Another Thought

The cold that cleanses, the wind, which etches its freedom on my soul.

The Other Side of Blue

Been feeling sad lately and I don't think I'm alone. Seems like waves of melancholia are passing over and through us. I see it in the faces of the people I pass on the street, as they sit on the subway or wait in line. It's the time of year, it's the weather, it's post-resolution realities, it's the aftermath of the joy and excitement from a change in government, it's many things. I believe a large part of it is that we undergo growth more this time of year than any other. Most of us have taken a good look at ourselves over the holidays, they always seem to bring a reflective mood, and are now setting out on some course of action, some refashioning of ourselves into a newer, stronger persona.

They say sorrow is the Spirit carving space into your soul so you can have more room for love. I buy that. Being inconsolable for a bit is a necessary task much like cleaning out the closet - reorganizing and refolding. We need these sad times. They are what brand the acts of change we strive to undertake with earnestness. Without sorrow we would not have the feeling of "hey, I've been down but now I'm getting back up on my feet". There would be no sense of accomplishment, no momentum to propel us as we journey. It's a needed perspective pure and simple. Sadness is an absolution, a necessary mourning for the changes we are about to undergo. The spring will bring a different you and this is simply a way of honoring those habits and rituals you will leave behind.

The key though is to know when you've had enough. Being down can be somewhat addictive. It's a place where you don't have to take action, where you don't feel as responsible for invigorating your life and implementing events that you want and desire. It's a place where you can blow things off easily and that makes it seductive. Coming out of sorrow is like coming off of a fast, there are right ways and wrong ways. The wrong way is to bounce in and out, taking tepid steps and dragging it on long past the point of its purpose, making it a crutch that you lean on when things get a little tough. The wrong way is to not to be aware and acknowledge that you're ending a period of temperamental discomfort. Sort of just burying everything and becoming super cheerful to all around you. Melancholy is a useful, necessary tool for our emotional enlightenment, we should honor it as such.

The right way is really up to you. It's certainly a very individual thing but be assured within you lies the proper manner and methodology for spiritual growth after a period of such reflection. You just have to find it, as you've probably instinctively found it in the past. I have a whole toolbox full of things that I use. In this period I'll reach in and try different devices to see what works at any particular moment and sets me on the right path.

There's a line a friend said to me many years ago. "You're the kind of guy who, if he was shot down deep within enemy territory, would not only make his way back to friendly lines but leave behind a string of franchises on the way out". Twenty-plus years later I can still pull up that conversation in my mind's vision and it still brings a smile to my face. This is a tool.

I reach for the paints or writing or something creative - you should too. Right now I've fired up the piano and I've been trying wrap my head around some blues. I am so rusty but I've managed to lay down the beginnings of a new song. I don't really know how it goes yet but it includes the line - "Your teeth don't fit that bite mark no more". It may become a classic someday. Another tool. Figure out how to make yourself smile and the Spirit will know where to take you.

So, to wrap things up, it's ok to be sad, particularly this time of year. In fact, it's almost mandatory, you've got to make way for the new. However, when you're ready to start growing, then take off, like a shoot out of the soil and don't look back and don't forget. Go as high and as wide as you are able, soak up the sunlight, reach deep into the earth, prosper and flourish. Become everything you can in the season of You.

The Word is Propitious

It is not the unknown we should fear, rather it is the small acts of indecision that whittle away our self confidence.

The Gentle Way

I was out to dinner the other night with a friend of mine. We were talking about teaching yoga. She's well on the path to becoming a brilliant yoga teacher. Some small tweaks here and there and a bit of seasoning and she will grow into a fine instructor and an even more compassionate caregiver. She asked me about my goals, whether I would continue to advance my studies and teach someday. I am and will I'm sure but I had to tell her that I'm not ready to teach yet. Not simply because I'm still new at this yoga thing with only a couple of years under my belt but also because the role of teacher to me is sacred and it requires an intense period of self study before I can honestly commit to this intention.

