I have been tutoring a 56-year-old Korean woman for a whole year, and today was our last lesson together. During the past year, we had established a pretty stellar tradition of swapping English lessons for homemade banana bread. Since it was volunteer tutoring, she had elected to fill my belly twice a week in compensation.
But she had unintentionally given me so much more than just the tasty homemade “cake” as she called it. A teacher/tutor must possess a fierce thirst for knowledge, because teaching is the greatest way to learn. The powerful insights that I have gathered from my lessons with Chae-Hee can be summed up in 4 ways:
1. How to Welcome Silence:
Chae-Hee and I would occasionally go to lunch to celebrate major learning improvements that she had accomplished. While dining, I learned that it is okay to be silent. From what I could deduce, Chae-Hee feels incentive to speak only when necessary. So many of the words in our culture (gossip and curse words) are useless and unnecessary. She taught me that profound comfort can exist in silent exchanges between individuals, and soon I stopped feeling the urge to say random things to fill the silence.
2.How to Use chopsticks:
I had learned to utilize these instruments before, but Chae-Hee taught me how to use using them. Chopsticks make you slow down when you eat and force you to appreciate every mouthful of tasty chow. I was so used to using my fork as a shovel that I never realized the enchanting powers of chopsticking. This might explain why many Asians who use chopsticks have beautifully slim figures.
3. How to Nurture and love
Chae-Hee would tell me how she would go to the grocery store literally every day and cook a meal for her children three times per day. Today she planned to cook Lamb for her son upon request. She doesn’t feel the need to occupy her time watching television or surfing the web because her biggest priorities are to take care of her children and to make sure that they stay healthy and well-fed. She puts all of her energy into nurturing and loving others, while she rarely takes into consideration her own needs. One day we discussed what we both thought we were good at, and she couldn’t come up with anything to say about herself. I said, “Are you kidding me? You are an incredible mother and a brilliant chef!” She said, “Yes, I think maybe I am a good mother.” Another time I gave her a writing prompt that questioned what she would do with an invisibility cloak, and she wrote, “well I would go to a bank and I would get much money and would give to poor people.”
4. How to Construct Meaning and Set High Standards
In January, I handed Chae-Hee a copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and asked her if she would like to challenge herself. Back at the beginning of the year in September, Chae-Hee made me repeat the words “How are you?” because she wasn’t sure what they meant. Yesterday, she finished reading Harry Potter. I was a walking exclamation point when she told me she had finally finished. I thought, wow; if this broad could read an entire novel in a foreign language, I could do anything I set my mind to. Every week, we would read the summaries she made about each chapter and discuss the questions she had about the book (Rowling invented an absurd amount of vocabulary that couldn’t be found in her Korean-English translator). And every week, her summaries were dead on. I was baffled, and she knew it. We watched the movie during the second last week of class and I bought her the second Harry Potter movie as a reward for completing the book. She needed no reward, however, but to know that she had completed such a remarkable feat. The smile she bore as she flipped through the pages to show me just how many she had read will brighten my day every time I think of it.
Another life-lesson I took away from the Harry Potter success was that we can construct meaning by connecting the events of our lives. I always made sure Chae-Hee was aware that she did not have to understand every single word when she read them; she just had to make her own connections between concepts or words that she did understand. Her summaries proved that she could accomplish this handsomely, and she found this advice to be extremely helpful. In life, we will never understand everything that happens to us. But by developing a positive mind, we can connect all the seemingly meaningless events that pass us by each day and construct meaning out of them. “Going through the motions” stops immediately when you give everything in your life a purpose and try to analyze or connect the things that bring you joy.
Check out a story that we wrote together in the post below this if you liked this entry. Our story might be a bestseller one day, so there’s your sneak preview.
In Chae-Hee’s thank-you letter to me (she is moving back to Korea but we will still be pen-pals), she wrote:
I had fun studying with you. You taught me how to study English and understand it. I think my English improved. You are very kind and smart, and warm-hearted. I think you will be a great English teacher. And you were a great teacher to me. Thank you very much, I will miss you very much.
I wish that I could tell her what a great teacher she was to me.
Maybe I’ll send her this entry one day and make her play with her translator again once her English has gotten rusty over in Korea.
I’ll tell her that her banana cake tasted delicious, but her inspiration tasted even better.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
A Story by a Korean Woman and a College Student
At the beginning of the year, my tutee and I wrote a story together, alternating who would write (line by line). Here it is:
The Evil Turkey Sandwich
By: Meg McGinty and Chae-Hee Chong
Ming Su went to school one day, and his mother packed his lunch. Ming Su always wants to eat meat food. His mother put vegetables in his lunch, and he threw them away. Ming Su thinks “how can I not eat vegetables?” after a second he has an idea. He decides to trade his vegetables with another student’s turkey sandwich. After school he lies to his mother. “I ate my vegetables almost.” But then, Ming Su was sick with a stomach pain for the rest of the night because of the rotten turkey sandwich. His mother worried about Ming Su’s health so she took him to the hospital. He takes a medicine for stomach pain. Ming Su never again lied to his mother, and always ate his vegetables.
The End
The Evil Turkey Sandwich
By: Meg McGinty and Chae-Hee Chong
Ming Su went to school one day, and his mother packed his lunch. Ming Su always wants to eat meat food. His mother put vegetables in his lunch, and he threw them away. Ming Su thinks “how can I not eat vegetables?” after a second he has an idea. He decides to trade his vegetables with another student’s turkey sandwich. After school he lies to his mother. “I ate my vegetables almost.” But then, Ming Su was sick with a stomach pain for the rest of the night because of the rotten turkey sandwich. His mother worried about Ming Su’s health so she took him to the hospital. He takes a medicine for stomach pain. Ming Su never again lied to his mother, and always ate his vegetables.
The End
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Manipulating Circumstance
"Your life is the manifestation of your dream; it is an art. You can change your life anytime if you aren't enjoying the dream."
-Don Ruiz in The Four Agreements
Yesterday was a dreary day.
The fact that I have lost 3 unfaithful umbrellas to the weather of State College, PA illustrates the typical gloom that yuck-ifies our area. State College bathed itself yesterday in a familiar drizzle as I roamed the streets umbrella-less. My refusal to buy another umbrella in anticipation of it falling victim to more of Mother Nature’s abuse was actually quite “refreshing.” When other nice people see a soggy female strolling through the rain without protection, they usually offer their own umbrellas. This was very comforting. The intimacy of the umbrella is pretty wonderful — you are forced to share a tiny diameter with another human being, which usually only happens in a romantic relationship or in a street fight (in acting, the rule is if you get this close to someone on stage you either need to punch them or kiss them). But the umbrella requires neither situation; it just brings people together in order to achieve cooperative protection from an exterior aggressor.
The crappy day ended with a cathartic episode, however, because I felt that I needed to light a flame somehow. I spontaneously decided to do an intense outdoor track workout at 9PM in the rain. (There might have also been a little incentive to burn off the cheesecake and 3 cookies I had after dinner, but it was still spur of the moment).
If you have never done a track workout alone at night, I implore you to do so. Standing there by myself staring at the giant maroon canvas that was inviting me to clutter it with my footprints, I embraced the moment of solitude. No one was watching. There was a vague discomfort induced by the chill of the rain, but there was peace in the absence of comfort because it was my discomfort, and there was no one else to share it with.
There’s also something magical about running as fast you possibly can for an uncomfortable amount of time. I will do this on occasion when I feel overwhelmed or stressed under life’s many pressures (finals are coming up). As I gazed at the light reflecting off the puddles of water that had accumulated on the track, I let the frustrations of the week energize me in preparation for a speed-burst. Once I had gathered enough steam, I took off and ran as fast as possible for two laps, several times.
There is a source of strength in all of us that is just waiting to be tapped in to, and it often tastes the best when it is explored for absolutely no reason at all. I probably ran faster than I ever did during cross country season training last night on the track because I just ran for the hell of it. I was exhilarated by the rain, the darkness, and the peculiarity of my decision to run in those conditions.
Very often, there are circumstances like rain or stress that will bum us out, or make us want to consume massive amounts of ice cream and remain sedentary. But we have the ability to reframe each circumstance to make it work for us. In The Portrait of a Lady, Henry James illustrates this concept beautifully in the opening chapter of the novel by portraying a scene where the characters move all their furniture out on to the lawn to create a new setting to dine in — an artistic way of demonstrating that humans control circumstance, and not the other way around. I’d like to do this more; it added some excitement to an otherwise lackluster day.
Being born to run means moving the furniture to the lawn and running in the rain because you can.
It means circumstance can go to hell.
-Don Ruiz in The Four Agreements
Yesterday was a dreary day.
The fact that I have lost 3 unfaithful umbrellas to the weather of State College, PA illustrates the typical gloom that yuck-ifies our area. State College bathed itself yesterday in a familiar drizzle as I roamed the streets umbrella-less. My refusal to buy another umbrella in anticipation of it falling victim to more of Mother Nature’s abuse was actually quite “refreshing.” When other nice people see a soggy female strolling through the rain without protection, they usually offer their own umbrellas. This was very comforting. The intimacy of the umbrella is pretty wonderful — you are forced to share a tiny diameter with another human being, which usually only happens in a romantic relationship or in a street fight (in acting, the rule is if you get this close to someone on stage you either need to punch them or kiss them). But the umbrella requires neither situation; it just brings people together in order to achieve cooperative protection from an exterior aggressor.
The crappy day ended with a cathartic episode, however, because I felt that I needed to light a flame somehow. I spontaneously decided to do an intense outdoor track workout at 9PM in the rain. (There might have also been a little incentive to burn off the cheesecake and 3 cookies I had after dinner, but it was still spur of the moment).
If you have never done a track workout alone at night, I implore you to do so. Standing there by myself staring at the giant maroon canvas that was inviting me to clutter it with my footprints, I embraced the moment of solitude. No one was watching. There was a vague discomfort induced by the chill of the rain, but there was peace in the absence of comfort because it was my discomfort, and there was no one else to share it with.
