Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
At the Lake
It is Memorial Day weekend and Cyndie and I have gone “to the lake.” Those three words contain so much information, for those who know the tradition. For many years, when I was growing up, that phrase meant lake Mille Lacs, the walleye capital of the world. Dad had a fishing cabin on the north side of the lake. I haven’t done much fishing myself as an adult and these days the lake place that is my target is Round Lake in Wisconsin, where the fishing is dwarfed by the pontoon party boats, jet skis, and speed boats pulling skiers, wakeboards, or tubes.
My view upon waking.
It is work weekend at Wildwood. Time for all the families to gather for the first time since Labor Day last fall and be surprised by how much the kids have grown. We clean the beach and bring out all the water toys and lounge chairs, sweep off the tennis courts, and plant some flowers by the lodge. Then sit down to a celebration dinner together that truly kicks off the season of summer events at our vacation home association.
Yesterday, while the peak weekend traffic was lined up to get out of town, I was taking a nap at home and Cyndie was doing a few chores. I’ve changed from my former pattern of scrambling to be one of the first ones on the front edge of that traffic to being one of the last ones. I am finding much joy in the more leisurely pace. We set out on the 3-hour drive just after 8:30 p.m. with the top down in the Mustang and the sky smeared with some lazy looking clouds that provided a nice sky at dusk for a backdrop. There was no evidence of any traffic backup remaining and we sailed along at our own pace pretty much the whole way. At the gas stop we made, the top went back up to keep out the evening chill, but when we finally arrived and climbed out of the car just before midnight, it certainly wasn’t cold.
We are at the lake. Well worth the minor inconvenience of driving up in the dark of night. Everyone here was down for the night when we arrived. We carried our stuff in as quietly as possible, dumped it in piles and joined them in slumber; after I quietly ran through a song that I am trying to memorize with my Baby Taylor guitar. Right before sleep, helps the remembering. Ultimately, the reward is in being able to wake up and already be in this special place. Now it’s time to do some chores.
Perfect Enough
If ever there was a device appropriate for use in treating individuals suffering from extremes of perfectionism, I believe the reel mower admirably qualifies. It’s that time of year again: time to mow lawn grass. Even though there is NHL playoff hockey on television, the grass demands attention. The timing of the effort was precise. I waited just long enough that the strange hot spell that blew in with 40 mile-per-hour gusts of wind and temperatures in the mid 90° (F) range, has moved on and left us in the comfortable 70s, and got it done before the arrival of our early Memorial Day weekend.
As much as I value the aesthetic attraction of cleanly cut grass, my priorities fall more along the lines of scorn for the whole idea of lawn grass. In my mind, it is an environmental atrocity. Since we cut the blades of the plant, it never gets a full opportunity to live a normal life and we need to feed it and water it. It ends up requiring more energy than it is able to give back. That imbalance is exacerbated by the polluting machines that are used to mow.
As much as I would like to claim that my decision to switch to using an entirely human-powered reel mower to do our cutting was all about saving the planet, that would be a deviation from my normal brutal honesty. There was definitely some problem solving behind it, but it had more to do with a resistance toward having to buy and store fuel, and my shortcomings relating to small gas engines. The reel mower was my solution. I fell in love right away. Most of all, I enjoyed the immediate reward of the general quiet of mowing, as compared to using a power mower, and the total silence whenever I just stop pushing. What a pleasant experience the chore becomes in comparison.
But it comes with a sacrifice. It is nearly impossible to cut every last blade. I’ve tried a lot of variations of technique and no matter what I have done, the result continues to best be compared with the look of a bad haircut. However, in an ongoing lesson for my strong tendency toward perfectionism, I find that it pretty much always looks just fine from a distance. Given that I didn’t burn any fossil fuels and got some healthy exercise while doing it, I’d say it looks GREAT! What I’ve come to call, “perfect enough.”
And in a stroke of perfect timing, I was done in time to get in and witness the Penguins’ Evgeni Malkin perform his no-look backhand shot for a goal and for a hat-trick, too! The scene, with his parents in the crowd, teary eyed dad grabbing and kissing his mom’s cheek as the image was displayed on the big screen at the rink, causing the crowd to roar with even more energy, …it was special. More than perfect enough.
The Stuff of Goals
Sometimes it feels easier to try to change those around us than change ourselves. I think the route to affecting change in the ones we love is through changing our own thoughts and behaviors. It can upset the balance of an ingrained, often times dysfunctional pattern, when we do finally change our behaviors, and that new imbalance can be disorienting at first. Difficult, even. But long term success is a reward for those who follow through. We become healthier, and over time, our improving health influences those around us in a positive way. Good things are worth waiting for.
