Insidious Adaptation

A catch in the lower back, aesthetically, in the butt, for the pain is below my waist band. When I push on the area I can feel the tighten ball of inflammation, a spot and feeling I am very familiar with. This pain was self-induced, for I went too far, too long, "too hard?" shall I say. It comes and goes like a pain in my trapezius or the upper portion of my back. Never anything major, just a pain, a sensitivity reminding me of my limits. I had no plans for a change in routine for I get aches and pains often and figure if you let those stop you in life then you might as well just stay in bed. I went to the gym with the intent to lift the lower half of my extremities, legs. Now, the legs portion of a workout involves, though it is not necessarily supposed to, a lot of lower back. Simple things from shifting weight to an initial oomph to get the bar off the rack, more prevalent than one would take note. What I noticed on this trip to the ever-so-busy gym, even at 4:30 in t...

In a house recently purchased, heated to comfort, in clothes recently cleaned, with a sippy-cup full of organic cream and milk, while a pure-bread dog sleeps at the foot of a recently purchased couch, as a 55-inch TV displays the high definition cooking show, a child, healthy in both brain and lungs apparently, throws down her baby in what her parents can best describe as “boredom.” This child’s evening has not gone so well thus far, from getting picked up by a mom whom is understanding, healthy, beautiful, from a day care that is caring, loving, intimate, this child demanded stimulation due to having an abundance all day. It appears to no longer suffice merely haveing people listen to what ever jumbled sentence a 2-year-old’s mind can put together, but she requires stimulation as well. No longer does mere existence excite the family, but discipline and progression past fits of tantrums are the new standard.   An evening of ups and downs the child seems easily agitated by thin...

Fuming in a meeting or annoyed at what I feel to be provoking comments in the hall.The parts I see, I am unaware specifically as to what they are, but I notice something, something I don’t like, something rather, distasteful.  “Why don’t you just…”  I’m not sure how to finish that sentence because I am not exactly sure what it is you are doing, or what overall quality you exude that I just cannot stand. Maybe it’s the way you dress differently than I do, or the way you cut me off in mid sentence. Yea, that’s what it is. You are rude, inconsiderate, and well, wait, you are just being honest, your words aren’t really there to “cut me off.” OK, so you do have some genuine parts to you, authenticity that I lack, that I will admit.  OH MY GOSH! Now I am embarrassed. You are more of what I lack, and it took me months of justifying me right and you wrong to see what was right in front of me. I see in you what it is I want to see in myself, being authentic in al...

A bit of sarcasm rings from the wall of Face as I read comment after comment indicating relevance. I am the most guilty, for I do not even produce organic material. Instead, I regurgitate partially digested pieces of information I have gathered from everything from C.S. Lewis, to the Bible, all the way to the new 2 Chains song. I am a fellow of many hats for I had learned to adapt early on in life. My authentic self now, a softer, milder, less-demanding version, for I no longer rely on your attention to complete me, combats the inauthentic or prideful self, daily, hourly in fact. Self-Promotion is not my strong point, however when a book is published and there were a lot of people involved in it's development, I owe it not only to me and the numerous hours of work and sacrifice, but to the researchers who contributed their time in both phone and email responses, a spouse and daughter whom received a more tired version of their man, the publisher who found the work and decided t...

Influence has a way of altering our standard. Initially, our acts are noble and glorified, with influence, we see that our acts were not as favorable as originally thought to be. An idea of "higher standards," while in its infancy, impossible, for we can only do as well as we know with what we know at the time of doing it. Once we learn more or better ways to perform and identify underlying motives, the standard, just like our threshold of knowledge, also elevates. A plethora of information at our fingertips, self-help books, spiritual teachings, on-line material, counselors, healers, the Bible with the Psalms as a steady resource (not in this order I hope) are all here. Information to saturate the senses, overwhelm the mind with expectations of the highest caliber, and a self that is seemingly incapable of even a minuscule amount of achievement. His gift to us.  We are not incapable beings overall, however we are merely incapable of what is being asked of us. We are at ...

Honestly, I am writing this as I have just eaten a can of fish, some of those zucchini noodles, and a few too many nuts for my own liking, trying to avoid eating more because for some reason it didn't seem to suffice. It was as though I was waiting for something, some texture, some misplaced ingredient that I craved and filled on alternatives, like a pitcher with a strong fast ball, walking the batter. Nutritionally, there were the fats, the proteins, carbs were low, but I've done that for a while now, so it's not that big of a deal. It had been about four hours since the last meal, which isn't anything to write about, except here of course, where one's mind is allowed to roam. One thing worthy of note is the irritability I have experienced the past few days. A frustration in getting things done. I am able to accomplish my tasks, yet I have no hope they will be any good. The struggle has been real, in other words, a sort of muddy feel to my days, all with a fa...

The standards that once sufficed as a remedy for a deeper problem, a missed attempt to resolve, no longer enough. A “higher” standard, a “better” person, more resolve, more passion, essentially all driven by more will. Our will? The same will that led us here, this place of necessary resolve, a recognition of a fault that needs altered to avoid further consequences imposed by ourselves? If WILL could get us there, then why, again, are we here? Why must we even have to state a claim of needing to change any external part, if the internal desire and will to change was enough? Why must me make this bold claim of change, when in actuality, we change nothing at all. We presume that the next time we want something, we will say no, we will reject that desire with such a will and determination to alter ourselves, that the formerly problematic desire will cower to our wills, run away crying at our demanding self. We demand change, we will it. Yet, here we are, another year, a few ...