and people into our lives for His purposes, not necessarily our own. So the one thing was meant to happen, and so was the other.
Driving home, looking into the Northern sky and feeling the hot summer heat radiating through the car, I felt a bit like Treebeard: almost alone in a world that had moved on, confined to the borders of my land. The future was here, but I was apparently not.
And then "Take The Long Way Home" by SuperTramp showed up in my mind.
It described my state of mind perfectly: life is a stage and always playing to the gallery is what we do, even as the self importance we ascribe to ourselves is mostly in our mind. I found the song on You Tube and played it, singing along at the top of my lungs.
And yes, sometimes I do look through the years and see what I could of been, what I might have been, if I made different decisions.
But mostly now, I take the Long Way Home.
So you think you're a Romeo
playing a part in a picture-show
Take the long way home
Take the long way home
'Cause you're the joke of the neighborhood
Why should you care if you're feeling good
Take the long way home
Take the long way home
But there are times that you feel you're part of the scenery
All the greenery is comin' down, boy
And then your wife seems to think you're part of the
furniture oh, it's peculiar, she used to be so nice.
When lonely days turn to lonely nights
You take a trip to the city lights
And take the long way home
Take the long way home
You never see what you want to see
Forever playing to the gallery
You take the long way home
Take the long way home
And when you're up on the stage, it's so unbelievable,
Oh unforgettable, how they adore you,
But then your wife seems to think you're losing your sanity,
Oh, calamity, is there no way out?
Does it feel that your life's become a catastrophe?
Oh, it has to be for you to grow , boy.
When you look through the years and see what you could
have been oh, what you might have been,
If you'd had more time.
So, when the day comes to settle down,
Who's to blame if you're not around?
You took the long way home
You took the long way home...
(Richard Davies/Roger Hodgson)
Wednesday, August 05, 2015
2015 Garden Update
In the constant land of learning, the garden has been a world of education this year.
As I have mentioned before (and numerous times), gardening somewhere new is also about learning what grows where. This year has been no different but with some surprises:
- Onions: My onions from fall planting did okay. My spring planting, less so. Only Fall plantings.
- Garlic: Same as onions. See above.
- Tomatoes: So this year I actually got some tomatoes from one plant but both plants are infected with something. Interestingly, the volunteer cherry tomatoes that came in the new garden section are doing great. It suggests the location has an significant impact.
- Pumpkins: They did well but were done by June.
- Cantaloupe: These have really taken off in the heat. I may actually get some fruit.
- Corn: Same as last year: stunted stalks, small ears. I may get enough to make up what I planted. I wonder if planting earlier before the true heat will give a better yield?
- Beans: I managed to beat the cutworms but then the survivors got wiped out by rabbits (I think). Need fencing.
- Okra: The plants never took off due to location and then were eaten down. As last year's crop was huge, I think this is location based.
- Jalapeno: My plant has not done well this year. It is stunted and has very few peppers.
- Sorghum: This did great! Only trick is to beat the birds to the grain heads.
- Black Eyed Peas: Once again, the crown winner of sprouting and looking green. I planted them late but they have responded beautifully to the heat.
The outcomes have given me some thoughts going into the fall and winter, such as:
- The planting along the fence should only be grains for the winter and spring. The Sun exposure is not enough to make it worth it in the summer and watering is an issue.
- I think with proper management I could get more out of the narrow cleared area than the larger area. I need to look at better management of the area.
Gardening: An exercise in controlled futility with occasional successes.
As I have mentioned before (and numerous times), gardening somewhere new is also about learning what grows where. This year has been no different but with some surprises:
- Onions: My onions from fall planting did okay. My spring planting, less so. Only Fall plantings.
- Garlic: Same as onions. See above.
- Tomatoes: So this year I actually got some tomatoes from one plant but both plants are infected with something. Interestingly, the volunteer cherry tomatoes that came in the new garden section are doing great. It suggests the location has an significant impact.
- Pumpkins: They did well but were done by June.
- Cantaloupe: These have really taken off in the heat. I may actually get some fruit.
- Corn: Same as last year: stunted stalks, small ears. I may get enough to make up what I planted. I wonder if planting earlier before the true heat will give a better yield?
- Beans: I managed to beat the cutworms but then the survivors got wiped out by rabbits (I think). Need fencing.
- Okra: The plants never took off due to location and then were eaten down. As last year's crop was huge, I think this is location based.
- Jalapeno: My plant has not done well this year. It is stunted and has very few peppers.
- Sorghum: This did great! Only trick is to beat the birds to the grain heads.
- Black Eyed Peas: Once again, the crown winner of sprouting and looking green. I planted them late but they have responded beautifully to the heat.
The outcomes have given me some thoughts going into the fall and winter, such as:
- The planting along the fence should only be grains for the winter and spring. The Sun exposure is not enough to make it worth it in the summer and watering is an issue.
