My laptop notes on the two recent conferences I attended in LA might be scary stuff for many people - artificial intelligence, immersive digital gaming, genetics and DNA manipulation, human enhancement technology, mind control, androids, robots, personal avatars . . .
Scary enough for me to attend, as mentioned in my previous blog entry. Another big conference buzz was the upcoming film “Avatar”.
So I went to see it when it opened.
I prepared to be subliminally programmed and blasted with more “Matrix” and “2012” conspiracy theory on mind control and The End of the World. I was sitting in the back row. Through it all, the number of people who had to take off their 3-D glasses, squirm out of their seat in a sold-out theater and sprint to the lobby was staggering. . . popcorn, the restroom, their texts . . . My view was constantly interrupted.
How do you explain this in Marin County, home of ILM (George Lucas) that created the digital imagery for this film? What was nervy to these people no other ILM production and story line seemed to deliver on an opening night? Most didn’t even wait for the credits, another big no-no for locals.
I checked out some movie reviews later. Several reviewers accused Avatar of being a re-purposed “Dancing With Wolves”.
Sure, the Na’vi on Pandora looked rather native, and the White-Guy-turned-treasonist hero could have been You-Know-Who, but to me, that just described a movie reviewer who had to get up for popcorn, the restroom, text . . .
Is that all they got out of it? That’s too benign, considering the behavior of the audience at the first public showing. Is it possible many reviewers and movie-goers are unaware of our amazing technological present and our even more amazing future? Is it time, after throwing away the TV to throw another one again and find out what's really happening?
The plot for this film is vanilla sci-fi and a good dose of operating reality so far on Planet Earth. There are giveaways like the "military industrial complex", conquering space, taking down alien civilizations, and like the hero in "Indiana Jones" grabbing The Big Goodie.
The simplicity of the White Guy's predicament is what allowed me to see everything else going on in this film. His spine, blasted to pieces in an unpopular war leaves him a paraplegic. The Military transports him to a rehab Mother Ship, but he’s now worthless as a fighting machine. They decide to use him as a disposable Avatar on planet Pandora to infiltrate the Na’vi and find their “unobtanium”. (the one funny morpheme in the film).
His brain is transported to this fantastical utopia Trekkie-style, and our hero has an “out-of-body” moment on Visit One. As his new Avatar-double, he discovers he’s not only super-human, he’s got his legs back.
They can’t control him. Knocking down the furniture and everything else, he escapes his orientation military camp in a state of euphoria, running his superhuman legs and heart out.
The film has a happy ending. He dumps his paralytic reality and chooses his Avatar reality (well, what would you do?). His Pandora Squeeze, who has been assigned to him as a guide by the clueless Na’vi, demonstrates in her spare time how to do just about everything fun, including mastery of a wildly fantastic horse and a spactacularly raptor-esque bird, reminiscent of the strategic creation in the animated "Ants".
Of course this is all sci-fi. Maybe. After these conferences, I’m not so sure.
Still searching for a clue, I opened my file on brain science a week later to write a piece on Avatar. I found a torn-out article from MensVogue I bought in an airport a few years ago written by D.T. Max, a Harvard graduate and book reviewer. The title “Wired for Victory. Can a bunch of electrodes and a computer screen help you swim faster?” got my attention.
Now I’m reading it again. This sounds like the White Guy/Avatar. Max mentions “the zone” and biofeedback performed on athletes like Katy. Connected to biofeedback, she is described by her evaluator as “looking at nothing and everything”, “emptying out her brain”, and “a suspension of doubt” that results in her optimal athletic performance.
Aha. The White Guy/Avatar.
Max, at the end of his article, mentions a Morgan Stanley manager who, after biofeedback had a tennis game performance “that soared”. And after biofeedback, Max, a swimmer, was in the pool on a lap swim when he felt “a familiar light joyousness” in his body. When the pain of his messed up shoulder came up, he envisioned “speeding waves of alpha” carrying him along. Enjoying his liberating mindlessness, “I felt I was no longer alone. A dolphin was leading me. My body began undulating like a brain wave. I followed my friend with pleasure. He was always ahead of me.”
Max was describing his instant “knowingness” how to swim like a dolphin. He forgot his shoulder, the pool, time . . .
“Every so often, I would hear a distinct “ding” in my brain. The positive audio reinforcement that rewards open concentration during neurofeedback. I got out of the water. The dolphin was gone. I looked at my watch. I had broken my previous best and my shoulder hurt like hell.”
Our White Guy hated returning to the Military Mothership planning its assault on Pandora. He needed a wheelchair. He hurt like hell. Only on Pandora could he best his human self every time.
I didn’t get at all this film was another “Dancing With Wolves”. I think the reviewers totally missed the point, and maybe half the audience.
The White Guy was in The Zone, and his brain transported him there. With a little help from science.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
Smacking down Santa, astrology, and myth
I have been recently checking out the hundreds of asteroids discovered by cosmologists near 1997 who were apparently unconsciously naming them after more Greek mythological gods and goddesses, like the planets in our solar system. What could be the significance of this?
Participating in the third dimension involves the playing out of The Game (I love Florence Scovel Shinn's take on this) through mythology, legend, ritual, and storytelling. When we do this, we honor our ancestry by initiating the new ones (cultural respect).
I don't doubt realities like "Indigo children" and those born with a new wired brain. These incarnates are less inclined to participate in ritual and myth because they were born with different frequencies and resonance that allow them to remember instantaneously what The Game really is.
I do think however, if we are to own our responsibility to help others through this shift of awareness, we need, as a traditional saying recommends "when in Rome, do as the Romans do".
The I Ching infers this in the hexagram "The Wanderer". When we want to learn and influence, we cross borders. We explore with the intention to enlarge ourselves through empathy. We will be diminished however, if we are responded to as if we are an alien (even if we are!). In fact, there are those who believe “extraterrestrials” will not walk the planet with us until we stop with the alienating behavior toward aliens.
Many are wanderers now, disenfranchised from all kinds of indigenous cultures, family, lovers, careers, heritage, and shaken from the harshness of diaspora.
Few of us have a village of origin now that we remain in for long. Our survival requires us to be vigilant in our awareness of our current environment. We must learn the local language and customs if we are to be effective in our influence. We must differentiate between those who want to be our friend rather than our enemy. It is to everyone's advantage we are accepted by those who come to hear our message.
My view of astrology is one of validation. The original physicists and astronomers were called astrologers, and they did a darn good job of downloading some cosmic realities it has taken Hubble to validate centuries later. They also did a great job of developing myth as a tool for understanding and linking third dimensional reality to other realities.
Many people in this dimension will always need "science". They will always need "God". And they will always need ritual, myth, and a little help coloring inside the lines. Right now, they need Santa!
I think the more we maintain our sense of humor about The Game and all its oddities and amazement, the longer we will live successfully with each other, no matter what dimension or game we choose.
I choose to believe every dimension needs to laugh at itself for perceived weaknesses, guilt, fear, or whatever incompleteness is chosen. Free will is a choice, not a default, so give Santa half a chance!
Participating in the third dimension involves the playing out of The Game (I love Florence Scovel Shinn's take on this) through mythology, legend, ritual, and storytelling. When we do this, we honor our ancestry by initiating the new ones (cultural respect).
I don't doubt realities like "Indigo children" and those born with a new wired brain. These incarnates are less inclined to participate in ritual and myth because they were born with different frequencies and resonance that allow them to remember instantaneously what The Game really is.
I do think however, if we are to own our responsibility to help others through this shift of awareness, we need, as a traditional saying recommends "when in Rome, do as the Romans do".
The I Ching infers this in the hexagram "The Wanderer". When we want to learn and influence, we cross borders. We explore with the intention to enlarge ourselves through empathy. We will be diminished however, if we are responded to as if we are an alien (even if we are!). In fact, there are those who believe “extraterrestrials” will not walk the planet with us until we stop with the alienating behavior toward aliens.
Many are wanderers now, disenfranchised from all kinds of indigenous cultures, family, lovers, careers, heritage, and shaken from the harshness of diaspora.
Few of us have a village of origin now that we remain in for long. Our survival requires us to be vigilant in our awareness of our current environment. We must learn the local language and customs if we are to be effective in our influence. We must differentiate between those who want to be our friend rather than our enemy. It is to everyone's advantage we are accepted by those who come to hear our message.
My view of astrology is one of validation. The original physicists and astronomers were called astrologers, and they did a darn good job of downloading some cosmic realities it has taken Hubble to validate centuries later. They also did a great job of developing myth as a tool for understanding and linking third dimensional reality to other realities.
Many people in this dimension will always need "science". They will always need "God". And they will always need ritual, myth, and a little help coloring inside the lines. Right now, they need Santa!
I think the more we maintain our sense of humor about The Game and all its oddities and amazement, the longer we will live successfully with each other, no matter what dimension or game we choose.
I choose to believe every dimension needs to laugh at itself for perceived weaknesses, guilt, fear, or whatever incompleteness is chosen. Free will is a choice, not a default, so give Santa half a chance!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Sexuality, Part Deux
I attended a couple conferences this past weekend dedicated to the latest technology and developments in all things humanly enhancing. Genetics, robotics, mechanical surrogates, artificial intelligence, computer systems that replicate the human brain, biomimicry, longevity, dystopic science fiction, empathetic game development, N-dimensions . . .
I made a list of words to websearch from this huge table of goodies after I left. One out of four failed spell-check. This is how rapidly our language is changing to suit our desires.
From these conferences, I realize we now have numerous choices for sexual expression. Either enhancement through immersive media (a.k.a. “digital sex”) enhancement through human partnered frequency acceleration (a.k.a. “great sex”), celibacy (a.k.a. a challenge to auto-eroticism), or asexuality and old age (a.k.a. “I don’t care - anymore”). Because the biological imperative to replicate overpowers all other third dimensional synaptic processes, we can’t make sex go away, so we continue to invent new forms of entertaining ourselves. We just can’t find a cure.
To most of us, the proliferation of human sexual expression cannot be enhanced in currently perceived reality without consciousness rituals or chemicals. Either our brain chemicals or chemicals we ingest or inject. If chemical, we still have control of our free will - how often, with what, and with whom we enhance our sexual response, if admitted to or not. Fortunately, we have the professional race car industry and the aging population to thank for bringing that one out of the closet. The first wave of human enhancement.
We can also choose to immerse ourselves in real-time human interaction to maximize our innate capacity to trigger synapses in our brains. This however, involves a lot of discipline, practice, and awareness. Many of us know the extent the Japanese, Hindu, and other cultures ritualize sex to an impressive degree. When I was at Baktapur in Nepal, the temple friezes were littered with carved depictions of every imaginable sexual interaction humans could have with each other to reach a state of bliss. The Nepalese have added to the business of reproduction inventive forms of transcendent states of consciousness, a highly valued commodity.
Innovative virtual technologies offer us more choice. Not much practice involved here. Just an admission ticket or the expense of enhancement toys, surgical procedures, genetic re-mapping, virtual immersion, or embedded chips. Many of these enhancements can affect our free will however. We may turn ourselves over to be manipulated or altered so our limited human development of our senses are stimulated and enhanced. Then we just go along for the ride. Or so it seems.
