Tag: vegan athlete

always searching

With each passing day, it becomes more clear to me that the 40-year game of addiction whack-a-mole I’ve been playing isn’t about substance at all so much as it’s about pacification. Pacification. I almost wrote ‘nurturing’ in place of that word, but it would have been in error.

I’ve not known what I needed or how to go about getting it so I’ve put a metaphorical soother in my mouth to hold back any crying I might have done (but let’s face it, crying still happened) in some half-hearted attempt to appear strong or attractive or badass, all of which worked. For a while, anyway. If these things didn’t work, then we wouldn’t use them as coping mechanisms.

That’s why drugs, sex, money, alcohol, gambling, food, jumping out of airplanes, and social media are such a problem – they work and they are powerful… that is, they work until they don’t, in which case not only do you have to go back to solving the problem and dealing with your newfound (powerful) addiction, which is hard – much easier to spin the ‘wheel of misfortune’ and find something else to; yes, pacify.

That’s what I’ve been doing since I was a kid.

That’s also why junkies & fuck-ups get really into Christianity, or body building, or 12-step programs, or workaholism, or become gym rats and health freaks who find themselves running low on bare skin with which to tattoo something meaningful – this is feeling self referential now, I’d better watch it – and these things will work, too, especially if you don’t want to do the work. Nobody is going to go up to a well dressed man in a $700 suit driving an Acura and tell him he’s clearly got a problem, nor does an Olympic gold medal bring about an intervention, because these things are great achievements… as though great achievements and successes couldn’t be the result of an addiction, or at very least a fixation.

Don’t misread me, though – I’m not saying that the desire to be successful or the desire to be the best at something is unhealthy. Goals are healthy. Achieving them is fantastic. However, these accolades can serve to mask a deeper problem… such as Elon Musk’s fixation on putting people on Mars as an effort to escape his relationship with his own father, or Donald Trump’s fraudulent aspirations for success, for the same reason.

I couldn’t blatantly say something like that anymore than I could say that everyone who does intermittent fasting has an eating disorder. It’s simply not true, though intermittent fasting is an excellent way to mask an eating disorder.

I’ve been told somewhere along the path that I should not become too good at the wrong thing, because the success will keep me unhappy for the rest of my life. As much as I have done that in my professional life, it means something different now.

Now, I’m gonna keep running, and keep playing music, and keep working on cars, and keep getting tattoos, because… fuck you I won’t do what you tell me – possibly forever – but these things have to; for me, anyway, operate in conjunction with doing the brain work, and the soul work, as well as the body work.

It all has to be in alignment or the machine doesn’t run right.

laughable

Certain recent global pandemics that shall remain nameless shook things up a lot. If an understatement exists, surely it was the one I just made.

Mixed into the barrage of things we all had to roll with whether we liked it or not; were a couple things that a good number of people I’ve talked to recently actually miss about the inappropriately termed ‘lock-down’ time. The most consistently cited was the slower pace of daily life.

<sarcasm> y’think??? </sarcasm>

I’ll start by quickly assessing and then pushing aside the fact that it wasn’t actually the slower pace of the pandemic that appealed to us, but rather that the break-neck speed of e-commerce and the never-sleeping algorithm forever parting us with our money in exchange for temporary amusements is not a pace that the human body was ever designed to endure, nor was our collectively exhausted brain – and now that the aforementioned break-neck speed has resumed, a great number of people are resounding in wonderful rebellious chorus: fuck this.

I don’t remember the exact point at which I stumbled across a meme informing me that “it’s ok to stop mainlining cable news” and my respect for meme-culture, if that is indeed a thing, shifted.

Between my conscious decision to stop watching new news; having determined that anything truly important will be brought to my attention either directly or indirectly, and the more recent advent of news outlets being forbidden from posting directly to Facebook (because Facebook refused to pay them for their stories being shared… which is another fun discussion for another day), I am happy to say that the fear machine, in my world, has been cut off at the knees.

As a member of the adult, caucasian male demographic in North America in 2023, and a fervent self-analyzer, I can assure you that most of our decision making is based in one thing: Fear. It’s for this reason that I’m elated to have these reach of these news outlets curtailed significantly, even if it means they might sink to some desperate depths in order to retain Canadian readership.