Thinking about this took me back many years to one of the first lessons I learned about teaching. When I was young, so very young and so very foolish, I entered the military. I was full of Hemingway and Kipling and thought how romantic it was to be a soldier seeking adventure in foreign countries. This was before these Gulf wars, at a time when it was generally smaller teams that went into the mountains and jungles and performed various tactical maneuvers. I became very good at what I did and eventually found myself in charge of a small unit training for eclectic sorts of combat missions. While on an exercise I made a decision that ended in the death of one of my men, not a bad decision, just the wrong one. It struck me harder than most and it became clear to me that I was not meant to be a soldier, I could not accept this kind of responsibility and still function, still be human, so I left the military.

I drifted then for a while, west and south, heading for the Mexican border. Drinking a good deal and not caring about much. I wanted to forget the past and I knew, instinctively, that if I crossed the border into Mexico I wasn't coming back. I found myself in Tucson and in a bar one night this woman picked me up and took me home. I was too drunk and ended up passing out on her couch. The next morning she cooked me breakfast and we spent the day talking. She had a spare bedroom and I moved in, instead of lovers we became friends.

Bear with me now, this is where the story begins. She had recently joined a judo club, a dojo, to get in shape and she invited me to attend one night. We went to a small concrete building with no windows in an industrial park on the edge of the desert. I'd never done martial arts before but wasn't too worried. I was very well trained by the military in hand to hand combat, in great shape, and knew I could probably handle anybody in there. Such is the cockiness of youth. Well I entered and there was this class being taught by an old man, I say old, thinking he looked ancient, the difference between twenty-something and sixty-something being far greater then than it seems now, now that I'm on the far side. He welcomed me, got me dressed in a Gi which is the formal attire of one who practices Judo and took me out to the middle of the mats. Then he said, let's spar, you try and throw me.

I was thinking, oh no, I'm going to hurt this guy and everybody's going to be upset with me. So I went in easy, a quick grab and push. The next thing I knew I'm on my back and he's bending over me smiling, asking if I'm ok. I was, a little surprised, the ego a little bruised, but I got back up and went at him again with more intensity and vigor. Again he threw me, and again, and again. That night he threw me many, many times until I was exhausted. He never broke a sweat and I never once seriously got him off balance.

I found out later that he was one of the first westerners ever taught the art of Judo, one of the first to open a place of practice in the United States. That he was a gold medalist in the Pan American games in his youth, five times in a row. This was the preeminent competition in the world of Judo in this hemisphere before it was accepted into the Olympics. That he was a renowned Judoka, meaning one who practices Judo and follows it precepts, and people would come from around the globe to study with him, at this little concrete hut in the middle of the desert. He held advanced degrees in Judo, Karate and Kendo, a master in each field.

So I went back and started to learn. He wouldn't teach me any throws for the first months. He insisted before I threw I had to learn how to fall. So I spent my initial days there letting everybody in the dojo throw me and learning how take a fall. Everyone threw me - I was thrown by white belts, by women, by children. My task was to accept the throw and master the fall and then jump right back up and let them throw me again. At the end of some practices he would take me in the corner and he would throw me, hard, fast with no mercy, just a little smile on his face as he waited for me to get up over and over. I think he expected me to leave after the first few weeks and I almost did, several times, but I stayed and eventually learned how to throw and fight in the judo style. I stayed for many years and he and his wife, also a black belt in Judo, helped me grow towards who I am today.

I became a good fighter and quickly got my brown belt. Eventually I decided it was time for me to attain a black belt and I told my Sensei this. Sensei is the Japanese term for teacher, literally meaning "one who is born ahead". This was how everyone addressed him, even his wife, as Sensei. He laughed and said no, I wasn't ready. I knew Judo, knew the moves and the terminology as well as any black belt but a black belt is a teacher and I was still a fighter.