What was interesting at these conferences however, was the still-present hushness about “digital sex”. It was mentioned maybe twice, and fast. Just a quickie. No formal presentations on the program. Even more interesting, the word “consciousness” was practically banned. Two conferees referred to it as the “C” word after a few others smacked it down. They may as well have tried to pull off the same thing with the “S” word.
Once paired with another human, sexual experience is either overt or covert. Chinese society is more direct about sex than Americans are. Their political controls of how humans interact with each other or the digital electronic media world are potent. Although the number of children born to a family is restricted, and the recent expose about the subjection of humans to electro-shock therapy to cure video game addiction was a shock, the Chinese culture covertly allows sexual behavior with another human as an enhancement to monogamy. It is not “penalized”.
I have always found the term “penalize” in our society oxymoronic. It implies our relationship with the aggressive part of passive-aggressive sex is a negative expression of human behavior and needs to be punished in some way.
The United States is one of the few nations with an expectation of monogamy. Humans however, can demand more input from their monogamous partner than is deliverable within the limits of human expression. This dilemma is rarely expressed openly in our society. It is tethered to endless forms of psychoanalytic, therapeutic, and religious devotion to maintain an enhancement-free experience. Tabloid news feeds on infractions of monogamy, and humans are the victims of the poison called Shame. Lack of discipline. Lack of acceptable performance. Lack of gender commitment. Lack of anything.
In my opinion, enhancement through immersive media is becoming the compromise we could make to maintain monogamous agreements with other humans and salvage our self-imposed shame. Sex is so contentious, so loaded, so complicated, and so messy to most humans, many of us are more than ready to opt out of the human experience for the virtual one. How are we to penalize humans for participating in or enhancing themselves for a virtual sexual experience?
“It’s not what you think Dear. I just spent Friday night at the FullDome Immersion Multiplex. Look at our kids. They live in that computer with their games night and day. No big deal.”
The Ultimate Safe Sex. No touchy-feely.
So, is this where we are? It’s easy to make sex a dirty word, but now we must add consciousness too? What’s next on the hush list in our brave new world?
We do like the term “chemistry” to describe that rare event with another human where some kind of bliss is experienced in sex. It's one acceptable option to a "natural" experience. But, chemistry can also make us complete idiots. Zombies. Even killers of other humans. We forget to pay the bills, and if sex isn’t consummated with our significant other, we stupidly leave crumbs all over the place so we will be, yep, you guessed it, penalized. Our life will never be the same when we are found out.
“Hi, my name is Shame, and this is my first meeting. I am a blissaholic.”
What I’m curious about regarding all this emerging technology in human enhancement of experience and body image is the pay-off. And, the potential sacrifice in our complex human arena with each other.
Your call.
I made a list of words to websearch from this huge table of goodies after I left. One out of four failed spell-check. This is how rapidly our language is changing to suit our desires.
From these conferences, I realize we now have numerous choices for sexual expression. Either enhancement through immersive media (a.k.a. “digital sex”) enhancement through human partnered frequency acceleration (a.k.a. “great sex”), celibacy (a.k.a. a challenge to auto-eroticism), or asexuality and old age (a.k.a. “I don’t care - anymore”). Because the biological imperative to replicate overpowers all other third dimensional synaptic processes, we can’t make sex go away, so we continue to invent new forms of entertaining ourselves. We just can’t find a cure.
To most of us, the proliferation of human sexual expression cannot be enhanced in currently perceived reality without consciousness rituals or chemicals. Either our brain chemicals or chemicals we ingest or inject. If chemical, we still have control of our free will - how often, with what, and with whom we enhance our sexual response, if admitted to or not. Fortunately, we have the professional race car industry and the aging population to thank for bringing that one out of the closet. The first wave of human enhancement.
We can also choose to immerse ourselves in real-time human interaction to maximize our innate capacity to trigger synapses in our brains. This however, involves a lot of discipline, practice, and awareness. Many of us know the extent the Japanese, Hindu, and other cultures ritualize sex to an impressive degree. When I was at Baktapur in Nepal, the temple friezes were littered with carved depictions of every imaginable sexual interaction humans could have with each other to reach a state of bliss. The Nepalese have added to the business of reproduction inventive forms of transcendent states of consciousness, a highly valued commodity.
Innovative virtual technologies offer us more choice. Not much practice involved here. Just an admission ticket or the expense of enhancement toys, surgical procedures, genetic re-mapping, virtual immersion, or embedded chips. Many of these enhancements can affect our free will however. We may turn ourselves over to be manipulated or altered so our limited human development of our senses are stimulated and enhanced. Then we just go along for the ride. Or so it seems.
What was interesting at these conferences however, was the still-present hushness about “digital sex”. It was mentioned maybe twice, and fast. Just a quickie. No formal presentations on the program. Even more interesting, the word “consciousness” was practically banned. Two conferees referred to it as the “C” word after a few others smacked it down. They may as well have tried to pull off the same thing with the “S” word.
Once paired with another human, sexual experience is either overt or covert. Chinese society is more direct about sex than Americans are. Their political controls of how humans interact with each other or the digital electronic media world are potent. Although the number of children born to a family is restricted, and the recent expose about the subjection of humans to electro-shock therapy to cure video game addiction was a shock, the Chinese culture covertly allows sexual behavior with another human as an enhancement to monogamy. It is not “penalized”.
I have always found the term “penalize” in our society oxymoronic. It implies our relationship with the aggressive part of passive-aggressive sex is a negative expression of human behavior and needs to be punished in some way.
The United States is one of the few nations with an expectation of monogamy. Humans however, can demand more input from their monogamous partner than is deliverable within the limits of human expression. This dilemma is rarely expressed openly in our society. It is tethered to endless forms of psychoanalytic, therapeutic, and religious devotion to maintain an enhancement-free experience. Tabloid news feeds on infractions of monogamy, and humans are the victims of the poison called Shame. Lack of discipline. Lack of acceptable performance. Lack of gender commitment. Lack of anything.
In my opinion, enhancement through immersive media is becoming the compromise we could make to maintain monogamous agreements with other humans and salvage our self-imposed shame. Sex is so contentious, so loaded, so complicated, and so messy to most humans, many of us are more than ready to opt out of the human experience for the virtual one. How are we to penalize humans for participating in or enhancing themselves for a virtual sexual experience?
“It’s not what you think Dear. I just spent Friday night at the FullDome Immersion Multiplex. Look at our kids. They live in that computer with their games night and day. No big deal.”
The Ultimate Safe Sex. No touchy-feely.
So, is this where we are? It’s easy to make sex a dirty word, but now we must add consciousness too? What’s next on the hush list in our brave new world?
We do like the term “chemistry” to describe that rare event with another human where some kind of bliss is experienced in sex. It's one acceptable option to a "natural" experience. But, chemistry can also make us complete idiots. Zombies. Even killers of other humans. We forget to pay the bills, and if sex isn’t consummated with our significant other, we stupidly leave crumbs all over the place so we will be, yep, you guessed it, penalized. Our life will never be the same when we are found out.
“Hi, my name is Shame, and this is my first meeting. I am a blissaholic.”
What I’m curious about regarding all this emerging technology in human enhancement of experience and body image is the pay-off. And, the potential sacrifice in our complex human arena with each other.
Your call.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
It's Not My Dog
I’m descending on the bike from the top of Mt. Tamalpais north of San Francisco, and the November wind chill is to-the-bone. I break out my emergency stash of produce section plastic bags and roll them up each arm under my windbreaker for a vapor barrier. I have on my neoprene gloves and arm warmers and foot warmers and head hood with just my nose and eyes exposed. I have everything on, and still wondering why I’m the only one out here doing this in a frigid wind.
At the Depot book store in Mill Valley, I’m done with the descent and its warm and sunny with no wind. Customers are parked outside at tables in parkas with their lattes, soaking it up. Inside, I window-shop the desserts.
“Just give me that large slice of cherry pie on a napkin, no plate please”.
“To-go box?”
“Nope. It will be eaten as of, right now”.
I’m back outside. The brick pavers are warm. My pie is warm. I sit on the pavers. A dog that may be some kind of Border Shepard/Collie mix circles me. Not on a leash. Great. I’ve got irritating company. He stops with two feet between us and stares at me, then my pie. I’m ready to jump.
“Don’t even think about it”.
He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there looking at me like I am already boring him.
Fine. I keep eating. And he just watches me, then my pie. Me, the pie. Me, the pie . . . whatever. The minute I cave and give him a crumb, an owner will pounce and tell me not to feed human food to their dog off a leash.
I split off a piece of crust and hold it out in my hand. I don’t care. This is the most civilized dog I have ever met, and sure enough, he clamps down on it with the expertise of a famous brain surgeon. Nice try, but he won’t do that again now that he knows there’s butter in the crust.
Who trained this dog to have such amazing table manners? He doesn’t have any signs of dominance by an Alpha Human. I look around. No one is watching us.
“Sit.”
“Sit.”
“Lay down.”
“Sit.”
No action. Maybe he speaks French. I give him another crumb, then another. He’s so good at common courtesy, why stress him out?
Now I’m up to the second group of people passing by and checking out this delicate ritual.
“Is that your dog?”
“No.”
“You dog is so well behaved!”
“It’s not my dog.”
“Whose dog is it?”
“I don’t know.”
By the time a third guy asks me about my very civilized dog, I have been doing some thinking. What if I could behave like this in a meeting? Or waiting my turn to impress the speaker just down from the podium? Or at the checkout when they open another checkout line?
“So far he’s got all my crust. I was just thinking, why can’t I be like this? Just stand there. They all know what I want, but I’m not rushing them. I’ll out-wait them. What would I have to lose? So far this dog is scoring Big-Time.”
He laughs. “Yeah, interesting point.”
The pie is gone. I show my admiration for his character. I let him lick the napkin clean. He parts the crumbs from the paper napkin like the aforementioned brain surgeon. I fold up the napkin, he backs up, and walks off. Game over. Just like that.
I’m a little stunned. He circles the plaza two more times in hang-out mode. I get back on my bike and roll out. There he is again at the end of the plaza, no owner in sight. Stopping to water a light pole, he then trots up the street.
He’s got tags. He’s got an owner. He looks taken care of. But he’s going slow. He’s an old dog.
But, this is no ordinary dog threatened by a dog catcher just screaming to jail anything off a leash in a county very tough on vagrants. He’s a long time local with no incidences. And knows how to score. It’s obvious. They leave him alone. Who wouldn’t?
This was a great day for a ride.
Why can’t people be like that, which includes me? Next time I’m in line for something or can’t get what I want . . .
At the Depot book store in Mill Valley, I’m done with the descent and its warm and sunny with no wind. Customers are parked outside at tables in parkas with their lattes, soaking it up. Inside, I window-shop the desserts.
“Just give me that large slice of cherry pie on a napkin, no plate please”.
“To-go box?”
“Nope. It will be eaten as of, right now”.