There’s also something magical about running as fast you possibly can for an uncomfortable amount of time. I will do this on occasion when I feel overwhelmed or stressed under life’s many pressures (finals are coming up). As I gazed at the light reflecting off the puddles of water that had accumulated on the track, I let the frustrations of the week energize me in preparation for a speed-burst. Once I had gathered enough steam, I took off and ran as fast as possible for two laps, several times.
There is a source of strength in all of us that is just waiting to be tapped in to, and it often tastes the best when it is explored for absolutely no reason at all. I probably ran faster than I ever did during cross country season training last night on the track because I just ran for the hell of it. I was exhilarated by the rain, the darkness, and the peculiarity of my decision to run in those conditions.
Very often, there are circumstances like rain or stress that will bum us out, or make us want to consume massive amounts of ice cream and remain sedentary. But we have the ability to reframe each circumstance to make it work for us. In The Portrait of a Lady, Henry James illustrates this concept beautifully in the opening chapter of the novel by portraying a scene where the characters move all their furniture out on to the lawn to create a new setting to dine in — an artistic way of demonstrating that humans control circumstance, and not the other way around. I’d like to do this more; it added some excitement to an otherwise lackluster day.
Being born to run means moving the furniture to the lawn and running in the rain because you can.
It means circumstance can go to hell.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Out of the Frying Pan
"Do your best to fulfill the needs of your body."
-Don Ruiz in The Four Agreements
I apologize for the length on this one, but I promise it's good stuff. From now on entries will be short and sweet.
It was 8AM, and the sound of my alarm made me want to ring someone’s neck. What kind of world did I live in that would force me to leave such a comfortable assembly of cotton sheets? Lying in the darkness of that morning’s gloom, I almost convinced myself to cancel life for a day. Then a flood of thoughts cascaded violently through my lethargy. A most unwelcome collection of unfinished business inundated my mind, forcing me to leave my bed and head straight for the coffee machine. I frantically began to plan my day and pack up my life in a bag that wasn’t fit to hold it while I simultaneously completed a mental checklist of everything I had most likely forgotten to do already. My beloved peanut butter waffle sandwich tasted delicious but there was no time to savor it. The tornado of my morning preparations had left my room a mess but there was no time to clean it. I feared that my fish might suffocate and drown in the filth contaminating their tank but there was no time to change their water. After I exited the apartment and bolted down three sets of stairs, I realized that I had forgotten my wallet. The fish held their breath in anxiety as I dashed into the room, reunited with my wallet, and dashed back out again. The day had begun.
It was during this murky phase of my life that I had let my perception of living “fully” determine how I should live; I was both the subject and the artist behind the portrait of a life that I thought would be meaningful. Mortality became a reality all of the sudden and I was under the impression that I needed to do more with my life. I wanted to live life intensely — but life was intensely beating the crap out of me. My mind oscillated between the desire to suck all the essence out of life and the struggle to love all the essence that I was sucking. A sinister thirst for learning, for doing, for seeing and feeling possessed me with intoxicating force as I entered my sophomore semester at Penn State University. I wanted to meet and experience and involve and work hard and play hard and exercise and… never sleep. Then there was the egg pan.
The dreary day that followed the morning I have described proceeded to echo the chaos of that morning’s activity. After sitting through five classes, writing an article for the newspaper, tutoring at a writing center, tutoring at Panera (while feasting on delicious pastries), and draining myself at a two-hour swim practice where I nearly drowned because someone kicked me in the face, I went to make myself an omelet. There had always been a separate pan that I used specifically for cooking eggs in because when I cook them, my impatience causes me to burn the eggs, leaving a permanent crust on the bottom of the pan.
I whipped out my trusty egg pan, but then turned on the lights to suddenly stop and search the inside of the frying pan for a reflection of myself that I had somehow lost. Crusty egg residue blotted out my face. Normally, I would have overlooked the egg pan. I would have cooked/burnt my omelet and devoured it in less than a minute. As I peered through the egg residue at my distorted face in that moment, however, I was thunderstruck.
Two days later I quit two of the major activities that I was involved in at Penn State and I got rid of my egg pan, upgrading to a new and improved system of egg-scrambling. Starring into that egg pan was like looking into the eye of a hurricane; it was a brief moment of sublime inactivity. Suddenly I realized that in all my attempts to live fully, I had stopped living entirely. My health had been deteriorating and I was sick more often than I was healthy. My body was demanding that I slow down. I was doing all the activities that I loved to do, but I left myself no time to love doing them. Thinking of it now, I am reminded of Lady Gaga — the global pop superstar who passes out at concerts because she tries to take on more than she can handle. It became clear to me that I was letting external pressures control my life and that I needed to drastically alter my situation to correct that. I was a struggling dog, and all the outside forces that I had arranged for myself were holding the leash that walked me. I needed to hold the leash.
To put it simply, the egg pan somehow taught me the power of simplicity. In taking a moment to analyze the absurdity of the fact that I even owned a pan designated to burn my eggs on because I never allowed myself time to fully cook them, I discovered that I had lost myself in a demanding whirlpool of productivity. I realized that living fully is not about how much you do, it’s about how much of yourself you invest in every single action that you take. Cutting back on my activities illuminated the idea that to do everything at my own pace would be a much better way to live. It’s like riding a bike: you can’t be overambitious and choose to charge up a hill in a tough gear, or you might end up rolling backwards.
I learned that when you overdo, you deplete your body and go against yourself, and it will only take you longer to accomplish your goals. My fear was of missing out if I slowed down. The reality is that once I slowed down, I gained irreplaceable vigor and missed out on nothing. Soon after, my lifestyle changed permanently. I was no longer concerned with daily output, but rather with daily input. I began to appreciate the little things and magnify each experience and each relationship that I made to get the most out of them without trying to tackle too many at once.
I now cook my omelets slowly and diligently on a pan that I cook the rest of my food in. The meal tastes better than ever. I have lost my health only once in the past year, and I have learned to designate time in each day to reflect and to channel my attention toward taking excellent care of my body and mind.
I surfaced from the frying pan and switched gears to appreciate the light in each day.
Invigorating life means living at your own pace.
Simply.
-Don Ruiz in The Four Agreements
I apologize for the length on this one, but I promise it's good stuff. From now on entries will be short and sweet.
It was 8AM, and the sound of my alarm made me want to ring someone’s neck. What kind of world did I live in that would force me to leave such a comfortable assembly of cotton sheets? Lying in the darkness of that morning’s gloom, I almost convinced myself to cancel life for a day. Then a flood of thoughts cascaded violently through my lethargy. A most unwelcome collection of unfinished business inundated my mind, forcing me to leave my bed and head straight for the coffee machine. I frantically began to plan my day and pack up my life in a bag that wasn’t fit to hold it while I simultaneously completed a mental checklist of everything I had most likely forgotten to do already. My beloved peanut butter waffle sandwich tasted delicious but there was no time to savor it. The tornado of my morning preparations had left my room a mess but there was no time to clean it. I feared that my fish might suffocate and drown in the filth contaminating their tank but there was no time to change their water. After I exited the apartment and bolted down three sets of stairs, I realized that I had forgotten my wallet. The fish held their breath in anxiety as I dashed into the room, reunited with my wallet, and dashed back out again. The day had begun.
It was during this murky phase of my life that I had let my perception of living “fully” determine how I should live; I was both the subject and the artist behind the portrait of a life that I thought would be meaningful. Mortality became a reality all of the sudden and I was under the impression that I needed to do more with my life. I wanted to live life intensely — but life was intensely beating the crap out of me. My mind oscillated between the desire to suck all the essence out of life and the struggle to love all the essence that I was sucking. A sinister thirst for learning, for doing, for seeing and feeling possessed me with intoxicating force as I entered my sophomore semester at Penn State University. I wanted to meet and experience and involve and work hard and play hard and exercise and… never sleep. Then there was the egg pan.
The dreary day that followed the morning I have described proceeded to echo the chaos of that morning’s activity. After sitting through five classes, writing an article for the newspaper, tutoring at a writing center, tutoring at Panera (while feasting on delicious pastries), and draining myself at a two-hour swim practice where I nearly drowned because someone kicked me in the face, I went to make myself an omelet. There had always been a separate pan that I used specifically for cooking eggs in because when I cook them, my impatience causes me to burn the eggs, leaving a permanent crust on the bottom of the pan.
I whipped out my trusty egg pan, but then turned on the lights to suddenly stop and search the inside of the frying pan for a reflection of myself that I had somehow lost. Crusty egg residue blotted out my face. Normally, I would have overlooked the egg pan. I would have cooked/burnt my omelet and devoured it in less than a minute. As I peered through the egg residue at my distorted face in that moment, however, I was thunderstruck.
Two days later I quit two of the major activities that I was involved in at Penn State and I got rid of my egg pan, upgrading to a new and improved system of egg-scrambling. Starring into that egg pan was like looking into the eye of a hurricane; it was a brief moment of sublime inactivity. Suddenly I realized that in all my attempts to live fully, I had stopped living entirely. My health had been deteriorating and I was sick more often than I was healthy. My body was demanding that I slow down. I was doing all the activities that I loved to do, but I left myself no time to love doing them. Thinking of it now, I am reminded of Lady Gaga — the global pop superstar who passes out at concerts because she tries to take on more than she can handle. It became clear to me that I was letting external pressures control my life and that I needed to drastically alter my situation to correct that. I was a struggling dog, and all the outside forces that I had arranged for myself were holding the leash that walked me. I needed to hold the leash.
To put it simply, the egg pan somehow taught me the power of simplicity. In taking a moment to analyze the absurdity of the fact that I even owned a pan designated to burn my eggs on because I never allowed myself time to fully cook them, I discovered that I had lost myself in a demanding whirlpool of productivity. I realized that living fully is not about how much you do, it’s about how much of yourself you invest in every single action that you take. Cutting back on my activities illuminated the idea that to do everything at my own pace would be a much better way to live. It’s like riding a bike: you can’t be overambitious and choose to charge up a hill in a tough gear, or you might end up rolling backwards.