I fell in love with Judo, mastering it, and over the years the relationship between Sensei and I grew but I always remained a brown belt even as those who started after me garnered their black belt. I was so full of ego back then, so full of myself. Sensei, bless him, didn't give up on me. He was determined to teach me what I really needed to learn. I was still wild, just in my twenties. I had gotten a job and was going to college, doing quite well but I had a streak in me of pure selfishness and I wasn't above hurting people to get what I wanted.

One day he came up to me and said, I'd like you to come work with me, help me in my garden. This was something I didn't want to do. I had a full time job, carried 18 credits at the university, and practiced judo or danced whenever I could and generally slept only a couple of hours a night. Giving up what little free time I had to help him out on weekends was not high on the list of things I had planned. Still, I felt I owed him a great deal for what he had taught me over the years and I began to show up Saturday mornings to help him tend his cactus garden.

Now he had this fantastic garden that was laid out in the Japanese style of zen formation with exotic cacti and small gravel gently raked in various patterns. People would bring him cacti as gifts from terrain around the world and he would place them in his backyard just right. It looked wondrous but taking care of it was a nightmare. I would spend four to five hours there, weeding, trimming, raking and leave bleeding, my skin punctured in multiple places, cursing under my breath, swearing that I'm never coming back. But I always did.

He never said much to me, a sentence or two pointing out what needed to be done. I had thought that I was going to be introduced to some great secrets here, he had studied with Masters and was a Master himself. Yet there were no profound lessons, no deep philosophical treatises on the meaning of life or the inner way of Bushido. We didn't really have conversations, we just worked side by side in silence most of the time.

He was a simple man and he reveled in the non complex ways of life. He said as few words as necessary to convey a point and then he left me alone to figure things out. He could see how frustrated I got sometimes, working in temperatures over 100 degrees, how angry I became when I studied the welts on my arm from brushing against some poisonous plant. He knew that I hated coming to his garden and toiling in the hot sun. But he requested that I return each week and because he was my Sensei, I complied.

This went on for several years until I graduated from the university and felt, for the first time in a long while, home calling to me. I'm a New Englander by nature and this is always where I will feel most comfortable. Before I left we talked about my journey with him and reflected on our time together. It hit me at some point as we reminisced that I had changed drastically. It had never occurred to me to compare myself to who I was when I first arrived in Tucson but he pointed out poignantly what he had seen as I had grown.

His observations cut me like a scalpel, not in a bad way but deep and clean, exposing truths about myself that I had not admitted. I left Tucson a man, having arrived a boy. I could now smile at adversity rather than running from it. I was someone who could face uncomfortable, demanding situations and prevail with calmness and equanimity. A ship built for sailing cross deep waters, far from shore.

He had given me a profound gift and enlightened me to the first lesson of being a great teacher. I learned that in actuality, it is the student who teaches themselves. A teacher can really only guide and support. Honest mentoring provides a point of stability not a dominance of will. The gifted teacher will give their charges room to discover and blossom on their own yet not be afraid to demand growth when necessary. This is a fine balance that many who claim to teach cannot comprehend.

A true teacher is only a guidepost and not the goal. A true teacher recognizes the traps that the ego can fall into. Many would come to our dojo just to honor Sensei because of his fame, practice at his feet so to speak. He would humor them and then send them away after a time. Whenever I fell into this silly kind of thinking he would point to the nastiest corner of the garden and say - go in there and clean things up. My adulation would quickly dissipate, this was his intent. A true teacher understands the difference between respect and servility and moves promptly to prevent the latter.

In the end, in the last days as I was leaving I thought about taking the test to acquire a black belt, then I realized, no, it was only a color. I had all I needed.

It is the Heart

In all matters of import, it is the heart that must lead the way. In truth, the mind and body will follow and the search for honesty echo as a chorus to your days. Your passion is the key to opening doors.