I’m back outside. The brick pavers are warm. My pie is warm. I sit on the pavers. A dog that may be some kind of Border Shepard/Collie mix circles me. Not on a leash. Great. I’ve got irritating company. He stops with two feet between us and stares at me, then my pie. I’m ready to jump.
“Don’t even think about it”.
He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there looking at me like I am already boring him.
Fine. I keep eating. And he just watches me, then my pie. Me, the pie. Me, the pie . . . whatever. The minute I cave and give him a crumb, an owner will pounce and tell me not to feed human food to their dog off a leash.
I split off a piece of crust and hold it out in my hand. I don’t care. This is the most civilized dog I have ever met, and sure enough, he clamps down on it with the expertise of a famous brain surgeon. Nice try, but he won’t do that again now that he knows there’s butter in the crust.
Who trained this dog to have such amazing table manners? He doesn’t have any signs of dominance by an Alpha Human. I look around. No one is watching us.
“Sit.”
“Sit.”
“Lay down.”
“Sit.”
No action. Maybe he speaks French. I give him another crumb, then another. He’s so good at common courtesy, why stress him out?
Now I’m up to the second group of people passing by and checking out this delicate ritual.
“Is that your dog?”
“No.”
“You dog is so well behaved!”
“It’s not my dog.”
“Whose dog is it?”
“I don’t know.”
By the time a third guy asks me about my very civilized dog, I have been doing some thinking. What if I could behave like this in a meeting? Or waiting my turn to impress the speaker just down from the podium? Or at the checkout when they open another checkout line?
“So far he’s got all my crust. I was just thinking, why can’t I be like this? Just stand there. They all know what I want, but I’m not rushing them. I’ll out-wait them. What would I have to lose? So far this dog is scoring Big-Time.”
He laughs. “Yeah, interesting point.”
The pie is gone. I show my admiration for his character. I let him lick the napkin clean. He parts the crumbs from the paper napkin like the aforementioned brain surgeon. I fold up the napkin, he backs up, and walks off. Game over. Just like that.
I’m a little stunned. He circles the plaza two more times in hang-out mode. I get back on my bike and roll out. There he is again at the end of the plaza, no owner in sight. Stopping to water a light pole, he then trots up the street.
He’s got tags. He’s got an owner. He looks taken care of. But he’s going slow. He’s an old dog.
But, this is no ordinary dog threatened by a dog catcher just screaming to jail anything off a leash in a county very tough on vagrants. He’s a long time local with no incidences. And knows how to score. It’s obvious. They leave him alone. Who wouldn’t?
This was a great day for a ride.
Why can’t people be like that, which includes me? Next time I’m in line for something or can’t get what I want . . .
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Take Your Brain to the Gym
The Best Workout Ever Invented
On a national website where I am featured, I posted a version of this blog post last month. Apparently, the inquiries about what I wrote surprised the website creator and myself. I didn’t realize so many were interested in the organ we understand the least – our brain.
Recently, I've noticed most everyone I am aware of is confused with their view of reality right now, admitted to or not. Our return to the Age of the The Healthy Body is coming along nicely, but our ability to communicate with others seems to be in crisis. Almost every conversation I hear starts with a "sniffing" routine to establish familiar reference points like dogs on a walk . Handshakes are out, sniffs are in:
"How OLD are you?"
"Four and a half"
"Thirteen next month"
"Twenty-something"
"A certain age"
The following fifteen second Bashing Session of all those less old and more old than we are define the safe haven for the rest of the conversation. Why are we not moving past this strangeness? We have an all-out effort to move past racial, marital, gender, environmental, religious, and political bias. We're not doing well with some of these, but no one seems to be at all interested in moving past the massive walls we have built between us and others who had the unfortunate luck to be born at another time than we did.
So, what’s going on, and why? Why don't we exercise our brains so we can have healthy conversations with each other?
Many have asked me why I talk about the “new brain”. Most don’t understand why there may even be a “new brain”, and if so, is it an organ donation, new computer, or video game? Did something show up since Darwin when we weren’t looking?
Why did I think this might be of interest, only to find out the interest appears to be huge?
There are as many psychological, analytical, mythological, esoteric, mystical, religious, and spiritual interests out there as there are stars, galaxies, and asteroids in our cosmos. We've had plenty of time throughout civilizations to come up with amazing concepts about all of this.
But, here we are in a new century with new cravings for understanding the physical human machine. DNA mapping and new information about how our brain (the driver of our machine) operates has become almost more fascinating than what we eat and where we live.
I am one of those people that can’t get enough feedback about our brain. So, if I want to comment on something as gigantic as a three pound brain, maybe I should be prepared to defend myself.
There is plenty of revolutionary new science that supports the concept we came into existence wired for what reality we experience. The “tabular rasa”, or blank page of a brain from birth doesn’t get much of an audience anymore. Even atheists and theologians are thin on explanations based on conjecture, but not much science. Astrophysicists, Biocosmologists, and even NASA scientists are acknowledging our solar system is being blasted with accelerated energy from the Cosmos, which is affecting our brains as well.
In our new electronic age, our brain might also be described as an “operating system” with software we might choose to use. Version 1.1 may seem to work for some, but it doesn’t seem to be operating that well right now for others. Software updates are available, but those of us who haven’t downloaded them regularly are getting some interesting surprises in life.
Where and from what/whom would these updates be coming from? Who really knows, and why analyze it when we could just download some of those updates? Scientific instrumentation has proven we use all of our brain, not just a portion as previously assumed. Every part of our brain will light up when stimulated.
Consider the possibilities of this. If we stimulate parts of our brain by introducing new stimuli, what could we experience we haven’t yet? If this is possible, what is real or true to us now that might not be later after we stimulate the parts that are craving a little workout?
It Already Exists
Plenty of recognized authorities since the beginning of our existence believe information on everything already exists. Maybe everything is in our brain already. We are just “remembering” what we already “know”, and many of us are realizing these “updates” are critical to our survival because they trigger our remembering and “aha” moments. All we need to do is be receptive to the signal to get the message. No different than using a cell phone to get a signal from a tower. Its like missing out on the lottery because you have caller ID block. You don’t want to be bothered because you don’t approve of the messenger before you hear the message.
Many have stated the gift of these times is total recall no matter what level of awareness we came in with. But now its fast-track time, and the Universe is accelerating. We may be getting overwhelmed by new information, and recent updates might be the tune-up our brain’s hard drive needs right now.
We got comfortable knowing about the usual stuff – how much money in our bank account, names of our friends, status of our relationships, that trustworthy first-issue Mac, when to take out the garbage . . . But way down the list seems to be what we know about our brain. Part of knowing ourselves is also knowing our brain, how it evolved, and what it might be now and in the future.
So, what is a “new brain” and what is an “old brain”? The "animal" back brain (old) is our limbic system and reptilian complex (stimulated by a good portion of the video game craze). It maintained the survival of all kinds of species that apparently resulted in human species that walk upright and have a very large forehead to accommodate a very large frontal lobe.
The frontal lobe (new) blew onto the evolutionary stage in what may have been the "missing link" described by evolutionist Charles Darwin.
Bam. A newly minted “brilliant human species”, very much over-domesticated and not all that good at survival.
When our “animal” back brain was overwhelmed by this whopping frontal lobe, it became the Gatekeeper, controlling messages from the back with our personal jury verdicts and anyone else we decided had more smarts than we did, which dumbed down our ability to survive.
Carl Sagan wrote about this in his book "The Dragons of Eden", and so did R. D. Laing in "The Politics of Experience". The film “King of Hearts” was a fascinating production about incarcerated humans with misunderstood brains who were freed after an earthquake shattered their prison. They had the opportunity to act on messages from the back part of their brain and transform an entire town and everyone in it with the front part. Because they were also gifted with the ability to actualize messages from the right and left hemispheres of their frontal lobe simultaneously, the world they created without a jury is still a utopian fantasy. Our best shot at this only lasts for a week out of each year in a hostile desert environment with no water far away from juries. The Burning Man Festival continues to thrive in the thousands who carry it all out there, build a utopian city, and leave without a trace in the dust.
The frontal lobe has a right and left hemisphere, each with different “operating systems”. The left runs on logic and linear thinking software (do the math, balance your checkbook). The right runs on the perceptual and sensate present (Goodie! Sex! Cool art!), which is about as close to the back brain as we can get with our jury in place. Add the back brain to the frontal lobe with two hemispheres, and we have an operating system we are still discovering.
Dan Pink’s bestseller "A Whole New Mind" gives us hope however. Unlike the linear processing of the left side, the right side is just what we need now to multi-dimensionally manage our new reality in our new century. Jill Bolte Taylor, a neuroscientist, whose brain stroke took her on a journey of her own right and left brain operating systems, describes it as a “stroke of insight”.
If you want a brain journey you won’t forget, check out their videos on TED talks.
Many do not consider the brain some new evolutionary development, but a repository of information that has always been there since the Earth cooled off (or we were place here by others). Those lucid dreams some may be having could just be rememberings of past lives, or according to some like scientist Craig Venter, embedded in our DNA.
Many researchers think this accelerated cosmic energy is rewiring our brains, somewhat like a patching of frayed wires that carry bites through a ‘fat pipe” information highway, lost in translation when, like a clogged artery, the flow slows waaaay down.
The more we focus on remembering, the more we patch our wiring and open the main artery to our awareness of what we already know, as well as parts of the brain we aren’t giving attention to.
It doesn’t take science to notice young children seem to be getting smarter every minute one of them is born, but science is what it is taking to prove it. Evolution on steroids, one could call it.
This is one reason why the Head Start Program was invented decades ago before children started “elementary” schooling or what was called “kindergarten”. IQ testing was thrown out. Aptitude testing was thrown in. Out. In. Out. In. We remain so confused about what our brain is we have lost most of our kids to video games, where they can use both sides of their front brain freely without our constant interruption on which side to use. And they are way ahead of us, unless we have been paying attention to our updates and downloading them so we can keep up with them and understand what they are trying to tell us.
The New Century
The technology revolution has created an out-of-control appetite for any electronic message. Our schedule is full of social networking like Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, Second Life, etc. And just as fast as they are invented, they go out of favor like restaurants.
Backlash. Now the “people movement” has a mysterious urge for human vs. virtual company. We now want more enduring, results oriented, and meaningful experiences in life and with each other. And evolved human souls know this is where the route can take a sharp turn in favor of real-time social communities and networks in our favorite third dimension of the five senses and material stuff. Top-tier management in business with, as Dan Pink describes it “carrot and stick reward” has been proven to reduce productivity, not improve it. What delivers better results is self motivated, individual contribution to a mutually agreed upon goal. When this enhances the group experience, the creative and innovative pace surges.
The Multiple Dimensional Now
Do we have a choice or free will in what or how many awarenesses we choose to experience? I think we do, and science is improving on my opinion every 24 hours. Hang out in the third dimension or spend more time in the fourth, etc. where alternate realities can replace or keep company with the third. Or hang out in more than one. Similar to the movie “Back to the Future”.