I learned that when you overdo, you deplete your body and go against yourself, and it will only take you longer to accomplish your goals. My fear was of missing out if I slowed down. The reality is that once I slowed down, I gained irreplaceable vigor and missed out on nothing. Soon after, my lifestyle changed permanently. I was no longer concerned with daily output, but rather with daily input. I began to appreciate the little things and magnify each experience and each relationship that I made to get the most out of them without trying to tackle too many at once.
I now cook my omelets slowly and diligently on a pan that I cook the rest of my food in. The meal tastes better than ever. I have lost my health only once in the past year, and I have learned to designate time in each day to reflect and to channel my attention toward taking excellent care of my body and mind.
I surfaced from the frying pan and switched gears to appreciate the light in each day.
Invigorating life means living at your own pace.
Simply.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Food for Thought
“Eat as though you were a poor person.”
-Christopher McDougall in Born to Run
Buffets and fast-food restaurants try desperately to conceal the secret formula that I am about to reveal to you about healthy eating. There are five easy ways to always feel fit, stay healthy, and look slim, and they all revolve around one concept: eating like a poor person.
The basic gist of this theory is to maximize the amount of nutrients that you can obtain from the smallest amount of calories possible. Diets don’t work. They are short-term. In order to feel better, to be more energized, and to eliminate any excess storage of fat, we have to change our lifestyles.
My dad is living proof of this; a few years ago he went vegetarian and is now running almost as fast as he did in high school at age 43. He also lost about 20 lbs and looks like a chizzled beast. He met with success because he determined to make a lifestyle out of vegetarianism — not a temporary diet. Personally, I feel healthier than I ever have and I approach each day with more energy than I had the day before it because I have chosen a similar lifestyle. There are five easy eating tricks that have improved my overall well-being. There are five simple ways to eat like a poor person:
1. Eating to Fuel
In the super-sized, convenience-based, buffet-style society that we live in, it is easier than ever to overeat or just feast for pleasure and convenience. Instead, our bodies should be treated like an automobile that needs to be gassed up to run efficiently. Each time we over eat, we abuse our bodies and we give them something that they don’t need. This is often the hardest part of the lifestyle (because things like Cheez-its and potato chips exist), but it can have a tremendous impact even if it stands alone as a singular lifestyle change.
2. Cutting Down on Meat Intake
If we base our diets on fruits, veggies, and whole grains instead of red meat and processed carbs, this would easily be the most empowering lifestyle change. We would be getting the maximum nutrition from the lowest number of calories while adding no useless bulk to our bodies. All the myths about not being able to sustain a healthy diet without meat and protein are absolutely false; the substitutions are endless. In fact, the average american eats over twice the recommended daily allowance for protein intake. The ultra-runners in Born to Run base their diets largely on vegetables and grains, and they are able to run hundreds of miles without passing out from a low protein intake. Moreoever, research has shown that adopting a vegetarian lifestyle can actually add SIX TO TEN years onto your life. More on a vegetarian lifestyle to come.
2. Savoring the Taste
When you sleep, sleep. When you study, study. When you eat, EAT! Savor the taste. Let no flavor escape your taste buds and appreciate every bite that you take. My family likes to shovel everything in so fast that we usually forget to breathe while eating. Slow down and delight in the nutrients that you are feeding your body.
3. Eliminating Distractions
Treat each meal as its own individual activity. I thought that my favorite way to eat was to sit in front of the TV watching Gilmore Girls (I have every episode on DVD sadly) while feasting. But then I tried sitting at the kitchen table with the TV off to devote my undivided attention to the food I was ingesting. It can be an entirely different experience, and it usually prevents overeating.
4. Never Starving
Starving is probably the worst way to approach weight-loss, yet unfortunately it is also the most common. Starving yourself severely slows your metabolism and often results in binge eating at a later period anyway. Eating small portions five times a day can satisfy your hunger and leave you lighter than ever without feeling food-deprived.
5. Becoming the Chef
This technique is probably what I struggle the most with. I’m culinarily challenged. But there are so many ways that restaurants or fast food places can manipulate the food that we eat, and the best way to prevent this from happening is to cook our own meals. Treating each meal as an event and taking the time to actually cook the food we eat can make all the difference. Many of the nutrients and flavors of the food are maintained this way, and we feel that we have accomplished something after we prepare our unique creations as well, thus completing the whole “meal experience.”
The poor person analogy makes sense. I can especially identify with it because at this point I am pretty poor. If you were poor, you would savor the hell out of every meal because who knows when you'd get your next one. You wouldn't have the luxury of distractions or of a 10 oz steak, and your only option might be to eat merely as fuel.
I don’t want to waste time feeling like crap because of the food that I eat. Life is too short to abuse my body and to make harmful nutritional choices. My body is the weapon that I attack each day with, and I want it to be strong. I want to feel good, look good, and run good.
So I eat like a poor person.
-Christopher McDougall in Born to Run
Buffets and fast-food restaurants try desperately to conceal the secret formula that I am about to reveal to you about healthy eating. There are five easy ways to always feel fit, stay healthy, and look slim, and they all revolve around one concept: eating like a poor person.
The basic gist of this theory is to maximize the amount of nutrients that you can obtain from the smallest amount of calories possible. Diets don’t work. They are short-term. In order to feel better, to be more energized, and to eliminate any excess storage of fat, we have to change our lifestyles.
My dad is living proof of this; a few years ago he went vegetarian and is now running almost as fast as he did in high school at age 43. He also lost about 20 lbs and looks like a chizzled beast. He met with success because he determined to make a lifestyle out of vegetarianism — not a temporary diet. Personally, I feel healthier than I ever have and I approach each day with more energy than I had the day before it because I have chosen a similar lifestyle. There are five easy eating tricks that have improved my overall well-being. There are five simple ways to eat like a poor person:
1. Eating to Fuel
In the super-sized, convenience-based, buffet-style society that we live in, it is easier than ever to overeat or just feast for pleasure and convenience. Instead, our bodies should be treated like an automobile that needs to be gassed up to run efficiently. Each time we over eat, we abuse our bodies and we give them something that they don’t need. This is often the hardest part of the lifestyle (because things like Cheez-its and potato chips exist), but it can have a tremendous impact even if it stands alone as a singular lifestyle change.
2. Cutting Down on Meat Intake
If we base our diets on fruits, veggies, and whole grains instead of red meat and processed carbs, this would easily be the most empowering lifestyle change. We would be getting the maximum nutrition from the lowest number of calories while adding no useless bulk to our bodies. All the myths about not being able to sustain a healthy diet without meat and protein are absolutely false; the substitutions are endless. In fact, the average american eats over twice the recommended daily allowance for protein intake. The ultra-runners in Born to Run base their diets largely on vegetables and grains, and they are able to run hundreds of miles without passing out from a low protein intake. Moreoever, research has shown that adopting a vegetarian lifestyle can actually add SIX TO TEN years onto your life. More on a vegetarian lifestyle to come.
2. Savoring the Taste
When you sleep, sleep. When you study, study. When you eat, EAT! Savor the taste. Let no flavor escape your taste buds and appreciate every bite that you take. My family likes to shovel everything in so fast that we usually forget to breathe while eating. Slow down and delight in the nutrients that you are feeding your body.
3. Eliminating Distractions
Treat each meal as its own individual activity. I thought that my favorite way to eat was to sit in front of the TV watching Gilmore Girls (I have every episode on DVD sadly) while feasting. But then I tried sitting at the kitchen table with the TV off to devote my undivided attention to the food I was ingesting. It can be an entirely different experience, and it usually prevents overeating.
4. Never Starving
Starving is probably the worst way to approach weight-loss, yet unfortunately it is also the most common. Starving yourself severely slows your metabolism and often results in binge eating at a later period anyway. Eating small portions five times a day can satisfy your hunger and leave you lighter than ever without feeling food-deprived.
5. Becoming the Chef
This technique is probably what I struggle the most with. I’m culinarily challenged. But there are so many ways that restaurants or fast food places can manipulate the food that we eat, and the best way to prevent this from happening is to cook our own meals. Treating each meal as an event and taking the time to actually cook the food we eat can make all the difference. Many of the nutrients and flavors of the food are maintained this way, and we feel that we have accomplished something after we prepare our unique creations as well, thus completing the whole “meal experience.”
The poor person analogy makes sense. I can especially identify with it because at this point I am pretty poor. If you were poor, you would savor the hell out of every meal because who knows when you'd get your next one. You wouldn't have the luxury of distractions or of a 10 oz steak, and your only option might be to eat merely as fuel.
I don’t want to waste time feeling like crap because of the food that I eat. Life is too short to abuse my body and to make harmful nutritional choices. My body is the weapon that I attack each day with, and I want it to be strong. I want to feel good, look good, and run good.
So I eat like a poor person.
Monday, April 19, 2010
A Challenge on Wheels
“We say the rarájapari is the game of life. You never know how hard it’ll be. You never know when it’ll end. You can’t control it. You can only adjust.”
-Christopher McDougall in Born to Run
I often think about that quote. It refers to a game based on racing to a ball that is thrown for the Raramuri runners in Born to Run, but it also reveals a very sublime truth about life: we can only ever adjust to our given circumstances.
This past weekend my bike Marge was overworked. Marge is not used to performing very rigorously, so as I enslaved her to carry me further than usual this weekend she bitterly reminded me of her exhaustion by squeaking her parts at me in a fury. I’m really not a frequent biker, but somehow I was peer-pressured into doing a race on Saturday and a 30-mile death-ride the next day.
On Sunday I think I lost my soul on a mountain. Two of my friends and I decided to tackle a 30 mile course with a 3 mile vertical climb (1100 ft)in the middle of it while mixed precipitation fell from the sky. I’d like to invite you briefly into the state of mind that I fell into during those 3 tragic miles.
