Back In A While

I'm going on a little vacation, and will resume posting when I get back.

Are You Eating The Real Thing?

I'm making an effort to introduce more "real"/natural/unadulterated foods into my diet, and it's dawned on me that sometimes what we think we've been eating all these years is something completely different:

A recent example is my experiment with maple syrup. I'm a big fan of pancakes and waffles, so I thought I would try "real" maple syrup. I tried a couple of different varieties, and my first impression was-

It doesn't taste like it's "supposed to".

I tried some different kinds, and noticed some differences (for example, the darker the syrup, the stronger the flavor typically), and that Grade A isn't necessarily "better" than Grade B, it's just different. Still, to me, the natural maple syrup mainly tasted sweet, not "maple-y", which started me wondering, what exactly is in most name brand pancake syrups? (and there is a reason they call it "pancake syrup", which we shall see).

After examining several different brands, including Mrs. Butterworth's (our family favorite), it turns out the main ingredient is molasses, not maple syrup (along with the typical assortment of preservatives, artificial flavorings, etc.) Thus, my taste confusion became clear-

I was totally wrong about what maple syrup was "supposed to" taste like because I'd never actually had it.

So, my decision now is to a)get accustomed to the taste of real maple syrup; or b)find a more unadulterated type of molasses to pour on my Sunday waffles, since apparently that's what I've been eating (and liking) all these years.

Just a little object lesson in a world of knock-offs, derivatives, and outright fakes-are you eating the real thing?

A Letter Home - 09/11/01

Shortly after September 11, 2001, I came across the piece below on a blog called Right Thinking Girl. I've kept it all these years because to me, it was very powerful and touching. It's an imaginary letter written by a woman who died when the towers fell, telling her husband about her last moments and saying goodbye.

I thought it deserved to see the light of day again. In tribute to the writer (who I am unable to locate), in memory of the innocent people who died that day, and all of those who gave their lives trying to save them, here it is. It's called A Letter Home.

Dear S,

I know you wake up in the morning wondering if it was real or if it was all a bad dream. I know that the bed seems so empty, even when you're lying there, because you don't believe in the anything anymore, not even the physical realities of the world. You fail to see how you can be there, alive, when I am not, as if the notion of one of us existing without the other is incomprehensible. Those moments of confusion, when you think maybe you're the one who is dead because the pain is so immense that you simply cannot be alive and experiencing such depths of agony, well I know about those too.

I know you are wondering why you had to be on the ground that day, and why I had to be what seemed like a hundred miles up, in that tall silver building that seemed every day until that day to be indestructible. I know those dark and sour thoughts have worn neural grooves in your brain, and you go over them like worry beads, trying to find a way inside, a way to go back in time and stop it all from happening.

If only you'd done this, or that, or the other thing.

You couldn't have stopped it, baby. The origins of that morning were in place long before we got to the office that morning, long before we knew each other, long before we were even born. The more you chase the contrails of that event, the father you get away from me, because I'm still here, still right beside you, still loving you.

I know you cry yourself to sleep sometimes wondering if I was scared and if I was alone and what my last thoughts were. I was scared, but I wasn't alone. I was with Joanna, the same Joanna who was with me on the day I found out I was pregnant. The same Joanna who had eaten dinner at our table more times than I could count. The same Joanna you banished to the balcony so she could smoke her cigarettes. When we realized that things were bad, we huddled together, whispering our prayers. At some point it became clear that we had to do something. The fire was so bad by then. The smoke was too much. The flames were more intense than anything I had ever felt, it was as if they were electrified, just going everywhere and so violent. Together we stood on the glass of broken windows, smelling the big, fresh, blue air. We looked down, way down to the ground where the people were. So many people had already died. My boss. Jacie, one of my bridesmaids. Countless others. I was lucky, is what I am trying to tell you. I had time to call you. I had a moment where I could begin to understand, at least, the situation that had befallen me, though the thoughts were as empty as a canyon.

We stood on the ledge, and I couldn't do it. I am an optimist: I still believed that there was hope. Joanna was crying. A man I knew from down the hall came staggering up, and he choked, "I'll go with you."

He was burned. His clothes were smoking. And Joanna held his hand, and she hugged him. They stood on the ledge and I said, "I love you," to them both.

I don't know if they heard me over the roaring fire, the wind, their own thoughts streaming through their chaotic brains at that instant. Joanna didn't turn around to say goodbye. She and the analyst from down the hall held on tight to each other. The walls were closed in with fire, and my throat was choking on the smoke. Joanna tugged his wrist, just a little, and they vaulted from the small window, past the sky, past the idea of sky, to the snapshot blue, and the sea blue by association.