Got a headache yet? Analyze this - which is more complicated and time consuming for you? Your latest computer virus attack or your latest relationship? Your choice, since I do believe we have free will and free access to multiple dimensions (again, do your science homework). You think this sounds like a video game? You’re close. Want to stitch together this and the last century seamlessly? Download updates and take you brain to the gym.
This split between a human brain reality and a virtual reality will become more polarized in the next few years, and by 2050 a new definition of "life" here on our little planet will be clearly and for some, harshly defined. The “Transhumanists” are already eager to transcend the density and appearance of their body, disease, brain limitations, dysfunctional relationships, and death, but they seem unclear what to do with the inconvenience of a human soul, it’s "imperfections", and Dang! Those feelings we stuff constantly.
I think this dissonance among our five senses and how our brain synchronizes them is causing major chaos right now.
Sure, chaos has been here since The Big Bang, but us humans seem to be raising the bar on winning and losing battles started out of chaos here on Earth.
Ethics in the Future
I don’t think this is about religion, politics, law, stem cell research, birth rights, gender rights, artificial intelligence rights (yeah, that exists too) - and so on. It’s about the struggle to comprehend the changes to our brain wiring that is occurring, and how to play nice with others that have different wiring.
Right now, computer language code writers who don’t want consensus are battling with each other. Corporate wealth and market share is at stake. And within a year, android communication devices that use a universal code language that is on a free platform (think countries without borders, language, and currency differences) will grab that wealth.
The rest of Life As We Know It may follow in the same footprint.
I think this is how hungry we all are for ending chaos. We are worn out by insisting on our way of viewing and interpreting our world, choosing our friends, and running our countries.
As a favorite lecturer of mine commented “You think you’re unhappy because your kids are dating a naturally conceived human that is a different color, religion, gender preference, etc.? Wait until they tell you they plan to marry a virtual or robotic Cyborg they created.”
When she stated that, many in the audience audibly demonstrated their shock by gasping at even a tiny possibility of this. They thought the presenter had lost her brain.
We will all need athletic, flexible, adaptable, attentive, and maybe even soul-based brains. Soon.
On a national website where I am featured, I posted a version of this blog post last month. Apparently, the inquiries about what I wrote surprised the website creator and myself. I didn’t realize so many were interested in the organ we understand the least – our brain.
Recently, I've noticed most everyone I am aware of is confused with their view of reality right now, admitted to or not. Our return to the Age of the The Healthy Body is coming along nicely, but our ability to communicate with others seems to be in crisis. Almost every conversation I hear starts with a "sniffing" routine to establish familiar reference points like dogs on a walk . Handshakes are out, sniffs are in:
"How OLD are you?"
"Four and a half"
"Thirteen next month"
"Twenty-something"
"A certain age"
The following fifteen second Bashing Session of all those less old and more old than we are define the safe haven for the rest of the conversation. Why are we not moving past this strangeness? We have an all-out effort to move past racial, marital, gender, environmental, religious, and political bias. We're not doing well with some of these, but no one seems to be at all interested in moving past the massive walls we have built between us and others who had the unfortunate luck to be born at another time than we did.
So, what’s going on, and why? Why don't we exercise our brains so we can have healthy conversations with each other?
Many have asked me why I talk about the “new brain”. Most don’t understand why there may even be a “new brain”, and if so, is it an organ donation, new computer, or video game? Did something show up since Darwin when we weren’t looking?
Why did I think this might be of interest, only to find out the interest appears to be huge?
There are as many psychological, analytical, mythological, esoteric, mystical, religious, and spiritual interests out there as there are stars, galaxies, and asteroids in our cosmos. We've had plenty of time throughout civilizations to come up with amazing concepts about all of this.
But, here we are in a new century with new cravings for understanding the physical human machine. DNA mapping and new information about how our brain (the driver of our machine) operates has become almost more fascinating than what we eat and where we live.
I am one of those people that can’t get enough feedback about our brain. So, if I want to comment on something as gigantic as a three pound brain, maybe I should be prepared to defend myself.
There is plenty of revolutionary new science that supports the concept we came into existence wired for what reality we experience. The “tabular rasa”, or blank page of a brain from birth doesn’t get much of an audience anymore. Even atheists and theologians are thin on explanations based on conjecture, but not much science. Astrophysicists, Biocosmologists, and even NASA scientists are acknowledging our solar system is being blasted with accelerated energy from the Cosmos, which is affecting our brains as well.
In our new electronic age, our brain might also be described as an “operating system” with software we might choose to use. Version 1.1 may seem to work for some, but it doesn’t seem to be operating that well right now for others. Software updates are available, but those of us who haven’t downloaded them regularly are getting some interesting surprises in life.
Where and from what/whom would these updates be coming from? Who really knows, and why analyze it when we could just download some of those updates? Scientific instrumentation has proven we use all of our brain, not just a portion as previously assumed. Every part of our brain will light up when stimulated.
Consider the possibilities of this. If we stimulate parts of our brain by introducing new stimuli, what could we experience we haven’t yet? If this is possible, what is real or true to us now that might not be later after we stimulate the parts that are craving a little workout?
It Already Exists
Plenty of recognized authorities since the beginning of our existence believe information on everything already exists. Maybe everything is in our brain already. We are just “remembering” what we already “know”, and many of us are realizing these “updates” are critical to our survival because they trigger our remembering and “aha” moments. All we need to do is be receptive to the signal to get the message. No different than using a cell phone to get a signal from a tower. Its like missing out on the lottery because you have caller ID block. You don’t want to be bothered because you don’t approve of the messenger before you hear the message.
Many have stated the gift of these times is total recall no matter what level of awareness we came in with. But now its fast-track time, and the Universe is accelerating. We may be getting overwhelmed by new information, and recent updates might be the tune-up our brain’s hard drive needs right now.
We got comfortable knowing about the usual stuff – how much money in our bank account, names of our friends, status of our relationships, that trustworthy first-issue Mac, when to take out the garbage . . . But way down the list seems to be what we know about our brain. Part of knowing ourselves is also knowing our brain, how it evolved, and what it might be now and in the future.
So, what is a “new brain” and what is an “old brain”? The "animal" back brain (old) is our limbic system and reptilian complex (stimulated by a good portion of the video game craze). It maintained the survival of all kinds of species that apparently resulted in human species that walk upright and have a very large forehead to accommodate a very large frontal lobe.
The frontal lobe (new) blew onto the evolutionary stage in what may have been the "missing link" described by evolutionist Charles Darwin.
Bam. A newly minted “brilliant human species”, very much over-domesticated and not all that good at survival.
When our “animal” back brain was overwhelmed by this whopping frontal lobe, it became the Gatekeeper, controlling messages from the back with our personal jury verdicts and anyone else we decided had more smarts than we did, which dumbed down our ability to survive.
Carl Sagan wrote about this in his book "The Dragons of Eden", and so did R. D. Laing in "The Politics of Experience". The film “King of Hearts” was a fascinating production about incarcerated humans with misunderstood brains who were freed after an earthquake shattered their prison. They had the opportunity to act on messages from the back part of their brain and transform an entire town and everyone in it with the front part. Because they were also gifted with the ability to actualize messages from the right and left hemispheres of their frontal lobe simultaneously, the world they created without a jury is still a utopian fantasy. Our best shot at this only lasts for a week out of each year in a hostile desert environment with no water far away from juries. The Burning Man Festival continues to thrive in the thousands who carry it all out there, build a utopian city, and leave without a trace in the dust.
The frontal lobe has a right and left hemisphere, each with different “operating systems”. The left runs on logic and linear thinking software (do the math, balance your checkbook). The right runs on the perceptual and sensate present (Goodie! Sex! Cool art!), which is about as close to the back brain as we can get with our jury in place. Add the back brain to the frontal lobe with two hemispheres, and we have an operating system we are still discovering.
Dan Pink’s bestseller "A Whole New Mind" gives us hope however. Unlike the linear processing of the left side, the right side is just what we need now to multi-dimensionally manage our new reality in our new century. Jill Bolte Taylor, a neuroscientist, whose brain stroke took her on a journey of her own right and left brain operating systems, describes it as a “stroke of insight”.
If you want a brain journey you won’t forget, check out their videos on TED talks.
Many do not consider the brain some new evolutionary development, but a repository of information that has always been there since the Earth cooled off (or we were place here by others). Those lucid dreams some may be having could just be rememberings of past lives, or according to some like scientist Craig Venter, embedded in our DNA.
Many researchers think this accelerated cosmic energy is rewiring our brains, somewhat like a patching of frayed wires that carry bites through a ‘fat pipe” information highway, lost in translation when, like a clogged artery, the flow slows waaaay down.
The more we focus on remembering, the more we patch our wiring and open the main artery to our awareness of what we already know, as well as parts of the brain we aren’t giving attention to.
It doesn’t take science to notice young children seem to be getting smarter every minute one of them is born, but science is what it is taking to prove it. Evolution on steroids, one could call it.
This is one reason why the Head Start Program was invented decades ago before children started “elementary” schooling or what was called “kindergarten”. IQ testing was thrown out. Aptitude testing was thrown in. Out. In. Out. In. We remain so confused about what our brain is we have lost most of our kids to video games, where they can use both sides of their front brain freely without our constant interruption on which side to use. And they are way ahead of us, unless we have been paying attention to our updates and downloading them so we can keep up with them and understand what they are trying to tell us.
The New Century
The technology revolution has created an out-of-control appetite for any electronic message. Our schedule is full of social networking like Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, Second Life, etc. And just as fast as they are invented, they go out of favor like restaurants.
Backlash. Now the “people movement” has a mysterious urge for human vs. virtual company. We now want more enduring, results oriented, and meaningful experiences in life and with each other. And evolved human souls know this is where the route can take a sharp turn in favor of real-time social communities and networks in our favorite third dimension of the five senses and material stuff. Top-tier management in business with, as Dan Pink describes it “carrot and stick reward” has been proven to reduce productivity, not improve it. What delivers better results is self motivated, individual contribution to a mutually agreed upon goal. When this enhances the group experience, the creative and innovative pace surges.
The Multiple Dimensional Now
Do we have a choice or free will in what or how many awarenesses we choose to experience? I think we do, and science is improving on my opinion every 24 hours. Hang out in the third dimension or spend more time in the fourth, etc. where alternate realities can replace or keep company with the third. Or hang out in more than one. Similar to the movie “Back to the Future”.
Got a headache yet? Analyze this - which is more complicated and time consuming for you? Your latest computer virus attack or your latest relationship? Your choice, since I do believe we have free will and free access to multiple dimensions (again, do your science homework). You think this sounds like a video game? You’re close. Want to stitch together this and the last century seamlessly? Download updates and take you brain to the gym.
This split between a human brain reality and a virtual reality will become more polarized in the next few years, and by 2050 a new definition of "life" here on our little planet will be clearly and for some, harshly defined. The “Transhumanists” are already eager to transcend the density and appearance of their body, disease, brain limitations, dysfunctional relationships, and death, but they seem unclear what to do with the inconvenience of a human soul, it’s "imperfections", and Dang! Those feelings we stuff constantly.
I think this dissonance among our five senses and how our brain synchronizes them is causing major chaos right now.