Temperatures were low, so while we sweat we saw our breath. While I desperately fought the urge to get off my bike and walk, I also had to deal with the misfortune of having Hannah Montana's “It’s the climb” song stuck in my head the whole way up the mountain, which increased my pain exponentially. Every few seconds or so, I glanced to the woods on my left expecting to see the skeletons of bikers who lost the will to live while fighting their way up that hill. A porcupine lay dead on the side of the rode and I began to analyze the origin of the word porcupine (it means thorny pig) because I wanted to stop thinking about how much more hill I needed to climb. Just as my vision began to blur from hunger and fatigue, I finally reunited with my fellow cyclists at the top of the mountain where my friend Kathleen announced, “I feel like the baddest of asses.” It was true; I felt invincible.
Biking is like the rarájapari and the game of life. When the road ahead of you changes, you are forced to adjust and switch into a different gear in order to manage. You also have to learn to trust your bike, just as you have to learn to put faith and trust in the people you meet in life. You clench your handlebars until your knuckles go white hoping that a squirrel won’t run out in front of you and send you to the hospital, but anything could happen at any given moment — so you’re senses are heightened. Our everyday problems are our mountain climbs, and the downhill rush that concludes each climb echoes the relief that we feel after we have accomplished something worthwhile. Biking forces you to constantly be in-tune with your body, your senses, and your immediate situation — a fine recipe for healthy living.
Sometimes I like to go extreme. It is equally pleasing sometimes to invigorate the ordinary, but changing up the routine every so often can truly revitalize. I was just going to stay home and do homework all day on Sunday, but instead I had a near-death experience up a mountain that I never thought I'd be able to climb. That bike ride totally justified eating three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner.
Challenging yourself is fun; it invigorates the mind.
-Christopher McDougall in Born to Run
I often think about that quote. It refers to a game based on racing to a ball that is thrown for the Raramuri runners in Born to Run, but it also reveals a very sublime truth about life: we can only ever adjust to our given circumstances.
This past weekend my bike Marge was overworked. Marge is not used to performing very rigorously, so as I enslaved her to carry me further than usual this weekend she bitterly reminded me of her exhaustion by squeaking her parts at me in a fury. I’m really not a frequent biker, but somehow I was peer-pressured into doing a race on Saturday and a 30-mile death-ride the next day.
On Sunday I think I lost my soul on a mountain. Two of my friends and I decided to tackle a 30 mile course with a 3 mile vertical climb (1100 ft)in the middle of it while mixed precipitation fell from the sky. I’d like to invite you briefly into the state of mind that I fell into during those 3 tragic miles.
Temperatures were low, so while we sweat we saw our breath. While I desperately fought the urge to get off my bike and walk, I also had to deal with the misfortune of having Hannah Montana's “It’s the climb” song stuck in my head the whole way up the mountain, which increased my pain exponentially. Every few seconds or so, I glanced to the woods on my left expecting to see the skeletons of bikers who lost the will to live while fighting their way up that hill. A porcupine lay dead on the side of the rode and I began to analyze the origin of the word porcupine (it means thorny pig) because I wanted to stop thinking about how much more hill I needed to climb. Just as my vision began to blur from hunger and fatigue, I finally reunited with my fellow cyclists at the top of the mountain where my friend Kathleen announced, “I feel like the baddest of asses.” It was true; I felt invincible.
Biking is like the rarájapari and the game of life. When the road ahead of you changes, you are forced to adjust and switch into a different gear in order to manage. You also have to learn to trust your bike, just as you have to learn to put faith and trust in the people you meet in life. You clench your handlebars until your knuckles go white hoping that a squirrel won’t run out in front of you and send you to the hospital, but anything could happen at any given moment — so you’re senses are heightened. Our everyday problems are our mountain climbs, and the downhill rush that concludes each climb echoes the relief that we feel after we have accomplished something worthwhile. Biking forces you to constantly be in-tune with your body, your senses, and your immediate situation — a fine recipe for healthy living.
Sometimes I like to go extreme. It is equally pleasing sometimes to invigorate the ordinary, but changing up the routine every so often can truly revitalize. I was just going to stay home and do homework all day on Sunday, but instead I had a near-death experience up a mountain that I never thought I'd be able to climb. That bike ride totally justified eating three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner.
Challenging yourself is fun; it invigorates the mind.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Service with a Smile
“If you take action because you have to, there is no way you are going to do your best. Then it’s better not to do it.”
-Don Ruiz in The Four Agreements
Never invest in a Tinkerbell alarm clock.
This piece of wisdom will save your life. It will prevent you from supporting the Tinkerbell industry, which I think is ridiculous. Though she might be a cute little sassy fairy for most of the movie, she also has a lot of attitude that goes unnoticed and almost gets Peter Pan killed because of her egoism. And why is Peter merchandise so hard to find in Disney stores? All I ever see is Tinkerbell. Perhaps others are like me, and have always imagined flying away with Peter Pan – not Tinkerbell. She nevertheless hogs consumer's attention. Moreover, the advice will save you from interrupted sleep. The Tinkerbell on top of my alarm clock has mischievously deceived me in a very characteristic way. She decided to meddle with the components of my clock to alter the time while I was asleep so that it would wake me up a whole two hours earlier than I was supposed to wake up (I got up at 6:30 AM, got ready for my bike race and then realized the actual time). That is the only explanation that I can devise as to why my clock was suddenly two hours off this morning. Clever little inanimate bitch.
Recently, I have been struggling with an urge to quit my job. I waitress at a steakhouse in a golf resort that receives very little action during the winter months, which usually means that I go home miserable and broke. However, business has picked up again for spring and stricter management has thus ensued. Busting my butt all night for people who refuse to tip 20% lately has made me seriously consider becoming a hippie and cultivating my own crops to eat and sell for a living. I’m also not fond of criticism or confrontation.
When I waitress, I have this excruciating fear of making mistakes. College has taught me that if I am not careful I could be labeled as a perfectionist. This label does not interest me, as I would condemn this characteristic in anyone else. I understand that beauty often exists in imperfection. But I just don’t like to do things unless I can do them well.
Clearly, I was in need of a serious mental makeover on this one. I decided to reframe the way I thought about working in the restaurant, so I thought about it for what it’s worth instead of why it pisses me off. I acknowledged that work is where I earn the money to eat (a college diet of peanut butter & jelly and tuna fish sandwiches), where I establish new relationships with co-workers, where I practice my theater skills (a waitress is an actress), and where I can appreciate not sitting in a cubicle all day at another job (if I were sedentary for more than an hour my life-long caffeine intake might actually kill me). It’s easy to be depressed about the downfalls of working and to feel anxiety about pleasing others. But it’s a challenge to derive only positive aspects from the experience, and to actually look forward to taking orders and performing quality manual labor.
Seneca writes, “He who takes orders gladly escapes the bitterest part of slavery – doing what one does not want to do. Let us set our minds in order that we may desire whatever is demanded of us by circumstances, and we may reflect upon our end without sadness.”
I went in to work yesterday excited to take orders. I re-taught myself the entire menu to feel extra confident and decided to have fun with all my tables regardless of any errors that I might make. The attitude with which I approached doing my job made the night go by quickly and painlessly. I was glad to do my work well; I was happy to perform.
While I only made about six dollars an hour total, I didn’t take off several years of my life stressing about being perfect this time while doing it. I had fun with it, and my tables loved me. I felt accomplished. Don Ruiz reveals that you should never do more or less than your best and that doing your best is taking action because you love it — not because you expect a reward from it.
Doing our best is all that we can do. Love every action that you take, and it will give you more than you ever thought possible. Complainers suck.
Thank you Ruiz for the 20% tips.
-Don Ruiz in The Four Agreements
Never invest in a Tinkerbell alarm clock.
This piece of wisdom will save your life. It will prevent you from supporting the Tinkerbell industry, which I think is ridiculous. Though she might be a cute little sassy fairy for most of the movie, she also has a lot of attitude that goes unnoticed and almost gets Peter Pan killed because of her egoism. And why is Peter merchandise so hard to find in Disney stores? All I ever see is Tinkerbell. Perhaps others are like me, and have always imagined flying away with Peter Pan – not Tinkerbell. She nevertheless hogs consumer's attention. Moreover, the advice will save you from interrupted sleep. The Tinkerbell on top of my alarm clock has mischievously deceived me in a very characteristic way. She decided to meddle with the components of my clock to alter the time while I was asleep so that it would wake me up a whole two hours earlier than I was supposed to wake up (I got up at 6:30 AM, got ready for my bike race and then realized the actual time). That is the only explanation that I can devise as to why my clock was suddenly two hours off this morning. Clever little inanimate bitch.
Recently, I have been struggling with an urge to quit my job. I waitress at a steakhouse in a golf resort that receives very little action during the winter months, which usually means that I go home miserable and broke. However, business has picked up again for spring and stricter management has thus ensued. Busting my butt all night for people who refuse to tip 20% lately has made me seriously consider becoming a hippie and cultivating my own crops to eat and sell for a living. I’m also not fond of criticism or confrontation.
When I waitress, I have this excruciating fear of making mistakes. College has taught me that if I am not careful I could be labeled as a perfectionist. This label does not interest me, as I would condemn this characteristic in anyone else. I understand that beauty often exists in imperfection. But I just don’t like to do things unless I can do them well.
Clearly, I was in need of a serious mental makeover on this one. I decided to reframe the way I thought about working in the restaurant, so I thought about it for what it’s worth instead of why it pisses me off. I acknowledged that work is where I earn the money to eat (a college diet of peanut butter & jelly and tuna fish sandwiches), where I establish new relationships with co-workers, where I practice my theater skills (a waitress is an actress), and where I can appreciate not sitting in a cubicle all day at another job (if I were sedentary for more than an hour my life-long caffeine intake might actually kill me). It’s easy to be depressed about the downfalls of working and to feel anxiety about pleasing others. But it’s a challenge to derive only positive aspects from the experience, and to actually look forward to taking orders and performing quality manual labor.