- Of value to someone, or trash?
Since I’ve returned from my trek in Nepal, I’m feeling even more motivated than before to follow through on a goal that I’ve been struggling with for quite a while. I want to distribute possessions that I’ve accumulated but no longer use. Aha! This reminds me of another of those messages that I heard once and it stuck with me ever since. I think it was a friend, Soma, that I met through the Twin Cities FreeNet, who told me she was distributing books from her collection to release the ‘energy’ of them back into the world. I love that thought and have considered it ever since. I like to think about the original author, obviously, composing the information with visions of a future audience receiving value from it, but also of the editors who worked on it, and the printer and binders who handled it. Even the people who cut trees or produced the paper. They all put their energy into creating that book. If it gets read once and then stored on the shelf, that energy becomes stagnant; trapped.
For some reason, I find myself thinking about returning the energy of stuff gathering dust in my house and garage, back into the world, an awful lot more than I find myself doing anything about it. I can consider my writing about it here another small step beyond just thinking about it; my first actual action toward doing something. Well, maybe that’s not entirely accurate. Last fall we signed on with a pest control service and were required to pull all the crap out of the garage to clean and assess the related pest issues. I put my hands on a lot of once perfectly useful stuff that now hasn’t been used in many years. It was a pretty good motivator. I cleaned up old stuff. I took pictures of stuff. I talked about listing it on eBay or Craigslist. Most impressively, I successfully placed what was more accurately identified as ‘trash’ into the proper receptacle; the one that gets dumped into a big truck each week.
Surely of value to someone. Now if I could only remember where I put it.
For a week or two after that, I even made good on a goal of finding something each week that was just taking up space here and deserved a ride in the big truck that comes through our neighborhood every Thursday. But that didn’t provide the feel-good result that is the reward of returning the energy force of those who produce products, back into the world. I want to decide if freecycle.org is a group for me and finish what I started toward posting ads on craigslist.org. I want to possess less stuff and I want to release the stagnant energy back into the world. I want to move from thinking and writing about it, to doing it. A worthy and deserving goal. Am I up to it? Sure. I’ve seen one of my sisters successfully disperse the majority of her accumulated possessions. Although, she had the added incentive of having sold their house to spend retirement living in a 5th-wheel trailer. I know it is possible. I’m just not clear yet on what time table I will finally make it happen for me.
Feel Free to Change
One day, a long time ago, my son –I think it was my son– told me I should drive a different route to work that morning, just for the change. I’ve heard similar suggestions, for a variety of purposes over the years, but for some reason, the suggestion that day is one that stuck with me. I don’t know why some basic messages resonate with me for a lifetime like this, or whether the same kind of thing happens for others. My high school football coach said, “If you can touch it, you can catch it.” –referring to either a defensive or offensive pass catching opportunity. I hear it in my mind as clear as the first time he said it. Other memorable messages that come to mind are of a bit more personal nature. Maybe remembering those kinds of messages is easier to understand. But this is really beside the point regarding change.
Try testing yourself with a variety of simple changes. Fold your arms with the opposite arm from your usual, placed on top. How does that feel? Clap your hands with the opposite hand from your normal habit, in the more superior orientation. Clasp your hands with your fingers intertwined as if you are begging or pleading for something, but slide the position one finger away from your regular grip. That is how easy it is to change. Sure it feels weird, uncomfortable even. But how hard was it to do, all things considered?
It is that easy to change many things in our lives. It is somewhat amazing how quickly we are able to adjust to the point of things not feeling so weird with a little repetition, too. And it is impressive how some basic changes of similar scope, can apply to our mental processes, as well. It all starts with recognition. When we pay attention to how we move and position our body, that awareness can lead to choices to do things differently. The same exercise applies to our thought patterns. When we make an effort to become aware of how we think, about situations, ourselves, or other people, then we have done the most important work toward allowing for opportunity to change. But first, we have to recognize our thinking, and that just may be the hardest part. I believe we are all incredible masters of deluding ourselves. And if we are slightly aware of the fact that we are doing this, we tend to become masters of justifying what we are up to.
We don’t have to continue to think about things in the same way we have for years before. I am doing ongoing work to recognize my negative self-talk and my pessimistic slant on potential situation outcomes. It’s powerful stuff. Another thing I have begun to practice a bit more of late is smiling for no apparent reason. I notice when people around me wear a grim look on their face, and that is not how I wish to appear. I have written here before about putting a smile before happiness and then happiness soon follows. I am all for it, and then when I appear less glum, I can look forward to soon feeling more happy. I’ve faced worse challenges.