Sure, chaos has been here since The Big Bang, but us humans seem to be raising the bar on winning and losing battles started out of chaos here on Earth.
Ethics in the Future
I don’t think this is about religion, politics, law, stem cell research, birth rights, gender rights, artificial intelligence rights (yeah, that exists too) - and so on. It’s about the struggle to comprehend the changes to our brain wiring that is occurring, and how to play nice with others that have different wiring.
Right now, computer language code writers who don’t want consensus are battling with each other. Corporate wealth and market share is at stake. And within a year, android communication devices that use a universal code language that is on a free platform (think countries without borders, language, and currency differences) will grab that wealth.
The rest of Life As We Know It may follow in the same footprint.
I think this is how hungry we all are for ending chaos. We are worn out by insisting on our way of viewing and interpreting our world, choosing our friends, and running our countries.
As a favorite lecturer of mine commented “You think you’re unhappy because your kids are dating a naturally conceived human that is a different color, religion, gender preference, etc.? Wait until they tell you they plan to marry a virtual or robotic Cyborg they created.”
When she stated that, many in the audience audibly demonstrated their shock by gasping at even a tiny possibility of this. They thought the presenter had lost her brain.
We will all need athletic, flexible, adaptable, attentive, and maybe even soul-based brains. Soon.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Johan gets back in the zone
This is my personal story about managing my weight. It sounds all so simple now that I was in doubt if I should write it down, and then I decided to do it because it might help you if you are in similar circumstances.
I am a man, 49 years old and six feet tall. I live in Belgium. I became overweight starting from my late thirties on and since then weighed for a lot of the time more than 210 pounds. For more than 10 years I was overweight and aware of it. Now what I wish to share with you is that over the past 2 months I have lost 30 pounds, something that never happened before in those 10 years. I think I am on a program that will work for me to getting back at a normal weight altogether.
I am happy and I am enthusiastic to share my story with you!
I found my personal zone in life after growing up and starting to live on my own, by learning and doing things and changing my world. I was walking, biking and skiing. I was successful in my job, married and built a house.
Then my wife and I had a family and I became even more successful in my job. Because of these happy circumstances I started to move less and eat more. I had no time anymore to go on long hikes, I spent a lot of time on the road and in the air, sitting down, and when I was at home we would often prepare festive meals and invite our friends – and sit down after the meal. I did not think anything wrong with my lifestyle even though I gained weight as a consequence. My friends and associates were also gaining weight – and still we were not what you would call fat. We noticed that many of our seniors were fat, but we didn’t think we were (yet).
I can thank my personal awareness because I can now see that from then on I gradually left my zone. The process set in about ten years ago. I did not notice it. I had only a vague awareness that my horizon and potential in life became more and more limited. I kept gaining more weight and became fat to the point that I could not deny it anymore. People would say to me that I was fat and that I should do something about it. I received the message, but did not take action. People were talking to me, my body was talking to me, I heard it, and did not listen.
Why not? I was finding excuses. I was very busy and had absolutely no time to take breaks. I experienced setbacks in my career and personal challenges in changing from a young urban professional to a parent raising children. A potential health problem was way down on my list. About my looks I could not have cared less – I just bought bigger clothes.
So I did not change my lifestyle and I did not realize that I had a problem – my answer was to make things worse by working harder. I became even more successful in my job and with my family – the most success I ever had. And yes, I was starting to feel tired and feel the strain – but I thought that is what happens if you work hard. I saw the same happen to other people and found myself only repeating the experience of my parents´ generation. I started to look like my father at the same age. I found confirmation everywhere. I was no different and thought “such is life”.
Well, I was wrong. I finally got my wake-up call a little bit more than one year ago when I found myself falling asleep in the armchair on a regular basis (often in front of the television). I did go to see my doctor and I started to listen seriously to my wife. They both told me that something was very wrong. They did not tell me what to do. They made me look at myself and made it plain that I was not in a good condition, way out of my zone – that I was not healthy and that I had been on a slow downward trend for all these years. The doctor told me that if I continued on my path – it would end badly. This confirmed thoughts and feelings that I had myself.
Sure, I had achieved things by working hard. I was not tired from working hard. I was tired from being unhealthy. I can now see that I used my reserves and was not replenishing them. In reality I was not learning many new things, I was not recharging my batteries, and I was no longer changing my world. I was saying “No, I cannot” more often than “Yes, I can”.
This was not so clear to me one year ago as it is now. I reluctantly admitted that my wife and the doctor could have a point. This was a small and very important first step. I started with an action plan to lose weight, stuck with it – lost weight, became more able and active, and found out that it is not difficult at all to do the necessary things and make time for them. Once I started doing the right things, it did not take a long time to reverse the trend. Life is fun again. I feel happy now and back in my zone. Ready to change my world.
Did I suddenly change my life? No, that is the best part. I am still very busy and have no time for great hikes or go to the gym two times a week, but I plan to add this to my fun time as soon as possible. Once I became aware of what I needed to do I found it very easy to accommodate the necessary things in my lifestyle as it had become.
There is another thing that is good. I am a person that tries to explain the world and life and likes to control it. A substantial part of my newfound happiness is that with problem and solution out in the open – I feel confident that I know what I am doing and where I am going. I saw the abyss, I know now where it is – and how to keep safely away from it.
I am a man, 49 years old and six feet tall. I live in Belgium. I became overweight starting from my late thirties on and since then weighed for a lot of the time more than 210 pounds. For more than 10 years I was overweight and aware of it. Now what I wish to share with you is that over the past 2 months I have lost 30 pounds, something that never happened before in those 10 years. I think I am on a program that will work for me to getting back at a normal weight altogether.
I am happy and I am enthusiastic to share my story with you!
I found my personal zone in life after growing up and starting to live on my own, by learning and doing things and changing my world. I was walking, biking and skiing. I was successful in my job, married and built a house.
Then my wife and I had a family and I became even more successful in my job. Because of these happy circumstances I started to move less and eat more. I had no time anymore to go on long hikes, I spent a lot of time on the road and in the air, sitting down, and when I was at home we would often prepare festive meals and invite our friends – and sit down after the meal. I did not think anything wrong with my lifestyle even though I gained weight as a consequence. My friends and associates were also gaining weight – and still we were not what you would call fat. We noticed that many of our seniors were fat, but we didn’t think we were (yet).
I can thank my personal awareness because I can now see that from then on I gradually left my zone. The process set in about ten years ago. I did not notice it. I had only a vague awareness that my horizon and potential in life became more and more limited. I kept gaining more weight and became fat to the point that I could not deny it anymore. People would say to me that I was fat and that I should do something about it. I received the message, but did not take action. People were talking to me, my body was talking to me, I heard it, and did not listen.
Why not? I was finding excuses. I was very busy and had absolutely no time to take breaks. I experienced setbacks in my career and personal challenges in changing from a young urban professional to a parent raising children. A potential health problem was way down on my list. About my looks I could not have cared less – I just bought bigger clothes.
So I did not change my lifestyle and I did not realize that I had a problem – my answer was to make things worse by working harder. I became even more successful in my job and with my family – the most success I ever had. And yes, I was starting to feel tired and feel the strain – but I thought that is what happens if you work hard. I saw the same happen to other people and found myself only repeating the experience of my parents´ generation. I started to look like my father at the same age. I found confirmation everywhere. I was no different and thought “such is life”.
Well, I was wrong. I finally got my wake-up call a little bit more than one year ago when I found myself falling asleep in the armchair on a regular basis (often in front of the television). I did go to see my doctor and I started to listen seriously to my wife. They both told me that something was very wrong. They did not tell me what to do. They made me look at myself and made it plain that I was not in a good condition, way out of my zone – that I was not healthy and that I had been on a slow downward trend for all these years. The doctor told me that if I continued on my path – it would end badly. This confirmed thoughts and feelings that I had myself.
Sure, I had achieved things by working hard. I was not tired from working hard. I was tired from being unhealthy. I can now see that I used my reserves and was not replenishing them. In reality I was not learning many new things, I was not recharging my batteries, and I was no longer changing my world. I was saying “No, I cannot” more often than “Yes, I can”.
This was not so clear to me one year ago as it is now. I reluctantly admitted that my wife and the doctor could have a point. This was a small and very important first step. I started with an action plan to lose weight, stuck with it – lost weight, became more able and active, and found out that it is not difficult at all to do the necessary things and make time for them. Once I started doing the right things, it did not take a long time to reverse the trend. Life is fun again. I feel happy now and back in my zone. Ready to change my world.
Did I suddenly change my life? No, that is the best part. I am still very busy and have no time for great hikes or go to the gym two times a week, but I plan to add this to my fun time as soon as possible. Once I became aware of what I needed to do I found it very easy to accommodate the necessary things in my lifestyle as it had become.
There is another thing that is good. I am a person that tries to explain the world and life and likes to control it. A substantial part of my newfound happiness is that with problem and solution out in the open – I feel confident that I know what I am doing and where I am going. I saw the abyss, I know now where it is – and how to keep safely away from it.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
My advisor comments on August and September
One of my advisors has been commenting for some time that world events we are now experiencing are here to challenge us where we place a lot of symbolic value. Like compassion, integrity, and self-respect. Yeah, we've got this one down. Do it all the time. At the gas station, during our tax audit . . .
My advisor also reminds us to stay focused in The Light.
What?
Plenty of us have heard at least once others reference “The Light”. Ok. How many possible interpretations of light can we think of in five seconds? This may bring up a lot of images for you. Some smarmy, some smart. One of my favorites is “seeing in the dark” when the light goes out. That's my choice for my advisor's comment. Whatever it means to you, the times we are in are bringing fresh opportunities to practice en-light-ened exchanges. With ourselves as well as others. Whatever your goals in your daily life, the intensification of energy that is accelerating in the universe and directed to our solar system affects you. This is no longer the stuff of fringe, it’s cold, hard, science.
I look where I'm stepping and watch how I handle stressful situations now like my life depends on it. Fear. Doubt. Anger. Suspicion. Contempt.
Why has this become so painful for me to do? Fear? Doubt? Suspicion . . .
If your ability to handle stress seems more difficult every day like it is for me, you are experiencing this energy. Its not just you. Everyone is. Ask around.
Some are fortunate to be experiencing deep love at this time and seem beyond stress. I can't stand these people. I want them to be working it as hard as I am. Not fair. The quality of that love however, might be challenged, sooner than later.
Say your expectation of another to continue participating fully in your experience becomes less than your expectation, how will you relate to that person? What will your reaction be? If, as my advisor counsels, you don’t react, something falls away from the event. It disappears back into its “native nothingness” as Florence Scovel Shinn describes it.
What?
"Its not the experience, its how you act in the presence of the experience" my advisor continues like a broken record. These are smart words, until some smarmy event serves up strong emotion demanding to be released. Then, and only then, will you know if you can focus on “The Light” and stay in your Zone, whatever you choose that to be for you.
“Ok, I see the light. If I am true to myself and have enough respect for myself, I will view my emotions as a challenge to call upon some generous acts. That should get me zoned.”