They fell from the sky as saints.

I was thinking about that time you took me to Coney Island and you made me go on the roller coaster, even though I didn't want to, and how I screamed and screamed and screamed as the coaster came screaming down the track, so fast that I barely had time to comprehend it. Our bodies: we believe in them the way we believe in our selves. It scares humans, I think, to get close to that interior edge where the two blur.

I turned from the gaping window. Things were so crazy, baby, you have to understand that at the time, the world had ceased to make sense. So far out there on the margins of existence, it is quiet as a Siberian forest. Time warps and slows down, and there is room to hear your own thoughts, the backlog of thoughts that have simmered under your consciousness for years. The flickers of impressions that glint in your daily life, emerge shyly in your dreams, trickle into the periphery of your conversations, it's all right there. As the flames licked ever closer, I was thinking not of death, not of pain, not of the heat or the roar of flames. I did not ask why? or what's happened?. I did not pray or ask God's forgiveness. No, none of that was very important at the moment. What I was thinking about was you. I have slept with you in that bed that now seems so empty and lonely for over ten years, and at those last few moments I was thinking of the nights when I would wake up for some reason and look at your face. You looked somehow smart even in sleep. Those moments were the most intimate, I think, because nobody else ever knew you like that. It was just for me. In those moments you were not distracted with the baby or work. You were simply my husband, in bed with me. So while I was in that office as the fire swarmed around me, I was thinking about you sleeping, your beautiful, sweet face in perfect repose. That was the last full impression to transverse my brain: the image of my husband sleeping beside me.

When it finally happened for me, I was suddenly jerked downward. There was a rain of fire and sheetrock, and it was over with just that simply. I didn't suffer, certainly no worse than some of the others did. I held the image of you as long as I could.

I am comforted now somewhat by the knowledge that you’ll find another woman who will make you happy. You will emerge from the office one day in early spring and you will discover yourself staring just an extra moment at a young brunette as she slips into a taxi. Or at the club you'll see an ethereal blond who reminds you of someone, and you'll talk to her, and for a few moments you'll remember what it's like to love, and to flirt, and to be welcomed into someone else's day. You will go on. You are strong and you are brave.

I am telling you this because I think the questions about my death are keeping you from seeing the world around you. You are getting all tangled up in the details of that day. My love, my love, remember my ravenous kisses, but escape them. You have the soft air and the sunlight among leaves and the cry of our baby to look forward to. Do not let me steal your universe the way they stole mine.

I wish you a long and happy life.
With love,

Your wife

Be Back Soon

I haven't been feeling too well lately, so posting on the blog has gone on the back burner, but I'm feeling better and will be back shortly.

Observations From The Studio

I spent some extra time at White Dragon (the martial arts school where I practice Tai Chi) this weekend; I had an opportunity for some additional practice and one on one time with an instructor. I had a productive practice time (more on that later), but also noticed some things that I might have missed during a busier time.

Tai Chi has several advanced forms where you use a wooden staff, or some kind of replica edged weapon (dagger, saber, spear, etc.). As I got ready to leave, I noticed a young lady who was obviously preparing for a test of some kind. In one hand, she held a red-handled dagger, in the other, her student logbook, where your instructor records your progress, and results of your tests. She was intently reading the logbook while practicing dagger moves; it made for an interesting sight. One of those times I wished I had a camera; it just struck me as amusing, to see someone reading a book, and practicing with a weapon at the same time.

On the subject of weapons, something else happened over the weekend that was a perfect (and somewhat reassuring) example of the strength of ingrained habits and repetition. I was heading out the back door of the school when another student came through the door with her spear (pretty much all of the weapons practice is done outside due to space limitations). As she entered the building she lowered the spear to get through the door-a bit too much for my taste, since that put it right about eye level for me. Nearly 30 years' experience with other types of weapons kicked in-without even thinking, I simply said, "Muzzle!"*

I don't think she even heard what I said-I think just the sound of my voice got her attention, and made her raise the weapon up-she was quite mortified, and apologized. I just thought my reaction was interesting-she did not have a firearm, but I saw something pointed at me, and reacted just as I had been trained a long time ago. Just thought it was funny how that kicked in, in a completely different context.

