Insidious Adaptation

Why must it be like this? Why can I not just have my cake and eat it too? Why must there be this tether to the middle preventing me from going too far in one direction, no matter the motive, yanking me back with a painful reminder of my imbalance? I only want to eat a little more, or workout a little less, things that my logical mind knows it has to do, but the other part of me, my emotional side, says “no.” This battle, like two divorced parents fighting for custody simply to spite the other, weighs in my mind like a stone unmovable. No, I will not wake up one day, skip the gym and lack anxiety about getting fat later, and no I will not go to the gym excessively and not be fatigued or consumed by old behaviors, no matter how much I romanticize a return to the 2-hour gym sessions twice a day. Neither of these will occur, nor will I ever rid my mind of this part of me, as apparent as my own personality. In fact, it is my personality, my temperament even, for man does not compartmentali...

The pile is growing now, reminders of a food no longer stimulating enough to satisfy, more so a reflection of my indulgent self, alive and well. As time goes, decisions are made, and I inevitably become leaner in the process, I notice it. I feel the tinge of desire, one only processed foods seems to fill, one I cannot satisfy doing what I am doing now. That, right there, this pile of empty sweetener packets reminds me, if I allow it to set in, that I am not doing so well.  It’s a subtle thing really, to look at behaviors with minor internal consequences, easily overlooked as, "not that bad." It’s hard to take a look at behaviors, so easily justified, and hold myself to this stringent standard because I do know better. I took the blue pill after all, I followed the rabbit hole down as far as I could, I had to look at the Lost Arc, only to have my mind changed, forever. Ignorance is no longer a friend of mine. At one time, he was a friend, a best friend in fact, authen...

The evening, a time at the end of a work day. Nothing significant, only another day at work, neither "good" nor "bad." Sometimes, after work, my mood is organically upbeat, not stimulated by some "good idea" or caffeine. Rather, I have my moments where things are good and I like those moments. Sometimes, however the night seems dreary, a continuation of the work day, despite my best efforts to see otherwise. Some days after work be like... The mind racing, thinking and interpreting things a certain way, a way that interferes sometimes, enhances others, but overall has to be accepted as "the hand I was dealt." I like quotes, for they encompass something I might never have captured. I quote people because then it takes some of the stress off of me to explain, after all, someone else more prominent wrote it, so there it is. The mind likes concrete concepts. Unfortunately, life is not concrete. Life isn't even as solid as Jell-O.  Life ...

What happens when it’s all gone, taken away like the heart in your chest? When what you once were is no more? How do we keep advancing in the face of pointlessness? When we identify ourselves as something of value, whether it be a job title, an achievement, our style, our spirituality, service work, when that "thing" goes away? If we choose it to go away because we are now devoted to another definition, then that seems to be a smoother transition. What happens when we don’t choose it, when it is taken from us? The body has an expiration date, something we were made aware of as soon as we became aware. Death is a lingering curtain on our stage waiting to drop at any moment. Some get the slow closing of the final goodbye, many get an immediate shut. The curtain closing isn’t the problem, it is when the physical self defines us and it is when this thing starts to expire more than grow.  Aesthetically pleasing bodies are definitely something to look at. They grab our att...

When I watch my daughter play with her toys I am able to see a side of myself in her response. Unfortunately, the most I see of me in her is in the negative responses, the ones where she becomes upset when things do not go as she expected them to. Even the seemingly difficult to understand situations such as saying she wanted a car, only to give her the car and have her cry. I am not that surprised however, I know she wanted the car in another way, like being lifted up to get the car herself. I know this because I am this. We both appear to want something, but it’s not the thing we want, but the manner in which we obtain that thing. I am as particular in my mind as she presents in her temper tantrums. I give a face as though I am confused in these behaviors to my wife to validate the ridiculousness of it all, however there is a part of me, inside, deep in there, that gets it. I get why she’s upset just like we all might at one point or another when something that we expected with a ce...

My insides crawl when I see you. I see you over there on that bench, with your new workout gear, your matching headphones on head and a slump about you that tells me just enough. Sadly, you are just like me. I can see it from a mile away. You sit up like you are arrogant, but yet, you have a little curvature and shifty eyes that tell me otherwise. You have not yet learned how to control the eye movements. How to look with the peripherals. You focus directly on targets. Targets that you feel will make YOU better. You disgust me, for you give us away. You tell the world that we, despite our external presentations, are weak and need something, somebody, to be good enough. I know the look, even the familiarity with your environment. You are not new here, you come here every day. You figured out a long time ago that going to the gym, sacrificing a little bit of indulgence to look better, will make you better. Sure, it did what you thought it would, you definitely feel confident enough in...