What?
Contemplation like this is flat-out impossible. I just want to deck somebody. What kind of elevated therapeutic modality do I need to calm down and stay zoned? Maybe the kind of training that makes that hill easier to climb on the bike, every time. I get zoned by the sweetness of my gears changing smoothly and my cadence from rotating pedals singing that song I know so well. I hang a little more on the hill until my purported integrity can reinvent the emotions my self-absorbed emotions want to play out. I start seeing in the dark. Feeling around so I don't trip on something or knock somebody over. That way I know it will all still be there the next time I stumble through.
I think we can use this strategy with ourselves in many ways. If we know from experience we can move beyond whatever is coming "at us" by just making the decision to do it, people and furniture stick around for us.
Why is this such a pain to do? Why does it take such an epic effort? Does contempt feel better? To win? Must we assemble a courtroom and a jury to issue a judgment for us before we decide to just let it go?
My advisor added a quote from Kahlil Gibran, the Lebanese mystic and poet, in her newsletter last month:
“Many of us spend our whole lives running from feeling with the mistaken belief that you cannot bear the pain. But you have already borne the pain. What you have not done is feel all you are beyond that pain.”
What?
My advisor also reminds us to stay focused in The Light.
What?
Plenty of us have heard at least once others reference “The Light”. Ok. How many possible interpretations of light can we think of in five seconds? This may bring up a lot of images for you. Some smarmy, some smart. One of my favorites is “seeing in the dark” when the light goes out. That's my choice for my advisor's comment. Whatever it means to you, the times we are in are bringing fresh opportunities to practice en-light-ened exchanges. With ourselves as well as others. Whatever your goals in your daily life, the intensification of energy that is accelerating in the universe and directed to our solar system affects you. This is no longer the stuff of fringe, it’s cold, hard, science.
I look where I'm stepping and watch how I handle stressful situations now like my life depends on it. Fear. Doubt. Anger. Suspicion. Contempt.
Why has this become so painful for me to do? Fear? Doubt? Suspicion . . .
If your ability to handle stress seems more difficult every day like it is for me, you are experiencing this energy. Its not just you. Everyone is. Ask around.
Some are fortunate to be experiencing deep love at this time and seem beyond stress. I can't stand these people. I want them to be working it as hard as I am. Not fair. The quality of that love however, might be challenged, sooner than later.
Say your expectation of another to continue participating fully in your experience becomes less than your expectation, how will you relate to that person? What will your reaction be? If, as my advisor counsels, you don’t react, something falls away from the event. It disappears back into its “native nothingness” as Florence Scovel Shinn describes it.
What?
"Its not the experience, its how you act in the presence of the experience" my advisor continues like a broken record. These are smart words, until some smarmy event serves up strong emotion demanding to be released. Then, and only then, will you know if you can focus on “The Light” and stay in your Zone, whatever you choose that to be for you.
“Ok, I see the light. If I am true to myself and have enough respect for myself, I will view my emotions as a challenge to call upon some generous acts. That should get me zoned.”
What?
Contemplation like this is flat-out impossible. I just want to deck somebody. What kind of elevated therapeutic modality do I need to calm down and stay zoned? Maybe the kind of training that makes that hill easier to climb on the bike, every time. I get zoned by the sweetness of my gears changing smoothly and my cadence from rotating pedals singing that song I know so well. I hang a little more on the hill until my purported integrity can reinvent the emotions my self-absorbed emotions want to play out. I start seeing in the dark. Feeling around so I don't trip on something or knock somebody over. That way I know it will all still be there the next time I stumble through.
I think we can use this strategy with ourselves in many ways. If we know from experience we can move beyond whatever is coming "at us" by just making the decision to do it, people and furniture stick around for us.
Why is this such a pain to do? Why does it take such an epic effort? Does contempt feel better? To win? Must we assemble a courtroom and a jury to issue a judgment for us before we decide to just let it go?
My advisor added a quote from Kahlil Gibran, the Lebanese mystic and poet, in her newsletter last month:
“Many of us spend our whole lives running from feeling with the mistaken belief that you cannot bear the pain. But you have already borne the pain. What you have not done is feel all you are beyond that pain.”
What?
Monday, August 10, 2009
Going to Paradise
Its hot, so I turn around and decide to do a shorter bike ride by going around the loop next to the Bay, where the wind will cool me down. About two thirds done, I hear the familiar sound of experienced gear clicking behind me, and I know I have a biker on my back.
Competitive cyclists, especially bike racers, have tight social protocols. We don’t wave or get friendly with other cyclists. Just pass. Check out the lycra, recognize one of our own, and a snapped nod of the helmet gets one back. Done.
The guy behind me starts to pass.
“Hey, how’s your day going?”
“Fine”.
Not one of us. One of us doesn’t say anything when passing.
He’s in front now. He’s a big guy and has on a killer design racing jersey for a team in Tennessee. He’s got legs, so he has to be training.
“My day is going great now that I have a wheel!”
I jump on. Who am I kidding? I’m coming back after too long off, I’ve been working hard at it, but no way am I going to stay with him. Unless he just got here from Tennessee and doesn’t know Paradise Loop. I’ve got the tight turns and gear shifts down from hundreds of training rides and it’s my only chance. He looks back regularly to see if he’s dropped me yet, lets up a little, I am still a foot off his wheel, and we're still at a good pace. I guess this won’t be a hammerfest, so a conversation starts as we roll.
“No, I live in Mill Valley, not Tennessee. I raced with them until my accident.”
“Road race or criterium?”
“Neither. My and my buddy were sprinting, I went down, the pavement hit my forehead first and missed the helmet. It was bad for a while. My wife kept asking if I would live. That’s all she asked.”
“How did she cope with one kid and another on the way?”
“She was calm. Didn’t freak out, just kept asking if I would live. I’m getting my conditioning back though, but no more racing.”
“Yeah. I was lucky for the ten years I raced, so I quit while I was in one piece. So, did you have that Ah-ha moment people talk about after you recovered and realized you were still here?”
Whatever he said to me, I honestly don’t remember. I think his actions for the rest of our ride just overwhelmed whatever came out of his mouth.
Along the bike path section, its cluttered with joggers, dogs, kids, baby strollers, old people, other cyclists – he slows down the pace, which I have learned is a sign of higher intelligence. Training with hammerheads that just yelled everyone out of the way was the life I lived.
But this guy – he was strangely different. He actually had what seemed like a deep five second conversation with every human he passed.
“Hey little buddy, move to the right. Yeah, that’s good.
Coming through folks. How’s your day going?
Hang right there sweetie, we’re passing you on the left.”
It’s like the whole world was his kid or his relative. I wasn't prepared. Never had I ridden next to anyone like that who took competition seriously.
We split in Mill Valley. He went home to his still pregnant wife and his still successful software company and still alive and still on the bike.
I rode on without a thought, an emotion, an anything. I was just in awe as the awareness of my blindness to people now hammered itself into me.
Competitive cyclists, especially bike racers, have tight social protocols. We don’t wave or get friendly with other cyclists. Just pass. Check out the lycra, recognize one of our own, and a snapped nod of the helmet gets one back. Done.
The guy behind me starts to pass.
“Hey, how’s your day going?”
“Fine”.
Not one of us. One of us doesn’t say anything when passing.
He’s in front now. He’s a big guy and has on a killer design racing jersey for a team in Tennessee. He’s got legs, so he has to be training.
“My day is going great now that I have a wheel!”
I jump on. Who am I kidding? I’m coming back after too long off, I’ve been working hard at it, but no way am I going to stay with him. Unless he just got here from Tennessee and doesn’t know Paradise Loop. I’ve got the tight turns and gear shifts down from hundreds of training rides and it’s my only chance. He looks back regularly to see if he’s dropped me yet, lets up a little, I am still a foot off his wheel, and we're still at a good pace. I guess this won’t be a hammerfest, so a conversation starts as we roll.
“No, I live in Mill Valley, not Tennessee. I raced with them until my accident.”
“Road race or criterium?”
“Neither. My and my buddy were sprinting, I went down, the pavement hit my forehead first and missed the helmet. It was bad for a while. My wife kept asking if I would live. That’s all she asked.”
“How did she cope with one kid and another on the way?”
“She was calm. Didn’t freak out, just kept asking if I would live. I’m getting my conditioning back though, but no more racing.”
“Yeah. I was lucky for the ten years I raced, so I quit while I was in one piece. So, did you have that Ah-ha moment people talk about after you recovered and realized you were still here?”
Whatever he said to me, I honestly don’t remember. I think his actions for the rest of our ride just overwhelmed whatever came out of his mouth.
Along the bike path section, its cluttered with joggers, dogs, kids, baby strollers, old people, other cyclists – he slows down the pace, which I have learned is a sign of higher intelligence. Training with hammerheads that just yelled everyone out of the way was the life I lived.
But this guy – he was strangely different. He actually had what seemed like a deep five second conversation with every human he passed.
“Hey little buddy, move to the right. Yeah, that’s good.
Coming through folks. How’s your day going?
Hang right there sweetie, we’re passing you on the left.”
It’s like the whole world was his kid or his relative. I wasn't prepared. Never had I ridden next to anyone like that who took competition seriously.
We split in Mill Valley. He went home to his still pregnant wife and his still successful software company and still alive and still on the bike.
I rode on without a thought, an emotion, an anything. I was just in awe as the awareness of my blindness to people now hammered itself into me.
Hedge Fund Manager seeks jazz gig
I’ve got another design review committee assembled to evaluate my new mylar business card at the local feed zone. My reviewer is waiting for a friend to show up and drink the other half of his bottle of Merlot, and he’s more than late. Two more bar stools left, its Sunday night, still they are going fast. Another sits between us and gives his business card to my reviewer. He eats, talks about hedge funds, and leaves.
My reviewer hands me the guy’s card. It tops mine. On the front, an investment firm. On the back hand written “jazz combo for hire”. We smile, assured everyone is in this economic downturn together.
One conversation turns into another, and we end up comparing world travel notes. He’s a pilot of his own little jet and likes to fly solo.
Every pilot I know can’t resist their personal epic story of “had fun and lived to tell about it”. His was over Barrow, Alaska, and as usual, involved running out of gas. He escaped with some cool polar bear pics and his life.
I’ve got a story too, but his friend shows up and he’s gone.
It’s too late. My mind is racing thousands of feet up in the air. I don’t see polar bears, I see tiny spots of range cattle scattered around a dirt runway. We are bouncing sideways as we hit in a stunt plane.
Had fun and lived to tell about it.
My friend Sally was the daughter of a rancher in Northeast New Mexico. Middle of nowhere. We had launched a couple hot air balloons, got a view, and collected at the ranch house. Her father’s stepson is 16, and can’t let it go until we take a ride in his father’s stunt plane. Great. Loaned the keys to his stepson. I think this will be interesting, so I show some interest.
"Wow! Let's go for it! Like, now!"
The others take the bait and line up outside next to the dirt runway that doubles for the road to the ranch.