Only the Curious Have Something to Find

They say that the superstitions of a child contain the wisdom of the universe. The magical insight that all things are possible when approached with the innocence of belief. Today I was walking along the waterfront, sort of mulling over this past year. I was reflecting on the interactions I'd had with various people and one person in particular. This was someone I'd had trouble communicating with. We never quite got our act together. She tended to leave quotes scattered about as if they were clues to her inner working. And me, I played into it, treating it like it was some sort of game, where, if you guessed the riddle or said the magic word, a prize would drop down from the ceiling and an announcer would suddenly boom out - "Congratulations, you are now going to live happily ever after".

Some of the passages I understood but many were paradoxical in meaning or could be applied across multiple intents. So I was walking along dwelling on a particular quote and the circumstances around it, mostly saying to myself, ok, you've got stop over-thinking about this kind of stuff and really, just move on, when I hear the chorus of a song coming from the outdoor speakers of a cafe I was passing by. The last line in the chorus, literally, is the quote I'm thinking about - "Only the curious have something to find". I kid you not.

How strange is that? Turns out the words I was pondering are from a song by a band called Nickel Creek. Playing at that same moment as I was walking by. The universe is a funny place. Well this took me in a whole different direction.

One of my favorite phrases is from a cult movie called Repo Man. It goes like this

"They don't realize that there's this, like, lattice o' coincidence that lays on top o' everything."

Personally I think this is brilliant just for the juxtaposition of lattice and coincidence. Lattice pertaining to structure and coincidence signifying randomness - structured randomness - the boy physicist in me quivers in delight at this mental maelstrom. Wish I'd written this. More importantly, I believe there's a good deal of truth here.

I tread lightly now, as this is the house of belief. We each have different dwellings but in some fashion they all provide shelter for the soul with the requisite access and egress. We all have rules whether we're conscious of it or not, of the way the universe works. My rules may be different from yours, but neither are right or wrong. Indeed, your rules are, in some fashion, your definition of what the universe is and inherently influence how you perceive events.

I believe, if you'll bear with me, two distinct things. One is that the universe encompasses a guiding force. I'm not sure about the mechanism or the reason but I believe deeply that the universe is a conduit of sacred design in some fashion for all of us. I haven't committed yet to the concept of a higher being or even a greater intelligence, no, I actually believe the word intelligence is not profound enough to describe the process that forges our being. It's more like cosmic river banks. Within these corporeal confines we flow and interact. In our everyday world it is gravity and motion, the basic physics of space and time, that determine the heft and hew of a river's course. In terms of our souls intertwined with fate, these forces, metaphysical in nature, are love and fear, hope and desire and many, many more shapers of our essence, our being. And much like the proverbial river, there are spiritual embankments that guide us while, in turn, it is our actions and interactions that cut anew shoreline, sending us in directions unforeseen.

My second belief pertains to what happened to me today. I believe that the universe is in constant contact with us, which is obvious but not so clear. Further, I think that the universe is continuously trying to communicate with us. Strange as it may seem I trust that it (I know, a little weird here), wants to try to explain itself and more importantly, give us a greater say in the ways things are flowing. I truly feel that one of our reasons for existence, why we cycle through this dance again and again, is to eventually marry our consciousness with this flow and contribute to the guiding nature that is this river.

Stay with me now. Assuming that this is the case, then I propose that the universe has provided us with the greatest gift told. It answers all our questions, all of them, all of the time. What I'm saying is that any and all responses to any question or request we can think of already exists and is, at this moment, fully incorporated into the reality around us. We have all we need to find any truth, sitting right in front of us. The only constraint is in our ability to interpret what the universe is saying, or if I may conjecture further: the only real limitation is our capability to pay attention. Coincidence, superstition, the acts that occur seemingly at random moments should not necessarily be chalked up to the turn of the card, á la Einstein's famous quote, "God does not play dice with the universe".

Often it is the Greater Voice and we should pay heed. However, like the mythological benefactions of ancient Greek gods, interpretation is the dilemma. I can say with certainty, "this means something" but what, what exactly does it mean? Here lies the enigma, the quest for answers. Where is the key that unlocks understanding and offers sustenance for our oft bewildered minds.