Choosing to change, and to change for the better, is worthwhile exercise. One that supports my journey to optimal health, mind, body, and soul. It’s a message that deserves to get stuck in our heads, don’t you think?
Hardships
There is something that Jim Klobuchar shared more than once while I was traveling with him, that has stuck with me enough that I have found myself invoking a version of it myself, 
multiple times lately. It is something that deserves consideration pretty much any time of any day. To paraphrase him, it is simply to put whatever the current topic on my mind is, in the perspective of comparing it to the grand scheme of human hardships. It works pretty well. Unfortunately, I think it is easier for a person other than the one fretting over something, to break the focus by suggesting a comparison to more grievous circumstances. So, when I have been remembering this of late, it has tended to be when someone other than myself deserves to hear it. But that can get irritating. Fast. More for them, than me.
Luckily, I think it is sinking in enough that I just might have acquired it in my arsenal to ultimately use for myself; with a little practice. I’ve faced worse challenges.
Happy Monday.
Lucky Guy
I’m feeling really grateful lately for a lot of things. Mostly, people who have enriched my life. I’m a lucky guy. Lucky to know so many special people with whom I have been able to connect and who join me in discovering the subtleties and nuances of ourselves and the world we are in. I was born into a family of siblings, and to our parents, that have certainly made me who I am today, and they have all always been a step beyond ordinary. As time passes, I am learning more about what that has meant for me and how it contributes to the person I have become.
I am lucky to have Cyndie and my two amazing children. Those of you who know me understand how lucky I am to have Cyndie in my life. And I’ve said many times that my children have taught me more about myself than I wanted to know at the time, but that I now am eternally grateful to have learned; and who better to learn from? I have also been blessed by knowing and becoming a part of Cyndie’s family.
I am lucky to have a friend in Gary, a connection that was somehow made before either of us were aware of it, so at the time we met, we were both sure we already knew each other. Lucky to have discovered Pam on the trek. The whole group I traveled with have me feeling like I’ve won a lottery. Then, looking at the big picture, I’ve won that lottery of wonderful groups over and over. My soccer friends, cycling friends, Brainstorms’ virtual friends, lifelong EP friends, coworkers who became friends. What luck! I sometimes feel I don’t deserve to know people like Eapon and Chris and Andy. Rich, Steve, and Curt, Julie, Rhonda and David, Suzanne, Ann. Thank you, Laura, for allowing me to be a friend. Howard and Judy, Grace, RJ, and Ian in Portugal and Walter in New Zealand. David, Paul, Steve, David, Kevin, Todd, and Eric. Hal. Jodi and Jody. Kym. My other Gary. Murph, JC. Some of you I don’t see so much any more, but you’ve made a lasting impression that keeps you in my thoughts. You continue to contribute to who I am and to my feeling of being a lucky guy for knowing you.
Some folks say you make your own luck. If I have, I would be happy to take credit, but my thinking is, “How lucky is that?” As in, I am so lucky, I even lucked out and made some of my own, without even realizing it!
You are all good people. The named and the still to be named. Did I mention Warren? Or Ed! There are two Eds. And John. There are quite a few Johns. Katie. Judy, Linda, Elliott, Mary and David. Elysa and Julian. In this moment, I am thinking of you all.
I am a lucky guy.
Thank You, Everyone!
Happy May, to you all! In the process of chronicling of my trek, I have reached the rest day at Namche and in honor of that milestone, I am going to claim a rest day from writing. However, I would like to take this opportunity to respond universally to those of you who have posted comments to me here. I really do appreciate them. I haven’t yet fallen into a groove of using the comments section to converse or respond to each one, but it’s not my nature to neglect replying. So, in this post, I would like to say to each of you who have written to me, thank you for your comments. They mean a lot to me!
And thank you to all of you reading along. Writing is only half the fun. Having others read my writing brings the effort full-circle.
Rockin' and writin' in the journal, back in Kathmandu
Interesting Phenomenon
I know that I indicated I would write about the next day in Kathmandu, but bear with me. As much as I would love to pour this all out instantly, I am discovering I can’t do it that fast. Since I arrived home on Wednesday morning, the days have sped by at an incredible pace for me. I have done a fair job of reclaiming my regular routine of diet and sleep pattern and even some of my activities like playing soccer in the morning, but days later I’m still noticing a subtle feeling of being out of whack that can probably be attributed to jet-lag. I am also discovering an interesting level of what feels like shock over the conflicting emotions of intensely missing the people I met and trekked with and the places in Nepal where we shared our adventures, and the onslaught of home comforts of foods and bed and family and friends who are so excited to learn how it went for me. I am so happy to be home, but part of me is resisting it as well, and would like to still be back in the dreamland from which I have just returned.