He taxies toward us in the World’s Smallest Plane. I re-evaluate my enthusiasm as he hits the brakes, stops on a dime, pelting us with gravel. My brother, a hang glider pilot and my rival sibling, is in the group. This is my chance to get even. Since even he looks a little edgy, I grab first place in line.
My pilot flings open the door and yells at me to get in over the noise of an engine that sounds like a lawn mower.
I don’t even have to jump. This thing is slightly larger than a remotely controlled hobby plane. Its made of cables and canvas with wheels about the size on a baby buggy. I look around inside and all I see is a value pack of toilet paper behind my seat.
Is this good or bad?
My pilot jumps in, and we’re off, everything shaking and squeaking as we kick up the runway dust.
This plane does not want to fly. The cables go taut like snapping rubber bands, canvas flapping in the wind. We leave the ground just in time to miss a dozen cattle that completely ignore us and are obviously familiar with this drill. The plane turns into a vertical projectile. Cattle and sagebrush turn into sky.
“Yeeeehaw!”
It is my pilot speaking.
Hey, how you doin' back there?”
“Fine!”
The plane heaves again to horizontal. I have one eye on the ground and the other on his arm bracing the window so it won’t collapse into the cockpit. Another vertical. Then a stall in mid-air. The engine cuts out to a sputter. Slipping back a little, then forward, we take a nosedive. Well, ok, this is it.
“Heeeeere we go!" he yells. Picking up speed, we are going down.
“Hand me a roll of toilet paper!”
Oh joy, he’s also about to lose his lunch. Or worse.
I had not unwrapped toilet paper that fast in my entire life. I push it into his hand outstretched in my face with all five digits spread like a baseball mitt. Sliding back the window, he throws the roll out. I watch it unfurl like a corkscrew jet stream. Its very elegant. Not a bad last visual of life.
Then, the plane stalls a little, and miraculously goes into loops, tracking the toilet paper and chopping it into artistic bits.
“Awwwwright!”
Its my pilot again. I guess he is still in control, and now on a roll.
Just when I think we’re having fun, the ground shows up. The cattle get bigger. The waiting fans and the ranch house get bigger.
“We’re gonna buzz ‘em!”
Well, ok.
I sense I am in for the Big Racking Move. Sure enough, what is feet from the dirt turns into a switch in direction that gives me an eternal appreciation for aviation technology. Wings flapping, windows sucking in and out, metal cable whining, we just miss the ranch house, loop, and come back parallel to the landing strip. All motion in reverse, we skid to a side stop, pelting the fans with more dirt and gravel. My pilot is pleased.
“How’d ya like it?”
Having an audience, I give nothing away.
“That was just, uh, awesome!”
My brother is next up and I don’t want to ruin it for him. He watched me eat dirt on hang glider landings several times with no pity, and now its his turn. One fan after another willingly goes up and comes down, now that I have broken in the trail.
That evening at the dinner table big enough to seat the next town, we all eat and calmly compare flight notes. My brother stops talking, stares at me with a mouthful, and lets out one of his signature laughs, head rolled back at the ceiling.
I have not disappointed him.
My reviewer hands me the guy’s card. It tops mine. On the front, an investment firm. On the back hand written “jazz combo for hire”. We smile, assured everyone is in this economic downturn together.
One conversation turns into another, and we end up comparing world travel notes. He’s a pilot of his own little jet and likes to fly solo.
Every pilot I know can’t resist their personal epic story of “had fun and lived to tell about it”. His was over Barrow, Alaska, and as usual, involved running out of gas. He escaped with some cool polar bear pics and his life.
I’ve got a story too, but his friend shows up and he’s gone.
It’s too late. My mind is racing thousands of feet up in the air. I don’t see polar bears, I see tiny spots of range cattle scattered around a dirt runway. We are bouncing sideways as we hit in a stunt plane.
Had fun and lived to tell about it.
My friend Sally was the daughter of a rancher in Northeast New Mexico. Middle of nowhere. We had launched a couple hot air balloons, got a view, and collected at the ranch house. Her father’s stepson is 16, and can’t let it go until we take a ride in his father’s stunt plane. Great. Loaned the keys to his stepson. I think this will be interesting, so I show some interest.
"Wow! Let's go for it! Like, now!"
The others take the bait and line up outside next to the dirt runway that doubles for the road to the ranch.
He taxies toward us in the World’s Smallest Plane. I re-evaluate my enthusiasm as he hits the brakes, stops on a dime, pelting us with gravel. My brother, a hang glider pilot and my rival sibling, is in the group. This is my chance to get even. Since even he looks a little edgy, I grab first place in line.
My pilot flings open the door and yells at me to get in over the noise of an engine that sounds like a lawn mower.
I don’t even have to jump. This thing is slightly larger than a remotely controlled hobby plane. Its made of cables and canvas with wheels about the size on a baby buggy. I look around inside and all I see is a value pack of toilet paper behind my seat.
Is this good or bad?
My pilot jumps in, and we’re off, everything shaking and squeaking as we kick up the runway dust.
This plane does not want to fly. The cables go taut like snapping rubber bands, canvas flapping in the wind. We leave the ground just in time to miss a dozen cattle that completely ignore us and are obviously familiar with this drill. The plane turns into a vertical projectile. Cattle and sagebrush turn into sky.
“Yeeeehaw!”
It is my pilot speaking.
Hey, how you doin' back there?”
“Fine!”
The plane heaves again to horizontal. I have one eye on the ground and the other on his arm bracing the window so it won’t collapse into the cockpit. Another vertical. Then a stall in mid-air. The engine cuts out to a sputter. Slipping back a little, then forward, we take a nosedive. Well, ok, this is it.
“Heeeeere we go!" he yells. Picking up speed, we are going down.
“Hand me a roll of toilet paper!”
Oh joy, he’s also about to lose his lunch. Or worse.
I had not unwrapped toilet paper that fast in my entire life. I push it into his hand outstretched in my face with all five digits spread like a baseball mitt. Sliding back the window, he throws the roll out. I watch it unfurl like a corkscrew jet stream. Its very elegant. Not a bad last visual of life.
Then, the plane stalls a little, and miraculously goes into loops, tracking the toilet paper and chopping it into artistic bits.
“Awwwwright!”
Its my pilot again. I guess he is still in control, and now on a roll.
Just when I think we’re having fun, the ground shows up. The cattle get bigger. The waiting fans and the ranch house get bigger.
“We’re gonna buzz ‘em!”
Well, ok.
I sense I am in for the Big Racking Move. Sure enough, what is feet from the dirt turns into a switch in direction that gives me an eternal appreciation for aviation technology. Wings flapping, windows sucking in and out, metal cable whining, we just miss the ranch house, loop, and come back parallel to the landing strip. All motion in reverse, we skid to a side stop, pelting the fans with more dirt and gravel. My pilot is pleased.
“How’d ya like it?”
Having an audience, I give nothing away.
“That was just, uh, awesome!”
My brother is next up and I don’t want to ruin it for him. He watched me eat dirt on hang glider landings several times with no pity, and now its his turn. One fan after another willingly goes up and comes down, now that I have broken in the trail.
That evening at the dinner table big enough to seat the next town, we all eat and calmly compare flight notes. My brother stops talking, stares at me with a mouthful, and lets out one of his signature laughs, head rolled back at the ceiling.
I have not disappointed him.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
More quiet beans for dinner
My New Mexico blood never left me. Its the only excuse I have in Marin County for being a frequent diner at a Mexican restaurant.
I like the half hour drive north. Since I don’t commute to and from my office, I am obligated to make those gas prices worth something. And it clears my head.
This Mexican Restaurant is my favorite. They made the mistake of treating me like family the day I walked in, so now it feels a little like home.
One of the owners is a car collector. He bullies me regularly with the ultimate compliment he is buying my 2002 ALMS cherry red Audi TT when I sell it or else. So I park right in front, walk in . . .
“no David, not selling”.
I checked this place out several years ago. There was a fountain in the front patio huge enough to be in Heaven.
I then walked over to a stainless steel pro BBQ grill that was loaded with oysters equally huge that reminded me of digging them up in Puget Sound during a daily sail. I was an instant regular customer when the other owner told me they were flown in from Seattle Fish twice a week.
The first few orders, after I emptied the shells, I would turn them over one by one and just look at them. It had been so long, but, no way was I going to walk out with any. That would put me right up there with the people who leave the Christmas lights up until June or load up the front yard with mollusk shards.
The bartender there is infamous. Not famous, infamous. He is the epic drink chef, remote TV operator, food server, order taker, substitute manager, dish busser, free entertainment, and waitress heckler.
He doesn’t cry. He only laughs. I come in crying, leave laughing.
Tonight David asks me what's new. I tell him I finished my website, finally rented my place in Park City, and started a blog.
“Really. What do you put in a blog?”
“Stories”.
“About what?”
“Rhinos”.
“?”
"I also wrote about a restaurant I went to, so maybe I will write about others.”
“Uh Oh.”
I like the half hour drive north. Since I don’t commute to and from my office, I am obligated to make those gas prices worth something. And it clears my head.
This Mexican Restaurant is my favorite. They made the mistake of treating me like family the day I walked in, so now it feels a little like home.
One of the owners is a car collector. He bullies me regularly with the ultimate compliment he is buying my 2002 ALMS cherry red Audi TT when I sell it or else. So I park right in front, walk in . . .
“no David, not selling”.
I checked this place out several years ago. There was a fountain in the front patio huge enough to be in Heaven.
I then walked over to a stainless steel pro BBQ grill that was loaded with oysters equally huge that reminded me of digging them up in Puget Sound during a daily sail. I was an instant regular customer when the other owner told me they were flown in from Seattle Fish twice a week.
The first few orders, after I emptied the shells, I would turn them over one by one and just look at them. It had been so long, but, no way was I going to walk out with any. That would put me right up there with the people who leave the Christmas lights up until June or load up the front yard with mollusk shards.
The bartender there is infamous. Not famous, infamous. He is the epic drink chef, remote TV operator, food server, order taker, substitute manager, dish busser, free entertainment, and waitress heckler.
He doesn’t cry. He only laughs. I come in crying, leave laughing.
Tonight David asks me what's new. I tell him I finished my website, finally rented my place in Park City, and started a blog.
“Really. What do you put in a blog?”
“Stories”.
“About what?”
“Rhinos”.
“?”
"I also wrote about a restaurant I went to, so maybe I will write about others.”
“Uh Oh.”
Friday, July 31, 2009
Is anything afraid of an elephant?
I'm in Pasta Pomodoro for the best rare skirt steak on the planet. More intervals on the bike today, and my craving for iron continues to separate me from my veggie friends.
Emily is my waitperson, I am the last customer, and I am attacking the Tirimisu already out of the to-go box. We agree on the superior piece of meat, the work hours (I owned a restaurant on the Big Island in Hawaii), and somehow the small talk morphed into killer bees, then rhinos.
I think it started with altitude, which ironically is an image I selected for my blog. I tell her the boring moments on the Big Island I cured by shipping my skis over from the Mainland and skiing Mauna Kea at 14,000 feet for one day.