My observation is that in order to unite any number of people is through connection on a common emotional level. It’s spiritual in nature, because it’s subtle and personal. On a small and positive scale, it’s what unites young couples – the sharing of stories and laughing together; laughing of course being one of the few expressions of self that is socially acceptable. The sharing of tears has a similar effect, but it more acceptable in settings such as bible studies and addiction recovery meetings, or occasionally in a movie theatre where Schindler’s List of some similarly heartbreaking film is being watched, as it’s heartbreak that crosses all personal boundaries. The imagination is triggered in most cases and a relatable experience may come to mind, cascading the emotion – which is why when you’re laughing, the cracking of another joke can make you laugh harder, even if it wasn’t as funny. A shared sadness can have a similar effect, but generally speaking people find these feelings uncomfortable, and avoid these scenarios.

The same emotional connection is made when a feeling of fear is shared, except without the obvious jubilation that a shared laugh brings about. Fear is more humbling and subduing because of it’s negative nature, so when fear is broadcast and shared, it has a sweeping effect as it; too, triggers the imagination and causes a cascade of negative emotion. What is even more problematic about fear is that we as humans tend to fixate on it.

I’ve heard this described as an evolutionary trait, wherein once upon a time, our primitive ancestors might be foraging for food miss something helpful and nourishing such as a fruit tree because they were more concerned with the presence of snakes lurking in the grass. Seeing the snake would be more important to survival than eating an apple or a pear in that moment, so attention to the negative is crucial in times of stress for this generation of ancestors. Eons later, we live under constant stress and anxiety to the point of physical fatigue… but this age-old trait is apparently why we have such trouble looking away from car accidents, too.

So, to have the presence of this fear reduced dramatically will ideally make more room for the sharing of laughter and tears, and connecting with each other on an emotional and spiritual level – the kind of connection we were truly missing through the pandemic (and I would argue much further back than that). Meaningful connection through the sharing of stories, and the spoken word is absolutely crucial to our existence as a species and as a group of individuals, because we quite honestly share more commonality than difference.

It’s fear that serves to categorize and label us. Not love.

I recently drove between opposing sides of an issue – a protest and a counter-protest, held on opposite sides of the street on my route to work. It was big, and people were still just arriving at the time I was passing through. Upon exiting the protest/counter-protest gauntlet, I came to witness a couple walking up to a cross-walk wearing traditional religious garb small-talking with a couple of; and I use the term lovingly, blue-haired freaks. It was fairly clear that both couplets were destined for opposite sides of the street to address the issue at hand, but they appeared to be walking together, and being cordial and polite despite the impending discord.

It made me think about both sides of the issue, and how quickly political and societal issues would be resolved if each side saw the other side for who they are: people… doing their best.

be better, do better

If I want to learn a skill, whatever it may be – Yoga, Bass Guitar, Brazilian Jujitsu, whatever you like – the methodology of improvement is almost mathematic:
Desire to learn + Knowledgeable Instructor + Time = Improvement
There are other factors such as inspiration and discipline, of course, but the reality of the situation is that you can do whatever you want. It’s not until we start applying labels to things that we start building a resistance movement against our own progress, and start telling ourselves that we’re too tall, too short, too fat, too slow, and so forth, that we start talking ourselves out things.

My favorite; and by favorite I mean least favorite, is “it’s hard.”
Of course it’s hard.
Anything worth doing is hard, and is worth doing well. Once we truly embrace that truth, we can begin to understand that we’re probably not going to master a skill immediately after starting. But can your ego handle it?

Although there’s a need to ‘toughen up’ in regards to these things, it should be stated that we should be toughening up toward our own internal resistance and we often toughen up to everything except for that resistance. If anything we punish ourselves for trying in the first place, when it’s through trial and error that we really learn the ropes of what we’re doing, but love and kindness are the only things that can permeate the thick veneer that protects the inner child. As a child; or as a childish man, I tend to reject this notion in an effort to protect the ego.

Adversity breeds character.
Mood follows action.

So; too, are matters of the mind, heart & soul.
It’s not a stretch to say that we’re all doing our best. Our ego may take issue with the level at which others are handling things, but we may never rise to the same level as others because our standards are as different as our levels of pain. So yes, we are all doing our best – and as I reconcile that with whatever heated emotion I might be feeling at any given time, there comes a different level of respect and tolerance for those around us.

So while we’re taking it easy on ourselves, we should also take it easy on each other. When the labels we use to divide each other (and ourselves) get stripped away, and there is no ‘too fat’ or ‘too thin’ or ‘too tall’ or any number of other expletives we’ve come up with to label one another, we might actually start to see ourselves in each other.

What I’m talking about is spiritual connection.
Again, I believe we feel the need ‘toughen up’ because it is in us to do so, but we toughen up towards each other when we should be toughening up to our own ego… to our resistance to vulnerability. Because vulnerability is hard.