Seneca writes, “He who takes orders gladly escapes the bitterest part of slavery – doing what one does not want to do. Let us set our minds in order that we may desire whatever is demanded of us by circumstances, and we may reflect upon our end without sadness.”
I went in to work yesterday excited to take orders. I re-taught myself the entire menu to feel extra confident and decided to have fun with all my tables regardless of any errors that I might make. The attitude with which I approached doing my job made the night go by quickly and painlessly. I was glad to do my work well; I was happy to perform.
While I only made about six dollars an hour total, I didn’t take off several years of my life stressing about being perfect this time while doing it. I had fun with it, and my tables loved me. I felt accomplished. Don Ruiz reveals that you should never do more or less than your best and that doing your best is taking action because you love it — not because you expect a reward from it.
Doing our best is all that we can do. Love every action that you take, and it will give you more than you ever thought possible. Complainers suck.
Thank you Ruiz for the 20% tips.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Age is just a Number
"You don't stop running because you get old. You get old because you stop running."
-Christopher McDougall in Born to Run
Twenty years ago, I met a hero.
He did not impress me at the time; I only acknowledged him as someone who was constantly nearby and who seemed very fond of the woman who fed me.
At age 43, this man set a world record in a 4x800 relay in Master’s track. Later that year, he astounded his fans as he crossed the finish line of a mile race in 4:29. Read that again. 43 years old…. 4 minutes and 29 seconds for a mile. Should not compute. I can’t even get my running shoes on that fast.
Surprisingly, this human track-machine was not born with a whole lot of natural talent for running; he worked his butt off to compensate. In an age of facilitative technology and accessible convenience, genuine hard work has almost become extinct. Not to say that people don't work hard, but it has become easier to work hard in a way. Olympic swimmers put on their Fastskin LZR racer suits to out-gear their competitors, and tracks are now banked for runners to gain maximum speed as opposed to competing on the prehistoric gravel tracks of about twenty years ago. Steroids in baseball make for a whole different "ball game."
This oober-fast runner embraces hard work. He thrives on it. The asthma that flares up in him and the absence of color in this guy’s face when he finishes a race leaves a spectator wondering first if he’ll need an ambulance, and second how an old dude can put such an incredible amount of effort into every single competition that he does. And somehow, there’s always a man about ten feet in front of him who he decides to mercilessly pass right at the very end of his race. His kick is incredible. I suggested that he probably pays a man each time to stay ahead of him until right near the finish line just so he can put on a show for his fans. He laughed, but he didn’t deny it.
His life inspires everyone around him. He could have easily contented himself with the 4:15 mile record he’s held for 20 years at his high school and retired himself to a luxurious life of television and golf. Instead, he chose to live with a purpose. A few years ago he decided to try going vegan; meat hasn’t hit his lips since. He says “screw you” to old-age every time he ties up his sneakers, and he loves doing it. Why do we assign such a negative stigma to old age? As people grow older, they grow wiser. Wisdom is a beautiful thing. And in terms of distance running, people actually get faster as they get older. What if we all live like my hero, and stop letting age dictate how we live our lives? As author Lucius Seneca writes, "to have lived long enough depends neither upon our years nor upon our days, but upon our minds." Attitude can change everything.
This was the case of one man who defies inability with excruciating labor just to do what he loves. Embracing life can mean running till you want to die in a track race to please nobody but yourself, or it can mean becoming part of a community of people who share your interests. This man tackles both with his master’s track career – and he does it in style.
My dad lives with a purpose.
He was born to run.
-Christopher McDougall in Born to Run
Twenty years ago, I met a hero.
He did not impress me at the time; I only acknowledged him as someone who was constantly nearby and who seemed very fond of the woman who fed me.
At age 43, this man set a world record in a 4x800 relay in Master’s track. Later that year, he astounded his fans as he crossed the finish line of a mile race in 4:29. Read that again. 43 years old…. 4 minutes and 29 seconds for a mile. Should not compute. I can’t even get my running shoes on that fast.
Surprisingly, this human track-machine was not born with a whole lot of natural talent for running; he worked his butt off to compensate. In an age of facilitative technology and accessible convenience, genuine hard work has almost become extinct. Not to say that people don't work hard, but it has become easier to work hard in a way. Olympic swimmers put on their Fastskin LZR racer suits to out-gear their competitors, and tracks are now banked for runners to gain maximum speed as opposed to competing on the prehistoric gravel tracks of about twenty years ago. Steroids in baseball make for a whole different "ball game."
This oober-fast runner embraces hard work. He thrives on it. The asthma that flares up in him and the absence of color in this guy’s face when he finishes a race leaves a spectator wondering first if he’ll need an ambulance, and second how an old dude can put such an incredible amount of effort into every single competition that he does. And somehow, there’s always a man about ten feet in front of him who he decides to mercilessly pass right at the very end of his race. His kick is incredible. I suggested that he probably pays a man each time to stay ahead of him until right near the finish line just so he can put on a show for his fans. He laughed, but he didn’t deny it.
His life inspires everyone around him. He could have easily contented himself with the 4:15 mile record he’s held for 20 years at his high school and retired himself to a luxurious life of television and golf. Instead, he chose to live with a purpose. A few years ago he decided to try going vegan; meat hasn’t hit his lips since. He says “screw you” to old-age every time he ties up his sneakers, and he loves doing it. Why do we assign such a negative stigma to old age? As people grow older, they grow wiser. Wisdom is a beautiful thing. And in terms of distance running, people actually get faster as they get older. What if we all live like my hero, and stop letting age dictate how we live our lives? As author Lucius Seneca writes, "to have lived long enough depends neither upon our years nor upon our days, but upon our minds." Attitude can change everything.
This was the case of one man who defies inability with excruciating labor just to do what he loves. Embracing life can mean running till you want to die in a track race to please nobody but yourself, or it can mean becoming part of a community of people who share your interests. This man tackles both with his master’s track career – and he does it in style.
My dad lives with a purpose.
He was born to run.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The Crisis of the Missing Keys
"If I love you, then you will love me."
-Don Ruiz, in The Four Agreements
Karma and I have broken up several times before because of some trust issues. This weekend, we got back together.
About 3 weeks ago, I was on my way to spin class in a gym at Penn State. After I had changed in the bathroom, something shiny caught my eye. The king of all rings suddenly stared me straight in the face. Someone had clearly dropped this precious piece of jewelery by accident, surrendering it to the filth on the bathroom floor. I was immediately overwhelmed with a compelling urge to swipe it.
There have been no other instances of theivery in my past that I can think of. But this ring was fantastic. It was just the perfect size, and the design on it was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. I justified taking it by assuming that someone had left it there by accident and would never come back to look for it anyway. Karma fixed its withering eye upon me as I slipped the shiny silver ring onto my finger.
Three weeks later I lost the keys to my apartment and to my car. They were both on the same key lanyard that had apparently fallen out of my backpack on campus that day. Most people would never think to construct a connection between the two events that I have just described, but because my guilty conscience is so impressively strong I couldn't help but relate these two scenarios. I spent the next two days frantically searching for my keys on campus, tracing every step that I made the day that my keys had disappeared. Know what I found? Someone else's keys. They dangled from a lanyard that was strikingly similar to that of my own set of keys - a situation that Alanis Morisette would have argued was rather "ironic." I was pissed. I actually did a double-take of these keys, hoping that upon second glance I could turn the keys into my own if I stared at them hard enough. Apparently my jedi-mind powers were a little rusty that day.
I kept walking and headed toward the classroom I was en-route to in hopes of reuniting with my own keys when I realized what I had just done. To sparknote the rest of this anecdote, I turned in the keys that I found to the lost-and-found at the center of campus where I thought someone might turn mine it at. I also took my stolen ring off because I figured if some supernatural force was at work here, I might as well take off the karma-infested ring just in case.
The next day, after making about 20 prior efforts to try to locate my stupid keys, I asked the lost-and-found desk at the center of campus if anyone had turned anything in that matched my description again as a final resort. When the lady held up my precious keys I almost lept over the counter to kiss her. Not sure how acceptable that woulda been.
The story sounds incredibly insignificant. But if you choose to learn from any small event in your life instead of just letting it pass you by, you might end up finding meaning in everything. When I found my keys, I put the ring that I had stolen back in the gym on the sink next to where I had found it. Even though I returned it a whole three weeks after I had found the ring, I desperately hoped that maybe some force of nature would alert its rightful owner of the return.
The key crisis "unlocked" a whole set of positive lessons for me. It forced me to stop driving my car to campus every day, which made me get on my tri-bike to commute and enjoy the glorious weather instead. It also taught me to appreciate convenience. Most importantly, though, the tragic misplacement of my keys taught me that for every little action that we make in our lives, there is always one to mirror it in some mysterious way. I do believe that. I believe that whenever we invest in a genuine act of kindness or cruelty, it floats around in the atmosphere until it finds a karma-mate with whom it can attach to and influence you either positively or negatively. It might be totally false. But the saying "do unto others as you would expect them to do unto you" really resonates with me. If everyone lived that way, wouldn't we be free of misery? Who knows. But I'll be the first to give it a try.
Karma and I have settled our trust issues and will have a fabulous future because I will agree to love always. I want to send only acts of kindness into Karma's playing field.
Thank God I didn't have to spend my tip money on a new set of keys.
-Don Ruiz, in The Four Agreements
Karma and I have broken up several times before because of some trust issues. This weekend, we got back together.
About 3 weeks ago, I was on my way to spin class in a gym at Penn State. After I had changed in the bathroom, something shiny caught my eye. The king of all rings suddenly stared me straight in the face. Someone had clearly dropped this precious piece of jewelery by accident, surrendering it to the filth on the bathroom floor. I was immediately overwhelmed with a compelling urge to swipe it.
There have been no other instances of theivery in my past that I can think of. But this ring was fantastic. It was just the perfect size, and the design on it was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. I justified taking it by assuming that someone had left it there by accident and would never come back to look for it anyway. Karma fixed its withering eye upon me as I slipped the shiny silver ring onto my finger.