I'm betting that it exists within our own being. It is held in the experiences of our life, our past. It is our own self awareness, the steps that define our journey. At that moment of strange attractors, the universe is saying stop, look deep inside, and voilà, another opportunity to study and find reason and purpose based on who we are and who we want to be.

The augurist is indeed a caretaker of the heart.

Until One Is Committed

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness."

This is is the beginning of one my favorite quotes. It is often misattributed to the German poet Goethe. It was actually penned by Scottish climber, W.H. Murray while tackling the peaks in the Himalayas. The last line in the full quote is from Goethe's Faust, hence the misconception. I have a tattered poster of this from my youth that I unfailingly tack up to a wall or refrigerator wherever I may land. It's always puzzled and enticed me, this concept of commitment.

A friend called me brave the other day for some silly reason and my response was that it's only bravery if you understand the danger, otherwise it's just foolishness. I feel much the same way about commitment. It entails a process that is fraught with risk of failure and causes you to reconsider often. If it's easy, comes naturally to you, means little, then I don't consider it a commitment. A commitment has a goal, a destination and the process of fulfilling that quest is, in truth, an act of changing yourself.

A commitment is a journey.

It's not about picking a location, making an itinerary, buying tickets. At this point you can always change your mind, this is just planning. No, it's when you have your butt planted on the plane and the engines are revving for take off, it's when you wake up in a strange room in a new land with sounds and smells tickling your sense of discovery. It's when you look around and realize that hey, I am an adventurer and I'm gathering new and wondrous experiences - here is my growing edge. It takes you to a unique place. It can be as small as losing ten pounds or as momentous as joining in marriage.

A commitment is a journey.

It has a beginning, it has a middle and it has an end. There are high points and low points. You have the opportunity to turn back, quit. It's an undertaking that forces you to take stock of yourself. Who am I, what do I really want, what have I signed up for? It's the emotional turmoil that lends weight to this endeavor, your desire is the fuel, your will the craft that moves you through space and time. This is the magic of commitment, it means that every step along this path contributes to the sculpture that will become a new you.

A commitment is a journey.

Some commitments are transient and relatively benign, a respite from chocolate or an alcohol-less interlude, an opportunity for the body to recover and realign. Some more important, the determination towards health, the intent to foster a relationship. These are deep commitments, life changing campaigns that force you to focus inward and outward, to reevaluate how you relate to that which is important to you. Like any odyssey, it's not only about yourself, it's also the people you meet along the way, your supporters and detractors. It's how you interact with them, allowing them to foster and sustain you or drag you down. The trek is never alone, no mountain ever climbed without a team.

A commitment is a journey.

And in the end, rest, and the contentment of having wandered far yet reaching home once again. The commitment may always remain within but as you internalize it, allowing it to shape itself into a way of life, it becomes as a well worn comforter that you wrap around yourself on a chilly night, tea in your favorite mug, the cat curled in your lap. It is now a part of the sustaining geography of your own locale, familiar routes peopled with old friends and good neighbors. A satisfying confidence that I am a traveler and there is no voyage that I cannot envision undertaking.


Until one is committed
there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back,
always ineffectiveness.
Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation),
there is one elementary truth,
the ignorance of which kills countless ideas
and splendid plans:
that the moment one definitely commits oneself,
then Providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one
that would never otherwise would have occurred.
A whole stream of events issues from the decision,
raising in one's favor all manner
of unforeseen incidents and meetings
and material assistance,
which no man could have dreamt
would come his way.
whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it now.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!

~W.H. Murray

Of Muses and Madness

I believe it was Spinoza, a 17th century philosopher, who told the story of a rock that was picked up and thrown some distance. While this rock was in mid flight it miraculously gained consciousness and looking down at the ground as it sped along said to itself , "Amazing! I can fly!"

I'm reminded of this because it's much the way I feel about writing. It's instinctual and I don't really have a plan or a goal when I sit down and start typing. If I'm lucky there's a line in my head that I put forward and from that the rest flows. Sometimes though I can write for hours and then feel I have to throw it all away. I'm writing this piece because I'm in a self referential mood tonight and this time of year does provoke the change agent in all of us.