And again… Of course it’s hard.
Anything worth doing is hard, and is worth doing well.
Once we truly embrace that truth, we can begin to understand that we’re probably not going to master a skill immediately after starting. But can your ego handle it?

the price of admission

“The first step; a frequently cited trope, is admitting you have a problem…”

On September 9th, 2023, I accomplished a personal first. I attended a gathering of people who I am simultaneously happy to see, and wish I didn’t have to see; however, we’re united by a common struggle.

The first step; a frequently cited trope, is admitting you have a problem, and although walking through the door of my first 12-Step meeting is an experience that echoes off the walls of my subconscious like some clanging gong – abrupt, and disarming, I have to say that the impetus for actually going has been a slow-moving yet still unstoppable growth, like mound of shit built by lazy insects. In essence, It’s taken a long time to get here, but I’ve known I would eventually arrive for some time now.

Yes, I admit I have a problem…

It’s probably the far reaching arm of my ego preventing me from actually putting a name to this problem – I thought I checked my ego at the door, but it still seems to be peering in at me – it’s hard to articulate your propensity for shoveling cookie dough into your mouth with a spoon, or your insatiable love of pop-tarts while attempting to put words together that don’t make you appear completely foolish.

I’m a poetic and a romantic – why can’t I come up with a better word for this problem? Ohhhh… right – it’s because it’s actually not fucking cool… and in this room you’re not fucking cool… and in the presence of these people – these honest and vulnerable and hopeful people, your “out there in the world” coolness factor means precisely nothing. In this room, you are the complete and total embodiment of embarrassment and humility, and you are sitting in a circle with other people who are the same… so no, there’s no fun word for this, so the narrative goes as follows:

Member of the groups: “My name is ___ and I am a(n) ___.”
The rest of the group: “Welcome.”

The “Mad Lib” answer-key version of this is: “Dave” and “I don’t really know, but I know I have a fucked up relationship with food, and I use it to cope with my problems” before I give a coles notes sample of how I inadvertently caused myself an extra 20 minutes of work while doing a home-renovation project and rather than doing the 20 minutes of work, I consumed a couple thousand calories while trapped in some strange, feckless trance – likely for longer than the aforementioned 20 minutes, but in the end I still had to do the extra work I caused myself, so it was a fruitless endeavor.

I’ve transferred my compulsion numerous times in my 41 years of walking around on this planet… but my first fascination was with food, and after I systematically pushed all the bad habits out of my life, I was left with my first love – and the only one I couldn’t truly abstain from: Food. I have other distractions… fitness, my car, music… and they do help me cope with life, but they’re not unmanageable compulsions that have driven me to negotiate terms with a higher power.

I tell my story with a hint of mist in my eyes because I don’t even like remembering it. I’d love to forget it and fill it’s place with music, or art, or some brilliant reflection of what life is supposed to be but instead I have this story – an insignificant blip, and a weak example of why I am really here, but these are strangers and I’m not ready to let them in yet… and when I’m done speaking, I look up from spot on the floor I was staring at – just beyond my left shoe as it cradles my right shoe on the end of my outstretched legs – and rather than seeing judging, laughing faces, I am met with nodding heads and appreciative smiles.

My story ends; as I tell it, in a rather strange place where any other group of people would keep waiting for the resolve, or some calamitous punchline, is instantly relatable in this room. I don’t just feel seen, I feel understood.

As an aside, Today marks 1 calendar year since my last alcoholic drink. I can’t say I was ever counting the days, but I will say this: You can do whatever you want to do, and if it helps you to align yourself with your purpose then you should probably start now if you haven’t already.

Much love.

the most happy

“The revelation hasn’t been “you were happier when you were leaner” because I know that’s superficial bullshit. The truth of the matter is that challenging myself physically brings joy into my life.”

When were you the most happy with your appearance? Chances are decent that you didn’t know it at the time.

I suffer from a bit of body dysmorphia. That’s obviously a self diagnosis, and I’m inclined to downplay it a bit because I’m fairly certain that most of us have a touch of it. I recently stumbled across some old shirtless pictures of myself – no, not the old fat guy pictures, the ones from last year and the year before when I was training for triathlon and rolled that training into a half-marathon run.

What I saw at that time was problematic flab, negligible as it was.
What I see now is that my transformation was truly incredible. Needless to say I’m no longer in that kind of shape, but I can honestly say I’m not far off. I’m less than 15 lbs heavier now, and I am that way because of how hard I was training at the time and I’m certain that a bunch of that weight is muscle. Ultimately the difference between 192 lbs and 180 lbs is not much.