Three weeks later I lost the keys to my apartment and to my car. They were both on the same key lanyard that had apparently fallen out of my backpack on campus that day. Most people would never think to construct a connection between the two events that I have just described, but because my guilty conscience is so impressively strong I couldn't help but relate these two scenarios. I spent the next two days frantically searching for my keys on campus, tracing every step that I made the day that my keys had disappeared. Know what I found? Someone else's keys. They dangled from a lanyard that was strikingly similar to that of my own set of keys - a situation that Alanis Morisette would have argued was rather "ironic." I was pissed. I actually did a double-take of these keys, hoping that upon second glance I could turn the keys into my own if I stared at them hard enough. Apparently my jedi-mind powers were a little rusty that day.
I kept walking and headed toward the classroom I was en-route to in hopes of reuniting with my own keys when I realized what I had just done. To sparknote the rest of this anecdote, I turned in the keys that I found to the lost-and-found at the center of campus where I thought someone might turn mine it at. I also took my stolen ring off because I figured if some supernatural force was at work here, I might as well take off the karma-infested ring just in case.
The next day, after making about 20 prior efforts to try to locate my stupid keys, I asked the lost-and-found desk at the center of campus if anyone had turned anything in that matched my description again as a final resort. When the lady held up my precious keys I almost lept over the counter to kiss her. Not sure how acceptable that woulda been.
The story sounds incredibly insignificant. But if you choose to learn from any small event in your life instead of just letting it pass you by, you might end up finding meaning in everything. When I found my keys, I put the ring that I had stolen back in the gym on the sink next to where I had found it. Even though I returned it a whole three weeks after I had found the ring, I desperately hoped that maybe some force of nature would alert its rightful owner of the return.
The key crisis "unlocked" a whole set of positive lessons for me. It forced me to stop driving my car to campus every day, which made me get on my tri-bike to commute and enjoy the glorious weather instead. It also taught me to appreciate convenience. Most importantly, though, the tragic misplacement of my keys taught me that for every little action that we make in our lives, there is always one to mirror it in some mysterious way. I do believe that. I believe that whenever we invest in a genuine act of kindness or cruelty, it floats around in the atmosphere until it finds a karma-mate with whom it can attach to and influence you either positively or negatively. It might be totally false. But the saying "do unto others as you would expect them to do unto you" really resonates with me. If everyone lived that way, wouldn't we be free of misery? Who knows. But I'll be the first to give it a try.
Karma and I have settled our trust issues and will have a fabulous future because I will agree to love always. I want to send only acts of kindness into Karma's playing field.
Thank God I didn't have to spend my tip money on a new set of keys.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Toss off the Shoes
"Your feet are your foundation. Wake them up! Make them strong! Connect with the ground."
-Christopher McDougall in Born to Run
Today I risked getting impaled by soaring golf-balls to run barefoot for a few miles on a golf course with a friend. We got a lot of sour looks from the golfers on the course, but the turf was perfect for my first baby-step towards barefoot running.
It's pretty spectacular what happens when you rip off your shoes. The cathartic feeling that accompanies the removal of those cushioned companions can really awaken the senses. It's interesting how we give so much sentimental attention to the human heart and the brain, but we really don't favor our feet in any way. We should. Our feet are our foundation, and they connect us to the earth. We should want to make them strong, make them able to withstand nature's aggressions. But what is there to motivate us? We have shoes to depend on.
There is an entire chapter in Born to Run that focuses solely on proving (through substantial amounts of research) that we were never meant to wear shoes and that less injuries would actually occur if we didn't wear them. Since we've already accustomed our feet to shoes, however, we can no longer just throw them off and expect immediate improvement. You have to take baby steps. This explains the revolutionary birth of the five-finger Vibram shoe. (these are like toe-socks that serve as slim, rubbery shoes).
While I can't exactly envision myself running a marathon in bare feet in the near future (some of my skin is still deciding whether or not it wants to stay on), it was extremely liberating and enjoyable to run just a few miles on a soft surface today with my similarly barefooted friend. Here's why: I forgot about how tired I was because I was concentrating so hard on not introducing my feet to any sharp enemies that may have been lurking on the ground, my feet noticeably got stronger already, and it added a little thrill to my daily running routine.
I was born to run today because I went shoeless and woke up my feet. It felt fantastic.
-Christopher McDougall in Born to Run
Today I risked getting impaled by soaring golf-balls to run barefoot for a few miles on a golf course with a friend. We got a lot of sour looks from the golfers on the course, but the turf was perfect for my first baby-step towards barefoot running.
It's pretty spectacular what happens when you rip off your shoes. The cathartic feeling that accompanies the removal of those cushioned companions can really awaken the senses. It's interesting how we give so much sentimental attention to the human heart and the brain, but we really don't favor our feet in any way. We should. Our feet are our foundation, and they connect us to the earth. We should want to make them strong, make them able to withstand nature's aggressions. But what is there to motivate us? We have shoes to depend on.
There is an entire chapter in Born to Run that focuses solely on proving (through substantial amounts of research) that we were never meant to wear shoes and that less injuries would actually occur if we didn't wear them. Since we've already accustomed our feet to shoes, however, we can no longer just throw them off and expect immediate improvement. You have to take baby steps. This explains the revolutionary birth of the five-finger Vibram shoe. (these are like toe-socks that serve as slim, rubbery shoes).
While I can't exactly envision myself running a marathon in bare feet in the near future (some of my skin is still deciding whether or not it wants to stay on), it was extremely liberating and enjoyable to run just a few miles on a soft surface today with my similarly barefooted friend. Here's why: I forgot about how tired I was because I was concentrating so hard on not introducing my feet to any sharp enemies that may have been lurking on the ground, my feet noticeably got stronger already, and it added a little thrill to my daily running routine.
I was born to run today because I went shoeless and woke up my feet. It felt fantastic.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Feel it All
"My Life is a Controlled Explosion."
-Christopher McDougall in Born to Run
I would like to personally meet Lasse Hallstrom and thank him for directing the movie Chocolat.
The film not only offers an inspiring message concerning the powers of collaboration and community, but it also provides us with several scenes of Johnny Depp at his hottest. This past weekend, my mom and my sister drove three hours to Penn State to take me out to dinner for Easter. After an incredibly delicious Red Lobster feast, we ate some chocolate and watched Chocolat. The smile on my face corresponded with my inner joy as I sat smooshed on my bed with the feminine half of my family watching the movie. I was happy.
Have you ever found it hard to truly experience something because spend a good amount of time thinking about how you should be experiencing it? I'll use an example: I'm sitting at the beach feeling the penetrating warmth of the sun, but thinking constantly about how much I should be enjoying that moment. By the end of the tanning sesh, I realize that I haven't enjoyed myself at all because I have only been thinking about how much I should be enjoying myself. Is happiness learned, or is it instinctual? I feel like sometimes I put happiness on such a high pedistool that I worry too much about not feeling happy enough and then I don't end up enjoying the moment. Maybe I'm a lunatic.
But I don't think it would be totally ignorant to make the assumption that other people spend more time searching for happiness than feeling it too. One of the reasons people do drugs, have sex, or become thrill-seekers is probably because they want to experience an "honest" ecstasy. During a 'high' or a sexual climax, there is really no thought that needs to go into how you feel at that moment. You just feel it. So then people abuse these activities because they like the idea that they can really feel that sense of pure bliss. But what if we could transfer these "honest" feelings into our daily lives, without requiring an outside factor to help us achieve it?
I think when I wake up I am most honest with the way I feel. I don't have to really ponder about the fact that my bed is at that moment the most comfortable place in the world, or that it is only place I'd like to remain for the rest of my life. I just feel it. (Doesn't it seem like bed fairies come into your room in the middle of the night and fluff your pillows and sheets so that when you wake up your bed is 100% more comfortable than when you went to sleep?). I think another time that I feel "honestly" is when my body physically reacts to things - but these are often negative reactions. When my face flushes, I feel embarrassed (this is rare), and when I am shivering, I am pretty freakin cold. I want to know what it would be like to really feel everything the way that I feel these certain things. Its good to reflect on what you feel, but when does reflecting become a meta-cognitive overkill? I guess it comes down to the motto "just be" again. Buddhism sounds more appealing every day.
There are moments when I know that I have genuinely experienced a strong feeling. Some are more obvious, (The thrill of skydiving, heart-break, guilt - [this is the strongest human emotion], having an uncontrollable laugh attack, etc.) and some are more subtle yet no less profound (watching Chocolat while eating chocolate, experiencing a violent urge to get a Mango Gelati, feeling the gloom of a rainy day).
In a more specific recent event, I asked my 4 fellow road-trippers on the way to Florida if they wanted to have a contest to see who could stick their head out of the window on the highway and hold it there the longest. It was exhilirating. I didn't think about that at the time; I just knew that the strong wind in my face and the fairly good chance that a pebble might strike my eyeball made me feel exhilirated. It is just interesting that sometimes I get caught up in reflecting on how I feel while I am trying to feel it. I'd like to transfer the automatic sensations that come over me in certain situations to every day activities. My life would become a controlled explosion. I should try to free my mind and just enjoy the savory taste of Chocolate as I drool over Johnny Depp on the TV screen.
I want to feel it all.
-Christopher McDougall in Born to Run
I would like to personally meet Lasse Hallstrom and thank him for directing the movie Chocolat.
The film not only offers an inspiring message concerning the powers of collaboration and community, but it also provides us with several scenes of Johnny Depp at his hottest. This past weekend, my mom and my sister drove three hours to Penn State to take me out to dinner for Easter. After an incredibly delicious Red Lobster feast, we ate some chocolate and watched Chocolat. The smile on my face corresponded with my inner joy as I sat smooshed on my bed with the feminine half of my family watching the movie. I was happy.