Yesterday, I drove my car for the first time in three weeks. That was freaky. I had joked many times in Kathmandu that when I got home I was sure that I would beep my horn all the while I was driving. It didn’t happen. I stumbled a bit managing my manual transmission. I found I had difficulty pushing up to the speed limit. I wanted to just move along at a slower pace. I didn’t want to make decisions as quickly as is really required to flow with traffic.
It’s an interesting phenomenon for me, to be experiencing the things I have described, but probably understandable given my limited travel experience and the momentous scope of a trip such as this.
I do want to share one tidbit from the time-line I was on previously. In the early morning hours of sleep during that first overnight in Kathmandu, I had a dream. One that I felt was a real gift and I’m hoping that my siblings might particularly appreciate.
I received a visit from our mother in a dream…
I recall giving her a hand to help her walk up an uneven, unpaved driveway (a lot like the walk surfaces here in Kathmandu), and as she lost balance and was falling, I let her flail, but hung on to her hand –kind of made me think of a rag doll– which I felt must look bad to others, but I knew was ok because she’s already dead and it wasn’t her living physical body I was holding up. I was just guiding her. We stepped into a field of tall, soft growth like clover –but blue– and about waist high and waded through a few steps, then stepped around, and up to come to rest against a cushion of some sort and I chose to ask –feeling the gift of Mom’s presence– if she’d met anyone yet, like past relatives, I was mostly thinking. She said, “No.” But it was so much more than a one word answer… along the lines of saying, “No, not really…” without actually saying the extra words, in a sing-song way that was so classically our mother. It was the most dramatic part of the dream for its familiarity of her voice. I felt, “how lonely! and sad that might be.” I think I asked about something else and she told me that she had been to a show (either Sweet Adelines or of something of Elliott and Wendy’s, I sensed).
The focus became distracted at that point, I think toward something about someone being in Elliott’s show (Timmy?) and then the dream was interrupted, but it left a powerful and lasting impression of a visit from our mother. I was in a very pleasant and warm afterglow and found myself re-telling the dream later at breakfast downstairs in the Yak & Yeti hotel, but mostly, I longed to share it with my siblings.
I truly felt like Mom was with me on my epic mountain adventure.
Packing Disability
I understand that it doesn’t have to be this hard. I am so close. I just can’t seem to take it to the place that I would call, …finished. I think I am close to being within weight limitations, even though I am not confident I am accurately interpreting the specifics of when the restrictions will be enacted, and to which piece. At one place in our information packet, it points out that the Sherpa will carry two duffel bags plus their own load and we are asked to stay around 30 pounds. Another source describes the plane ride to Lukla having a strict limit of 30 pounds, as well. But here it sounds like 30 pounds total, not just the duffel. My trip comrade, Gary, pointed out that we’ll feel better, when it comes to trying to get that smaller plane off the ground on our way to Lukla, if we haven’t cheated the weight limitations. Point well taken.
The plan during the trekking is for each of us to wear a day-pack that contains anything we think we will want to have during that day… rain gear, sun screen, camera, snack, mole skin, water bottles. I am beginning to picture it as my kitchen junk drawer. If I need anything, I look in the junk drawer. The duffel will be riding ahead of us on the back of a Sherpa or Yak (not sure which, yet), unavailable to us, on the way to that evening’s camp location. It will contain the extra clothes, some cold weather gear for possible use on days at the highest elevations, comfy camp shoes, more reading material (than what is in my ‘junk drawer’), gifts for the schools higher up the trail… that sort of thing.
That seems like a simple delineation of purposes. However, there are a couple of variations that are muddying up my ability to close down the packing phase. Prior to reaching that fine routine of the two separate bags for two different purposes, I have to get all this gear through airports in multiple countries. One of the bags, my duffel, will be checked and thus allowed to contain some of the items forbidden within the passenger compartment. The other one, my day-pack, will be carry-on. The two bags probably won’t take the exact same route to Kathmandu, so I want to be prepared for the possibility of delay in reuniting with my duffel.
I intend to pack a little differently for the first phase of the trip than I will for the actual trekking. These things are such a quandary for a person of concrete, sequential mindset. It’s causing a slight delay in accomplishing the completion of this part of preparation. I WILL take care of this detail before the required hour and I expect to get on with visualizing a series of pleasing, on-time plane rides to kick off the big expedition.
If you are able to supress your snickering over the likelihood of these visualizations, it may improve my odds of success.