Last year I started posting these thoughts and feelings of mine to really only one person. The rest of you are just innocent bystanders. There was someone out there who I wanted to get to know me, see what I had inside. I wanted to share my insights, fears, hopes, dreams, the whole gamut with her. Someone who had become in a fashion, my muse. We could never communicate effectively, she and I, in the real world, our languaging was always overtaken by the walls we created when we got near each other.

I hadn't written in years and it was her light that spurred me on, though in honesty, I don't believe she would have volunteered for the role of muse. She has strong internal conflicts to deal with and my presence was like water on a hot skillet, dancing her emotions in random directions with a sound that demanded attention. In turn, she managed to cut me in many ways. Some muses are gentle sprites, bent over shoulder, whispering into the artist's ear, mine preferred the harshness of promise and denial.

You ask at this point - couldn't you have found a better muse? Well, let's go back to that rock. I'd been emotionally asleep for many years. Right or wrong she woke me up and briefly I was flying - I had wings and the moon was my goal. Sure I could could have wished for the fairy tale but sometimes it's not about the princess being rescued by a knight riding in on a white charger. It's just two people, both sorely flawed and scared at the prospect of someone truly coming to know them. Both deeply fearing the loss of control in a relationship and being disoriented by the incandescence that love sears you with.

I'm able to write this now though because I've found my voice again on the written page and in opening up I've realized that it's not healthy to have a muse that twists your soul. There are more graceful ways to move through life. Perhaps I'll discover another muse or more likely strike out on my own. I enjoy these exercises in rumination and will certainly continue. Thank you for your kind support. I do get a bit wistful thinking that my words, my heart, might have touched her, opened a crack in some wall inside that was erected long ago, but she's never read these stories and probably never will.

Don't Think Twice, It's All Right.

So this is the time of year we give things up. Yup, been planning this for a while haven't we. Gonna throw out the old, clean up the garbage, create a brand spanking new ME or least some token to this effect.

Ever wonder why? Make a plan to lose the weight, turn off the alcohol, stop the puffing - these are body issues. Find a mate, end an unsatisfying relationship, buy a dog - these are heart issues. Save more, earn more, work at a better job - these are lifestyle issues. Why do we have all these issues?

Yeah, it may seem like a big deal but these are only physical undertakings of what you really want to modify. What you're saying when you make these statements is "hey, my view of myself needs to change. I want something different". The heart of the matter is not about making resolutions, it's about lining up your self image with the way you want the world to view you, with the way you want to view yourself. It's about how you look at the mirror and whether or not you're happy with what you see.

I mean, isn't that the ultimate resolution? Saying to yourself: I am becoming who I want to be, who I believe I truly am deep down inside. Every other commitment just folds into this. Be careful about what you tackle if you don't understand this basic issue. Success truly depends on how you align your being with your beliefs. If you don't see yourself as a thinner person then the weight may go but it will come back. If you fear being alone or, on the other hand, are terrified at the prospect of someone really getting to know you, then what does that say about the story you have around who you are in a relationship. Don't repaint the surface when structural work is necessary.

The fact that we constantly seek change for ourselves, yearn for growth in our being, even to the point of making a pro forma yearly ritual out of it leads us to observe something inherent in what it is to be human. We have great faith in our ability to become who we want to be. This is magical. Reach deep inside and savor the gift you have to believe in your own true being. It is not a resolution you seek but a revolution. You are looking to line yourself up with how you want the world to view you and how you view yourself and who you truly are. When these three facets form a linear narrative you become a powerful expression of the here and now and there is nothing you cannot accomplish. The resolutions you choose are ok, they are reminders that you want transformation but until you focus on yourself, your core being, and start that dance, they are but small manifestations of what you want and need. You can change, but make it real change, do the deep work and grow to be everything you want to be - do it now.


"I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right"
~Dylan