Have you ever found it hard to truly experience something because spend a good amount of time thinking about how you should be experiencing it? I'll use an example: I'm sitting at the beach feeling the penetrating warmth of the sun, but thinking constantly about how much I should be enjoying that moment. By the end of the tanning sesh, I realize that I haven't enjoyed myself at all because I have only been thinking about how much I should be enjoying myself. Is happiness learned, or is it instinctual? I feel like sometimes I put happiness on such a high pedistool that I worry too much about not feeling happy enough and then I don't end up enjoying the moment. Maybe I'm a lunatic.
But I don't think it would be totally ignorant to make the assumption that other people spend more time searching for happiness than feeling it too. One of the reasons people do drugs, have sex, or become thrill-seekers is probably because they want to experience an "honest" ecstasy. During a 'high' or a sexual climax, there is really no thought that needs to go into how you feel at that moment. You just feel it. So then people abuse these activities because they like the idea that they can really feel that sense of pure bliss. But what if we could transfer these "honest" feelings into our daily lives, without requiring an outside factor to help us achieve it?
I think when I wake up I am most honest with the way I feel. I don't have to really ponder about the fact that my bed is at that moment the most comfortable place in the world, or that it is only place I'd like to remain for the rest of my life. I just feel it. (Doesn't it seem like bed fairies come into your room in the middle of the night and fluff your pillows and sheets so that when you wake up your bed is 100% more comfortable than when you went to sleep?). I think another time that I feel "honestly" is when my body physically reacts to things - but these are often negative reactions. When my face flushes, I feel embarrassed (this is rare), and when I am shivering, I am pretty freakin cold. I want to know what it would be like to really feel everything the way that I feel these certain things. Its good to reflect on what you feel, but when does reflecting become a meta-cognitive overkill? I guess it comes down to the motto "just be" again. Buddhism sounds more appealing every day.
There are moments when I know that I have genuinely experienced a strong feeling. Some are more obvious, (The thrill of skydiving, heart-break, guilt - [this is the strongest human emotion], having an uncontrollable laugh attack, etc.) and some are more subtle yet no less profound (watching Chocolat while eating chocolate, experiencing a violent urge to get a Mango Gelati, feeling the gloom of a rainy day).
In a more specific recent event, I asked my 4 fellow road-trippers on the way to Florida if they wanted to have a contest to see who could stick their head out of the window on the highway and hold it there the longest. It was exhilirating. I didn't think about that at the time; I just knew that the strong wind in my face and the fairly good chance that a pebble might strike my eyeball made me feel exhilirated. It is just interesting that sometimes I get caught up in reflecting on how I feel while I am trying to feel it. I'd like to transfer the automatic sensations that come over me in certain situations to every day activities. My life would become a controlled explosion. I should try to free my mind and just enjoy the savory taste of Chocolate as I drool over Johnny Depp on the TV screen.
I want to feel it all.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Embracing the Now
"Just being alive and being ourselves is the biggest fear of humans."
-Don Ruiz, in The Four Agreements
This whole week, I have been saying that I can't wait till Friday.
In comparison to other species, humans devote very little time to living in the present. Dogs really only care about the ball their owner just threw for them or the treat that their salivary glands crave any given moment. Sure some animals store food in preparation for the dreary winter months, but do they ever spend time dwelling on things? Humans dwell. Jewel says, "if I could tell the world just one thing, it would be that we're all okay. Not to worry, cause worry is wasteful and useless in times like these." I'd say that's some pretty sound advice.
We often allow ourselves to be consumed by outside dramas. Just as "Buddha" literally means "awakened one," I think many concepts of buddhism would be truly awakening. If we spend all our lives waiting for the weekend, or waiting until graduation, or waiting until the next promotion, soon we will be just waiting to die and none of it will matter. It really shocks me how I can write so dismally while wearing pink toenail polish and a sequened shirt.
It's so easy to forget to just be. In my acting class at Penn State, we did something that really taught me how to readjust and find my happy place in times of severe stress or anxiety. We were told to lie down on the floor, and take 5 whole minutes to get up. The simplicity of the task coupled with the amount of time you are given to complete it requires extreme concentration and very slow movement. Every movement must be executed with deliberate purpose, because you have 5 whole minutes to stand completely up-right. My teacher said that once she was made to do this for an entire hour.
If we lived life that way, we could feel the immediacy of everything. If we lived in every moment, concentrating only each task we are presented with, while knowing that at any second our time could run out, maybe we could live more fully. In any case, next time you find yourself looking at people but not really hearing what they say because you are too caught up in the stressors of your busy life, try this relaxation technique.
The moment is the only place you really need to be.
-Don Ruiz, in The Four Agreements
This whole week, I have been saying that I can't wait till Friday.
In comparison to other species, humans devote very little time to living in the present. Dogs really only care about the ball their owner just threw for them or the treat that their salivary glands crave any given moment. Sure some animals store food in preparation for the dreary winter months, but do they ever spend time dwelling on things? Humans dwell. Jewel says, "if I could tell the world just one thing, it would be that we're all okay. Not to worry, cause worry is wasteful and useless in times like these." I'd say that's some pretty sound advice.
We often allow ourselves to be consumed by outside dramas. Just as "Buddha" literally means "awakened one," I think many concepts of buddhism would be truly awakening. If we spend all our lives waiting for the weekend, or waiting until graduation, or waiting until the next promotion, soon we will be just waiting to die and none of it will matter. It really shocks me how I can write so dismally while wearing pink toenail polish and a sequened shirt.
It's so easy to forget to just be. In my acting class at Penn State, we did something that really taught me how to readjust and find my happy place in times of severe stress or anxiety. We were told to lie down on the floor, and take 5 whole minutes to get up. The simplicity of the task coupled with the amount of time you are given to complete it requires extreme concentration and very slow movement. Every movement must be executed with deliberate purpose, because you have 5 whole minutes to stand completely up-right. My teacher said that once she was made to do this for an entire hour.
If we lived life that way, we could feel the immediacy of everything. If we lived in every moment, concentrating only each task we are presented with, while knowing that at any second our time could run out, maybe we could live more fully. In any case, next time you find yourself looking at people but not really hearing what they say because you are too caught up in the stressors of your busy life, try this relaxation technique.
The moment is the only place you really need to be.
Monday, April 5, 2010
The Praise Sandwich
"In your whole life, no one has ever abused you more than you have abused yourself."
-Don Ruiz in The Four Agreements
People so often are their own worst enemies.
Why is it that we can practice false compassion to the faces of our friends, but we can never even attempt to mask the honest inner judge that so frequently floods us with insecurities? You would never talk "smack" about someone to their face, but you most likely self-depricate more than you ponder confidence.
An insecurity is nothing but a lie that we choose to believe about ourselves. We let our minds be fertile to an idea that an outside force presents to us at some point, and then the hostile seed grows. Insecurities destroy humankind. At the core of every single issue in the world lies insecurity. Seriously reflect... greed, agression, jealousy, depression, over-compensation... all result because we tell ourselves that we are not "good enough."
In the writing center at Penn State, we are taught to praise. For every error that we correct in someone's paper, we are taught to make two positive remarks. I'll call this the praise sandwich. Praise works faster than criticism in almost every case when it comes to writing. When students are encouraged by their writing skills, enthusiasm emerges and a writer is born. No false praises are acceptable. It is always possible to find something that is genuinely successful in a piece of writing, just as it is always possible to find something that is genuinely good about our characters as people. I'd like to practice doing the praise sandwich whenever I feel one of those negative-nacy thoughts start to fight its way in to the happy jumble of neurons floating around in my head from now on. We wouldn't take the abuse from others, so why should we take it from ourselves? There are special qualities in everyone, because we are all incredibly unique. We can choose to believe the good stuff and detach from ugly insecurities.
I agree to make myself some tasty praise sandwiches whenever the inner judge looms near.
-Don Ruiz in The Four Agreements
People so often are their own worst enemies.
Why is it that we can practice false compassion to the faces of our friends, but we can never even attempt to mask the honest inner judge that so frequently floods us with insecurities? You would never talk "smack" about someone to their face, but you most likely self-depricate more than you ponder confidence.
An insecurity is nothing but a lie that we choose to believe about ourselves. We let our minds be fertile to an idea that an outside force presents to us at some point, and then the hostile seed grows. Insecurities destroy humankind. At the core of every single issue in the world lies insecurity. Seriously reflect... greed, agression, jealousy, depression, over-compensation... all result because we tell ourselves that we are not "good enough."
In the writing center at Penn State, we are taught to praise. For every error that we correct in someone's paper, we are taught to make two positive remarks. I'll call this the praise sandwich. Praise works faster than criticism in almost every case when it comes to writing. When students are encouraged by their writing skills, enthusiasm emerges and a writer is born. No false praises are acceptable. It is always possible to find something that is genuinely successful in a piece of writing, just as it is always possible to find something that is genuinely good about our characters as people. I'd like to practice doing the praise sandwich whenever I feel one of those negative-nacy thoughts start to fight its way in to the happy jumble of neurons floating around in my head from now on. We wouldn't take the abuse from others, so why should we take it from ourselves? There are special qualities in everyone, because we are all incredibly unique. We can choose to believe the good stuff and detach from ugly insecurities.
I agree to make myself some tasty praise sandwiches whenever the inner judge looms near.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Just Run
"Ask nothing from your running, and you will get more than you ever imagined."
-Christopher McDougall in Born to Run
Today was a very Born to Run kind of day.
Last weekend, I conquered the Olympic Triathlon that I had been training for all semester in Clermont, Florida. Because of all the rigorous training that I was doing leading up to the race, I had forgotten what it feels like to love to run. In fact, I hated it. The two track workouts I did before the race made me want to intentionally fall down a staircase so that I would not have to run anymore. Its a good thing there were no stairs nearby.
Today I went out for a run because I wanted to. Not because I felt like I needed to train or burn calories, but just because I felt like running. What a difference. If we ask something of our running, it will most likely result in an injury or a repulsion with the sport. The Raramuri tribes always ran because they loved to run. They expected nothing from it, and they were given everything in return. They were the fastest ultramarathoners in the world, and they had no injuries to slow them down.