- I think with proper management I could get more out of the narrow cleared area than the larger area. I need to look at better management of the area.
Gardening: An exercise in controlled futility with occasional successes.
Tuesday, August 04, 2015
The Between
From the Origin to the Destination
lies the Between, that place where
we live our lives.
It neither really here nor there,
a shadowland of becoming
in the midst of living.
Becoming in the Between
means always feeling displaced,
lost, never quite sure of the footing.
Why? Because Between is not where we are going
nor where we are coming from;
it is the murky fact that we are - unfinished.
Therefore despair not if you feel
lost in between:
it merely means you have not yet arrived.
lies the Between, that place where
we live our lives.
It neither really here nor there,
a shadowland of becoming
in the midst of living.
Becoming in the Between
means always feeling displaced,
lost, never quite sure of the footing.
Why? Because Between is not where we are going
nor where we are coming from;
it is the murky fact that we are - unfinished.
Therefore despair not if you feel
lost in between:
it merely means you have not yet arrived.
Monday, August 03, 2015
Glimmers of Clarity
Glimmers of clarity do not come often. But, occasionally, they come.
There was a sense last night, driving home from getting some last minute groceries, that I had suddenly had some clarity, clarity on things that I could not have predicted last Thursday. It is always a shock when such things occur - I look so long for such things and yet am surprised when they suddenly appear.
What pushed things to the moment?
- A letter from someone indicating the positive impact I had on their life.
- Picking up the beginnings of a physical training program and finding that in doing, I feel more powerful and alive.
-The realization that for now, where I am career wise is where I need to be - for reasons that have nothing to do with my career.
- An acceptance of the fact that a part of my experience has reached the point of usefulness and I need to move on.
- A realization (or maybe a re-realization, perhaps) of my importance within my family.
- Finally, a quiet acceptance of the fact that the principles of Christianity I claim to value need to be lived out more fully in every aspect of my life, not just spiritual part.
So what does this practically mean?
Well, for one thing it means that I am informally taking myself out of the job search market, at least actively. I will review things that come in, but I am not going to go out of my way to search.
Secondly, it means accepting that there are things to work on and get better at, things that I can spend my time on beneficially. Oddly enough, these things may hardly represent career enhancing issues. Things like
- Writing
- Physical training (lifting, Heavy Athletics)
- Ichiryo Gusoku (Gardening and Cheese here, with perhaps a touch of quail and bees)
- Languages (something I truly love), with the intent of actually having something useful instead of just head knowledge.
- Iaijutsu
- Music (Harp here, I think)
- Family (yes, I know, it is a given, but still needs to be on the list)
- God (specifically both on a personal level as well as truly getting involved in a corporate body of worship).
In fact, as I look at this list, I see that precisely none of this directly would improve my career. And maybe that is okay. Because perhaps the more relevant question is this: if I simply let go of my focus of my career (and my long running unhappiness therewith) would it put me any farther from fulfilling the true purpose of why I am here or would it move me closer?
There was a sense last night, driving home from getting some last minute groceries, that I had suddenly had some clarity, clarity on things that I could not have predicted last Thursday. It is always a shock when such things occur - I look so long for such things and yet am surprised when they suddenly appear.
What pushed things to the moment?
- A letter from someone indicating the positive impact I had on their life.
- Picking up the beginnings of a physical training program and finding that in doing, I feel more powerful and alive.
-The realization that for now, where I am career wise is where I need to be - for reasons that have nothing to do with my career.
- An acceptance of the fact that a part of my experience has reached the point of usefulness and I need to move on.
- A realization (or maybe a re-realization, perhaps) of my importance within my family.
- Finally, a quiet acceptance of the fact that the principles of Christianity I claim to value need to be lived out more fully in every aspect of my life, not just spiritual part.
So what does this practically mean?
Well, for one thing it means that I am informally taking myself out of the job search market, at least actively. I will review things that come in, but I am not going to go out of my way to search.
Secondly, it means accepting that there are things to work on and get better at, things that I can spend my time on beneficially. Oddly enough, these things may hardly represent career enhancing issues. Things like
- Writing
- Physical training (lifting, Heavy Athletics)
- Ichiryo Gusoku (Gardening and Cheese here, with perhaps a touch of quail and bees)
- Languages (something I truly love), with the intent of actually having something useful instead of just head knowledge.
- Iaijutsu
- Music (Harp here, I think)
- Family (yes, I know, it is a given, but still needs to be on the list)
- God (specifically both on a personal level as well as truly getting involved in a corporate body of worship).
In fact, as I look at this list, I see that precisely none of this directly would improve my career. And maybe that is okay. Because perhaps the more relevant question is this: if I simply let go of my focus of my career (and my long running unhappiness therewith) would it put me any farther from fulfilling the true purpose of why I am here or would it move me closer?
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