As I mentioned, I had a really productive session-I worked on some of the opening moves of the 24 Form routine, and learned the transitions between them, which for me seems the hardest to remember. So excited about getting more of this down that I practiced more at home on Sunday.

* I have nearly 30 years' experience as a competition shooter-during the 90's when I was really active I was also certified as a Range Officer, so I could work as a match official. In Range Officer school, we learned several specific words/phrases to warn competitors if they were doing something potentially unsafe (if someone did something definitely unsafe, it was pretty simple-you just said, "STOP!") "Muzzle" was our warning if the firearm began pointing in an unsafe direction.

Happy Birthday

Today (August 28), a very dear and special friend is having a birthday; since her fitness quest (and transformation in other areas) was a lot of the inspiration for this blog, I thought it was appropriate to post a little tribute.

I was inspired by the lyrics to the song "For Good", from the musical "Wicked". In the play, this song has a completely different context (it's actually a conversation between two sisters), but listening to the song again, I felt some of the verses spoke directly to the core of our very unique and cherished friendship:

"I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return......

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good.

.....You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
You have re-written mine
By being my friend.

Who can say if I've been
Changed for the better?
I do believe I have been
Changed for the better.

And because I knew you.....

Because I knew you

Because I knew you,
I have been changed for good."

Happy birthday, Tina.

Reese and Carter

Just for fun-a series of clips from "Person Of Interest", our current favorite show. Detective Carter is a "girl after my own heart" - gotta love a lady with a case full of guns in her car trunk. Seriously, Reese and Carter are interesting characters-two warriors of a different stripe, learning to trust one another.

Shake, Rattle, and Roll

I was determined to practice a little Qui Gong standing meditation earlier today. Just when my mind was "emptying", nature filled it back up with a series of small earthquakes and aftershocks. I did open my eyes, but kept my breathing steady. :-)

August 19, 2012

229.2

You're Not As Hungry As You Think You Are

This may seem like a no-brainer to a lot of people, but I think it's an example of one of those things that you comprehend intellectually, but don't always "get" emotionally, at least not right off the bat.

I feel like I'm finally tuned in to how much food I really need, and what it really feels like to be full. I've basically been having one large meal a day (typically lunch, or a large breakfast on the weekends), with a protein drink or maybe a small amount of other food at the other two meals. I used to pack 2 snacks a day, but I'm finding that I rarely am hungry in the afternoons anymore. I can usually wait until dinner time to eat.

Where I really used to fall down with this was eating out. Restaurants typically serve much larger portions than you need, and for a long time, I felt somewhat obligated to try and eat everything on my plate at a restaurant. To make a bad pun, this was a recipe for trouble. My logic went something like this:

I paid for it.
It's a sin to waste food.

Well, OK, but looking at it differently, I've come to a new perspective on this-

You don't just pay for the food when you eat out-you pay for the convenience and service of someone preparing and serving it to you. That doesn't necessarily obligate you to eat everything in front of you. If the restaurant is a special place, you're also paying for the ambiance/atmosphere in some cases. If you're eating with a loved one or friend, you're paying for service which facilitates your time together; you can relax and enjoy each other's company while someone else cooks and serves.

You aren't the one wasting the food-the restaurant is choosing to offer food in what I've seen described as "industrial" quantities. Just because they choose to give you that much doesn't obligate you to eat all if it. If I can order a smaller portion, by all means I'll do it, but otherwise I feel like I can now order whatever I choose in a restaurant, and fully enjoy as much (or as little) of it as I like without guilt over wasting food, etc.

This feels very liberating.

Qui Gong in the Steam Bath

It was exremely hot and muggy yesterday in El Cajon and Santee. My 1:00 class was held inside (the last thing you want to do in mid-90s heat and humidity is stand outside in a black uniform), but it was still pretty steamy inside, since the A/C doesn't work all that well, and the fans couldn't quite move enough air.

Standing meditation is even more of a challenge when sweat is rolling down your forehead, and your eyes are closed. I could even feel sweat between my fingers. I know we're supposed to become aware of our body and how we're feeling during this exercise-the weather was really forcing me to pay attention.

I continue to be amazed at how effective a lower body workout this all is. Thursday night, we worked primarily on footwork and structure, where the instructor actually leaned all his weight against us and tried to move us. Didn't realize how hard I'd worked until I started settling down into meditation yesterday, and my quads started to tremble. Had to shift several times to stay comfortable and relieve the discomfort.

Won't be spending much time on leg presses at the gym if I keep this up.....