I didn't even need a distraction from running today. So often we see people running with i-pod headphones in or watching a television while they are on the tredmill. Why do we need to distract ourselves from something we were born to do? The brain is such a bargain hunter. Our bodies were built to perform, and our minds were built for effeciency. Sometimes it helps to listen to your body, and simplify running to appreciate it more. While I was trotting along the beautiful sunlit path on my trail-run today, I heard the faintest trace of a bird chirp. When I turned to investigate the source of the noise, I saw a beautiful red robin. If my i-pod was in, I wouldn't have seen it. I connected with nature today because I asked nothing from my running. It required no distraction or any true physical strain. There's a certain beauty that comes from doing something you love just because you love doing it.
Today I was born to run.
-Christopher McDougall in Born to Run
Today was a very Born to Run kind of day.
Last weekend, I conquered the Olympic Triathlon that I had been training for all semester in Clermont, Florida. Because of all the rigorous training that I was doing leading up to the race, I had forgotten what it feels like to love to run. In fact, I hated it. The two track workouts I did before the race made me want to intentionally fall down a staircase so that I would not have to run anymore. Its a good thing there were no stairs nearby.
Today I went out for a run because I wanted to. Not because I felt like I needed to train or burn calories, but just because I felt like running. What a difference. If we ask something of our running, it will most likely result in an injury or a repulsion with the sport. The Raramuri tribes always ran because they loved to run. They expected nothing from it, and they were given everything in return. They were the fastest ultramarathoners in the world, and they had no injuries to slow them down.
I didn't even need a distraction from running today. So often we see people running with i-pod headphones in or watching a television while they are on the tredmill. Why do we need to distract ourselves from something we were born to do? The brain is such a bargain hunter. Our bodies were built to perform, and our minds were built for effeciency. Sometimes it helps to listen to your body, and simplify running to appreciate it more. While I was trotting along the beautiful sunlit path on my trail-run today, I heard the faintest trace of a bird chirp. When I turned to investigate the source of the noise, I saw a beautiful red robin. If my i-pod was in, I wouldn't have seen it. I connected with nature today because I asked nothing from my running. It required no distraction or any true physical strain. There's a certain beauty that comes from doing something you love just because you love doing it.
Today I was born to run.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
An Encouraging Cheer
"The word is the most powerful tool you have as a human; it is the tool of magic."
-Don Ruiz, in The Four Agreements
Today was the kick-off day for my new Raramuri-Ruiz lifestyle. It was the perfect start.
I volunteered with my Triathlon Club this morning at a 5k that we have for Penn Staters called the Lactic Acid 5k to fundraise money for Tri club. Last year I volunteered on the course to stand in one spot and direct the runners on which way to turn, so I thought I'd do the same this year. The difference was that this year my throat hurt a little bit afterward from cheering so hard.
I stood in my little spot about halfway through the 3 mile course right beneath a steep hill which I was to direct them to run up. Before the first runner came through, I focused pretty hard on improving my juggling skills with three nearby rocks. I discovered that rocks are not ideal juggling tools after one hit me in the chin. The first runner came through looking like Leonitis from 300. He was ripped and fast. I cheered, but it was a weak cheer.
Then I thought of Don Ruiz's first agreement. He considers the power of word to be one of humanty's greatest gifts if it is used correctly. So I thought, 'how could I make each runner's day a little bit better by just using my words?' I was in the perfect place for some quality cheering, because they had to pump straight up a hill after they saw my smiling face. So I stepped up my game. It upset me that I didn't know everyone's name, but I wanted to make the cheers personal. Instead of inventing names like I wanted to do (I'm pretty good at guessing a person's name by their face), I started shouting out their numbers. I put all the energy I had into cheering for these people who came out on a beautiful day to work their butts off.
"Go 52! 103, you look fantastic! Attack this hill 4 & 5!!" I probably looked like an idiot. But who cares? They loved it. I don't know if I have ever been more appreciated. So many smiles were thrown my way and plenty of appreciative thank yous and nods were delivered as well. It felt good to make the race just a little bit better for a good amount of people. The ones who struggled the most appreciated me the most. Good for them to come out and do something they clearly did not want to do. They got the loudest cheers.
The word is a powerful, powerful thing.
-Don Ruiz, in The Four Agreements
Today was the kick-off day for my new Raramuri-Ruiz lifestyle. It was the perfect start.
I volunteered with my Triathlon Club this morning at a 5k that we have for Penn Staters called the Lactic Acid 5k to fundraise money for Tri club. Last year I volunteered on the course to stand in one spot and direct the runners on which way to turn, so I thought I'd do the same this year. The difference was that this year my throat hurt a little bit afterward from cheering so hard.
I stood in my little spot about halfway through the 3 mile course right beneath a steep hill which I was to direct them to run up. Before the first runner came through, I focused pretty hard on improving my juggling skills with three nearby rocks. I discovered that rocks are not ideal juggling tools after one hit me in the chin. The first runner came through looking like Leonitis from 300. He was ripped and fast. I cheered, but it was a weak cheer.
Then I thought of Don Ruiz's first agreement. He considers the power of word to be one of humanty's greatest gifts if it is used correctly. So I thought, 'how could I make each runner's day a little bit better by just using my words?' I was in the perfect place for some quality cheering, because they had to pump straight up a hill after they saw my smiling face. So I stepped up my game. It upset me that I didn't know everyone's name, but I wanted to make the cheers personal. Instead of inventing names like I wanted to do (I'm pretty good at guessing a person's name by their face), I started shouting out their numbers. I put all the energy I had into cheering for these people who came out on a beautiful day to work their butts off.
"Go 52! 103, you look fantastic! Attack this hill 4 & 5!!" I probably looked like an idiot. But who cares? They loved it. I don't know if I have ever been more appreciated. So many smiles were thrown my way and plenty of appreciative thank yous and nods were delivered as well. It felt good to make the race just a little bit better for a good amount of people. The ones who struggled the most appreciated me the most. Good for them to come out and do something they clearly did not want to do. They got the loudest cheers.
The word is a powerful, powerful thing.
Friday, April 2, 2010
The Adventure Begins...
To invigorate means to energize or to fill with life and energy. What would life be like if I could invigorate the ordinary?
I should probably start off by explaining my intentions for this blog. There are really two purposes for starting this that I've narrowed it down to. First, I really want to try to live my life as a sort of hybrid of my two favorite books. I am optimistically hoping that by nurturing this blog I will receive the motivational kick in the butt that I need to really start applying this stuff to my everyday life. It could be a really powerful thing.
I also believe in the power of influence. The reason I that want to teach and coach one day is because I want to connect with as many people as I can and try to be a positive influence on others. It might just be the extra X chromosome in me talking, but there's nothing I value more than the relationships that I form in my life. So I thought that even if one person reads a little anecdote I throw in one day and smiles a little, the magic of influence could prosper even in cyber-land.
It also seems fair that I should summarize the books that I will allude to so frequently on this page. Born to Run by Christopher McDougall is an unbelievably inspiring narration that showcases the epic adventures of the world's greatest distance runners. It reveals that everything we thought we knew about running is totally false and familiarizes us with an astonishing secret tribe of athletes called the rarámuri/tarahumara, or the "running people."
The Four Agreements by Don Ruiz is a life-changing masterpiece that offers ideas from the ancient Toltec wisdom of the native people of Southern Mexico. His four agreements are elaborated on beautifully throughout the novel, but can be summed up as the following:
1. Be impeccable with your word - Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.
2. Don’t take anything personally - Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.
3.Don’t make assumptions - Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.
4. Always do your best - Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse and regret.
By applying the ideas of these two works into my everyday life, I hope to live a very happy and meaningful life. I realize this is rather ambitious and also dangerously cliché, but why not experiment and see if it could turn out to be more than just a naive aspiration.
I chose the word 'adventure' for my title very carefully. Whenever I think of adventure I think of Peter Pan; there's a dude who knows how to make things fun. Why can't every day be an adventure? The word implies excitement, exhiliration, and joy. I want to suck all the marrow out of life Thoreau-style. According to Mr. Pan, "to live would be an awfully big adventure."
Let's do it.
I should probably start off by explaining my intentions for this blog. There are really two purposes for starting this that I've narrowed it down to. First, I really want to try to live my life as a sort of hybrid of my two favorite books. I am optimistically hoping that by nurturing this blog I will receive the motivational kick in the butt that I need to really start applying this stuff to my everyday life. It could be a really powerful thing.
I also believe in the power of influence. The reason I that want to teach and coach one day is because I want to connect with as many people as I can and try to be a positive influence on others. It might just be the extra X chromosome in me talking, but there's nothing I value more than the relationships that I form in my life. So I thought that even if one person reads a little anecdote I throw in one day and smiles a little, the magic of influence could prosper even in cyber-land.
It also seems fair that I should summarize the books that I will allude to so frequently on this page. Born to Run by Christopher McDougall is an unbelievably inspiring narration that showcases the epic adventures of the world's greatest distance runners. It reveals that everything we thought we knew about running is totally false and familiarizes us with an astonishing secret tribe of athletes called the rarámuri/tarahumara, or the "running people."
The Four Agreements by Don Ruiz is a life-changing masterpiece that offers ideas from the ancient Toltec wisdom of the native people of Southern Mexico. His four agreements are elaborated on beautifully throughout the novel, but can be summed up as the following:
1. Be impeccable with your word - Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.
2. Don’t take anything personally - Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.
3.Don’t make assumptions - Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.
4. Always do your best - Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse and regret.
By applying the ideas of these two works into my everyday life, I hope to live a very happy and meaningful life. I realize this is rather ambitious and also dangerously cliché, but why not experiment and see if it could turn out to be more than just a naive aspiration.
I chose the word 'adventure' for my title very carefully. Whenever I think of adventure I think of Peter Pan; there's a dude who knows how to make things fun. Why can't every day be an adventure? The word implies excitement, exhiliration, and joy. I want to suck all the marrow out of life Thoreau-style. According to Mr. Pan, "to live would be an awfully big adventure."
Let's do it.
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