So I opted to dig into what kind of gym efforts I was doing at those times, and how much I was eating, what my protein sources were – everything. I changed my diet a while back to see what would happen, and shortly thereafter some heavy emotional stuff came my way that knocked me off course a bit. I began training less, and with less intensity because my attention was needed elsewhere, and I began eating less because I wasn’t training as hard… so I’m elated to say that my weight hasn’t fluctuated due to poor diet – it’s holding steady, really… but not at a place I would like it to hold steady, necessarily.

All in all, I’m feeling the pull back toward my disciplined morning practice, my purpose-driven workout regime and my optimized diet, and have been making great strides in pursuit of that.

The revelation hasn’t been “you were happier when you were leaner” because I know that’s superficial bullshit. The truth of the matter is that challenging myself physically brings joy into my life. I would like to reclaim that. The thing I see in the mirror now that I don’t like isn’t just pudge… it’s the reflection someone who knows he can do more.

What I’ve learned about happiness is this: Accomplishing tasks will not make you happy. Whatever your level of happiness was when you took on the challenge will be the same after you accomplish the task. You have to be happy where you are if you want to be happy where you’re going.

So I know fine-tuning my body won’t make me happy.
Trying my best, and living with purpose, though… that’s another thing.

The joy you have at the top of the mountain is the joy you bring with you.

on the train

I have not been training as hard this summer as last summer… and it took a while, but I’m fine with it. This summer I worked on my car, painted a couple rooms in my house, and took on various construction projects at home… not to mention a new job and a few gigs… songwriting… some family things… and yes, even some training.

Completing a good number of things things I’ve done have brought about a sense of accomplishment, but that sense of accomplishment is fleeting. I recently heard an interview with Light Watkins wherein he states that the level of happiness you are feeling right now is the same level you will feel after completing a task – and it resonated with me very clearly because I know exactly what that means. To tackle a problem is great – but another problem will soon obstruct you, and the only way you can truly increase your happiness is to pursue your purpose.

So yes, it was a great summer, but I am back on the training train – and if I’m completely honest, part of why I am okay with not training so hard through the summer is because I am back to it now, to the degree that brings me the most joy.

That’s not to say that training is my purpose, but training does bring about an alignment of values – of heart, soul, and mind – and conditions me to be at my best physical shape when I am realizing my purpose. My actual purpose is one of service in the arts, but if I am polluted and out of shape, I will inevitably short-change the recipients of that service, be it at my day job or in my songwriting and performance career.

All in all, It feels so good to have reclaimed my routine of endurance, even if it has cost me part of my evening routine by way of an early bedtime… sorta. (it will once the lack of sleep catches up with me).

I have a full life, with great hobbies and great people in my life – but if I am not at my best, then I cannot give my best, and nobody wants the fractional version of me.

establishment

“Over 100 years ago, someone astutely said “Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.” That quote has been attributed to a great number of people throughout modern history and although some of them likely said it, they likely heard it elsewhere first.”

Over 100 years ago, someone astutely said “Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.” That quote has been attributed to a great number of people throughout modern history and although some of them likely said it, they likely heard it elsewhere first. It’s also been said that “Opportunity is often delivered in a fog of uncertainty” and while nobody seems to know where that came from either, both are true more often than not.

These days, as members of my inner circle try to build back trust through willpower and integrity, it’s not lost on me that if it’s trust they’re after, then it’s trust that must be issued.

When I was young & stupid, I attempted to hide a report card or two in an effort to delay the wrath of my parents. The result was poor, and I was ultimately told that I could no longer be trusted to do something as menial as take the trash out, let alone babysit a sibling or go to a movie – because who’s to say whether or not I was actually doing those things? I had broken a parent’s trust and when I inquired as to how I might repair the damage, I was told: “that’s up to you.”

I resented it then and I think it’s utter bullshit now.

I now find myself on the other side of that conversation with someone, I am compelled to furnish them with the opportunity to do better. We’ll start small, or course, but I’m past the point of feeling the need to punish this person and well into the territory of “loosening the leash” as it were. Without the opportunity to prove trust, how can more trust be gained?

As far as I can see, it can’t.

I fully understand that if I were to break the trust of my employer, I would be dismissed and replaced. That’s the real world, hard lessons that adults have to learn sometimes – except I am not this person’s employer. I want to see this person succeed and be a gracious human, and if I cannot be one, I can not expect anyone else to be one either.

Once that’s acknowledged, then a standard must be set, and it must be set by me, and I must be the example. Without the opportunity for redemption, there’s no purpose in carrying on… that’s why we check in on our people…

… even the ones who hurt us.