Lockdown

Given that a) my mother-in-law is in poor health and could pass any time; and b) elementary school teachers have far less flexibility than us working folks when it comes to personal phone calls/e-mails/texting while at work, getting a phone call at the office from my wife is always cause for concern.

Imagine my surprise when she called me this morning, and said, "If you hear anything on the news about a school lockdown, it IS our school, and I'm OK. It actually happened before school started so a lot of her kids weren't there yet, so she took the little ones she had in class into the center classroom in her building (away from all the windows), and had everybody practice "dark and quiet."

I had a full morning of meetings and other tasks, so had limited time to check the news. I ran up to our office manager's desk and explained what was happening, and asked her to check online for any news. No sooner had I gotten that out than Carol called again and told me the lockdown was over and things were getting back to normal.

We still don't know what caused it (whatever it was apparently didn't make the news), but I was left very grateful for my wife's safety, and for good cell service to keep in contact during emergencies. What a helpless feeling knowing someone you love could be in danger at that moment. I was fully prepared to leave work if I thought it was necessary, but still don't know exactly what I would have done.

Grateful to God for his protection. I hope the affluent, somewhat entitled parents of Thurgood Marshall Elementary "get" that my wife and most, if not all of her colleagues, would take a bullet for any of their children if it came down to the worst.

August 8, 2012

230.0!!! Into the next set of "tens" on the scale!

August 6, 2012

231.8

August 1

233.8

Sunday at the Gym

My wife had suggested that on weekends, I walk over to the gym and back, to get a little extra workout in. Total distance there and back is about 1-1/2 miles, so it's not a bad little stroll. I tried it and it was great! Gotta go early in the morning though-as hot as it's been lately, the walk home can get pretty warm and sweaty.

I'm Just Sayin'

Saturday I had a great walk along the river front, and made one circuit around Mast Park. One of the people running in the park was a young lady of around 30-35. She had the slim build of an avid runner. I noticed that she was wearing a brace on both knees. That got me thinking-if you need a brace on both knees, could that be your body telling you that maybe it's time to take up another activity besides running (on a concrete sidewalk no less)?

Grace

Naturally my wife was curious about what I was doing in class, so one night when I came home she asked me to show her some of what we did. We'd worked on a form called Parting the Wild Horse's Mane (everything in Tai Chi has a name), so I showed her a little of what we'd done. Her first comment was, "you're so graceful."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. NO ONE has EVER said that to me in my entire life, with regard to any kind of movement or physical activity. It's just not part of my reality or how I see myself.

Part of this perception comes from being clumsy and awkward at sports and such when I was a child, and part of it comes from my feelings about my size (this is my size, not my weight; important distinction, as we'll see in a moment).

Growing up, my size was always associated with clumsiness and awkwardness-grace never entered into the picture. Indeed, I was the antithesis of grace in some people's eyes. Although never overweight as a child, I rarely got much positive feedback on my height, my reach, or the size of my hands and feet. Big definitely didn't mean graceful, and as a boy it didn't mean masculine, imposing, or powerful.

Big meant clumsy.
Big meant try not to break anything.
Big meant get your big feet out of the way, or don't take so many potato chips in your big mitts.

So, hearing my wife describe me as "graceful" released a lot of that, and opened up some new avenues of thought. If I can be graceful, I need not fear being powerful, strong, or imposing, because I really can control all of that. I will not break anything, or hurt anyone (unless I need to).

Wow, that made me feel good. Makes me want to practice every day.

Tai Chi

I got going on my Tai Chi classes just before the July 4th holiday. I've never been to a martial arts school of any kind before, so it was a new experience for me in many ways. I had some reservations about the facility at first; it's clean but rather small so sometimes we do our practice outside. But the more classes I attended, the better I liked the school, the instructors, and the other students. I signed up for classes and a monthly lesson through the end of the year; I'll decide from there whether I want to continue.

July 11th

236.4

The Starting Line

I'm feeling a new resolve in my quest for fitness. Inspired by a friend I am renewing my efforts to eat better, take better care of myself, and be more active. So, periodically I will post my weight and other stats, as a marker of my progress. I began weighing myself regularly again on July 4th (I know, not the best thing to start on a holiday when you'll probably eat a lot, but hey, I was ready to start!) So, as of July 4th - 237.4.

The Idea

My thoughts, opinions, experiences, and general dissertation on my quest to get in shape and stay in shape. Some of this will spill over into discussion about self-image, body image, personality and presence, and sometimes I'll throw in something completely unrelated, just for fun.