The next day at Hapuna Beach, we all get sick from what was surely a minor case of HAPE (see Wiki) which I tell Emily is possible at high altitude, which segs into my Annapurna III Expedition. I am recalling my day with a rhino in Nepal, after we climbed Annapurna.
As a cool-down, Tom, Michael, and I visited Tiger Tops, a national project dedicated to re-populating the dwindling tiger population after the British decimated it. We have a tour guide, and I describe to Emily the beginning of a casual walking tour to one of the observation towers for visitors to view some "wildlife". I am thinking this will be a totally boring day as a tourist, but maybe, just maybe we will see a tiger and it will be worth our time.
The first fragrance on the trail is a large pile of dung. Too large for a horse I am thinking, and it is swarming with flies. The flies are actually migrating killer bees feeding on elephant dung, which we will later be told just terrorized villages in northern India leaving dead people in the wake. Michael is at the front of our little expedition, and he starts sprinting, arms flying in all directions, with dozens of tiny insects pumping away with their thoraxes at his clothes, neck, and face. Slow motion sets in, the guide is yelling at us to jump into the river and throw our colored daypacks as far away from us as we can.
"Bees like color!" I hear. Now we are all sprinting, and I have torn the clasp out of my long hair and messed it all over my face and neck like a portable mosquito net. It's "every man for himself" and I hit the river first without my daypack.
"Ok, they took off, you can come out of the river now" our guide yells.
We gather for a body count. Tom pulls out his Swiss army knife and, like on the mountain, calmly performs his surgery, cutting off the still pumping venom sacs in our skins. Michael's lip is the size of Alaska, and his face is beginning to swell.
"We can walk this off on the way to the tiger observation tower" our guide states. So I guess he thinks we will live and have some more adventure left in us.
About a half hour later, a snort ahead that sounds like a 7.5 earth tremor sets off the alarm again.
"It's a rhino" our guide flatly states. "Take cover!".
He's got to be kidding. No, he's not. Here he comes, the most freakingly huge alligator skinned alien beast I have seen, even at the zoo. Again, "every man for himself". Guess we left the team spirit on Annapurna, as I face it with the rhino, the men out of sight.
I hang a right toward something that looks like a tree. It's pathetic, but I think it will hold me. I drop the colored pack bait again and climb to the top as it bends over and threatens to toss me off. This rhino has a good nose and lousy eyesight, because all he has to go by is my scent. He stops at the foot of the tiny sapling that is hosting me, snorts my pack with a 5.5 tremor and then the trunk of my treehouse. I'm a history piece for National Geographic I am thinking at this point, when I see Tom, Michael, and the guide over the savannah brush gently swaying like they are sailing gracefully through the terai.
The rhino turns, snorts another tremor, and makes a "fast walk" for it.
Now I know, rhinos are afraid of elephants, because at that moment the guys come into view on top of their limo service - an elephant driven by his trainer. I am subtle in my arm waving, but they see me.
"You can come down now, rhinos are afraid of elephants" the guide yells at me.
No kidding.
Emily's eyes are as big as the serving trays at this point and get bigger when I tell her that was just one day of our year long adventure tour.
"I could start in on the Iranian revolution we got trapped in, but if I do Emily you will never get out of here tonight".
"Dang Ann, you should start a blog!"
"Really? That's hilarious. I just started one today".
"Really? Where can I find it? Will you post some of your stories?"
"Yeah, ok. I'll start with killer bees and the rhinos".
Emily is my waitperson, I am the last customer, and I am attacking the Tirimisu already out of the to-go box. We agree on the superior piece of meat, the work hours (I owned a restaurant on the Big Island in Hawaii), and somehow the small talk morphed into killer bees, then rhinos.
I think it started with altitude, which ironically is an image I selected for my blog. I tell her the boring moments on the Big Island I cured by shipping my skis over from the Mainland and skiing Mauna Kea at 14,000 feet for one day.
The next day at Hapuna Beach, we all get sick from what was surely a minor case of HAPE (see Wiki) which I tell Emily is possible at high altitude, which segs into my Annapurna III Expedition. I am recalling my day with a rhino in Nepal, after we climbed Annapurna.
As a cool-down, Tom, Michael, and I visited Tiger Tops, a national project dedicated to re-populating the dwindling tiger population after the British decimated it. We have a tour guide, and I describe to Emily the beginning of a casual walking tour to one of the observation towers for visitors to view some "wildlife". I am thinking this will be a totally boring day as a tourist, but maybe, just maybe we will see a tiger and it will be worth our time.
The first fragrance on the trail is a large pile of dung. Too large for a horse I am thinking, and it is swarming with flies. The flies are actually migrating killer bees feeding on elephant dung, which we will later be told just terrorized villages in northern India leaving dead people in the wake. Michael is at the front of our little expedition, and he starts sprinting, arms flying in all directions, with dozens of tiny insects pumping away with their thoraxes at his clothes, neck, and face. Slow motion sets in, the guide is yelling at us to jump into the river and throw our colored daypacks as far away from us as we can.
"Bees like color!" I hear. Now we are all sprinting, and I have torn the clasp out of my long hair and messed it all over my face and neck like a portable mosquito net. It's "every man for himself" and I hit the river first without my daypack.
"Ok, they took off, you can come out of the river now" our guide yells.
We gather for a body count. Tom pulls out his Swiss army knife and, like on the mountain, calmly performs his surgery, cutting off the still pumping venom sacs in our skins. Michael's lip is the size of Alaska, and his face is beginning to swell.
"We can walk this off on the way to the tiger observation tower" our guide states. So I guess he thinks we will live and have some more adventure left in us.
About a half hour later, a snort ahead that sounds like a 7.5 earth tremor sets off the alarm again.
"It's a rhino" our guide flatly states. "Take cover!".
He's got to be kidding. No, he's not. Here he comes, the most freakingly huge alligator skinned alien beast I have seen, even at the zoo. Again, "every man for himself". Guess we left the team spirit on Annapurna, as I face it with the rhino, the men out of sight.
I hang a right toward something that looks like a tree. It's pathetic, but I think it will hold me. I drop the colored pack bait again and climb to the top as it bends over and threatens to toss me off. This rhino has a good nose and lousy eyesight, because all he has to go by is my scent. He stops at the foot of the tiny sapling that is hosting me, snorts my pack with a 5.5 tremor and then the trunk of my treehouse. I'm a history piece for National Geographic I am thinking at this point, when I see Tom, Michael, and the guide over the savannah brush gently swaying like they are sailing gracefully through the terai.
The rhino turns, snorts another tremor, and makes a "fast walk" for it.
Now I know, rhinos are afraid of elephants, because at that moment the guys come into view on top of their limo service - an elephant driven by his trainer. I am subtle in my arm waving, but they see me.
"You can come down now, rhinos are afraid of elephants" the guide yells at me.
No kidding.
Emily's eyes are as big as the serving trays at this point and get bigger when I tell her that was just one day of our year long adventure tour.
"I could start in on the Iranian revolution we got trapped in, but if I do Emily you will never get out of here tonight".
"Dang Ann, you should start a blog!"
"Really? That's hilarious. I just started one today".
"Really? Where can I find it? Will you post some of your stories?"
"Yeah, ok. I'll start with killer bees and the rhinos".
Fit For Life
What does it mean to be fit for life?
I selected an image of a very high mountain for my blog. I climbed Annapurna III (Nepal) in a challenging environment. Its a good visual to describe how I make friends with surprise, and we had plenty of them on the expedition! Don't know about you, but surprises come at me every day, and I do everything I can to adjust to the arrival with challenging practice runs. How do I do it? Ski off into the trees along the ski patrol boundary rope. Descend on the bike into the turns at 35 mph with fresh spring potholes to jump. Buy real estate . . .
Life is now full of really interesting surprises, and the Hubbel telescope brings back the evidence of more time acceleration constantly. Anyone who isn't aware of this has found their "happy place". If you haven't found yours yet, I'm betting you have a lot of company. Adjustment to surprise is my goal every minute.
I wasn't built or born into into it like my brother. He's a boundary skier too. Hang gliders, anything that gets him off something with air. I credit him with an "aha" moment though. On one of his walls he placed a wood carved set of letters "adjust". He could have leveled it on the nail, but insisted hanging it at an an angle. The architect in me would level it. Next day, angled again. That's when I realized the only way for me to adjust is to choose "the edge". Some edges get me in the zone, some don't. Edges are useful. They clue me in to where my reaction to surprise needs a little refinement.
I was recently invited by a prominent website to post a story about myself. Uh-oh. If I did post,"what would the neighbors think"? But then, what would they think if someone told them I had said no to climbing a fabulously beautiful and dangerous mountain in a foreign country full of amazing humans and experiences?
All Bets Were Off with myself. I wrote it.
It's good timing for me to write anything related to a healthy lifestyle. We have a healthcare emergency in this country. Too many need medical attention for problems that could have been easily avoided by compensating for a life in a luxurious country with a little movement and excitement. For those who choose to maintain their health with a lifestyle change, its never too late. Ever!
My healthy lifestyle has four catagories - what I eat, breathe, think, challenge my body to do, and how much I do of each. Of these, three can become addictions, so I practice “self-management”.
They didn’t name it “comfort food” accidentally. Food can easily replace intimacy with others and ourselves. It can derail what psychologists call individuation. Food can become the “bubble wrap” that mimics the protection we received as infants and children. Breathing is not on my addiction list. I can’t overdo breathing. Cyclists and swimmers have the largest hearts. That's plenty of breathing to cycle that blood at rapid speed and clean it up!
Living in my head is too easy for me. As a dyslexic, I use the right and left sides of my brain at the same time, using more of my brain than people who use either the left or the right. I have a 3D program running all the time. Its my personal video game. But, there's a problem with all this fun. It blocks the transition from Thinking to Doing.
What I have discovered is athletics overrides the left side of my brain and I get in pure intuitive mode. I take it as it comes, and that's it. My brain starts firing all synapses without any analysis at all. For me, a miracle. I love Jill Bolte Taylor's story about her brain "stroke of insight". Her description of it is exactly what I experience.
When I was asked by a website to contribute to a Healthy Lifestyle section for people who want to do athletic activities when they don't have the motivation, I agreed. There are however, limits to what you do.
Feeling superhuman can lead to our demise. We all know people who get a personal trainer. It’s all good until the trainer isn’t there. They gradually lose their resolve. The self-loathing kicks in and the cycle returns to nowhere.
What didn’t happen? "Individuation" creates self-management.
Another close friend, Robert Fulghum, a master at one-liners, reacted to one of my left brain episodes several months ago "Just know the difference between giving up and letting go." Not what I wanted to hear at all. Dang. More "work" to do, not realizing letting go didn't require any work. I really thought I was more evolved.
My focus with my readers is challenging the body within reason, feeding it with good stuff, and reminding the mind how to know the difference between giving up and letting go. These have been major challenges in my own life and continue to be.
What's the payoff here? Why even try? Why suffer? Why . . .
I can't tell you what it will do for you, but if you want a challenge, you can choose guidelines for self-management in your life. You can learn to depend on yourself and trust your intuition rather than on others to do it for you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
