Own Your PathCreating and Maintaining Balance

This week, I started doing something again that I thought I had been doing all along, but realized this past weekend I wasn’t.

For the majority of the past 9 years, I have gone to Starbucks with my dogs and sat outside drinking my coffee, facing the Sun.  During my “coffee time,” I did nothing.  Well, visibly nothing, anyway.  What I didn’t realize was that such a ritual had turned into a daily meditation where I was able to work out several aspects of my life, ranging from daily routine issues to deep introspective epiphanies; the fact that I was also absorbing Vitamin D was merely a bonus.

For the past year, while I thought I was doing this, I realized that I really wasn’t.  My daily meditation had turned into a “Words with Friends” session and NY Times reading time, due to my ownership of a smart phone.  (Although I will not go into how technology bringing the world to our fingertips can potentially negatively affect our lives, it certainly is food for thought.)

 This week, I decided to put my phone away while in my “coffee time.”

In just the second day of “coffee sans phone,” the influx of thoughts and realizations has been overwhelming!

One particular thought that I wanted to ensure I didn’t readily forget was a gift I received from a dear friend several years ago.  It was a simple bracelet with a stone upon which the words “I am…” were engraved on.  What I understood the purpose of the bracelet to be was a daily personal reminder of who we are or like to be.  I’m certain others had different uses for it, but that was mine.  I distinctly recall that during my ownership of the bracelet—the string eventually wore down—I repeated to myself every day “I am…a knot on the net.”

“I am…a knot on the net.”

This went on for a couple of years, and it had become my personal mantra.  It had such a profound meaning for me that it was even the subject of one of first blogs, and the inspiration for this site.  (http://www.ownyourpath.org/lift-your-knot)

What troubled me this morning was that while I remembered the bracelet and the words on it, I couldn’t remember the words that I had added to it, the words that once were the core of my daily mantra.  It took me well over five minutes to recall the words.  Now, five minutes may not seem like a long time, but when referring to how long it took to remember something that was my core belief for nearly two years, it felt like an eternity.

When I look back at that period of my life, I can’t help but smile.  My life was bliss.  I distinctly recall thanking the universe for everything that I had, and felt extremely lucky for it.

I am far from that place right now, and I can feel it.  I am being dishonest about my situation, not only to others, but to myself as well.

As I scan through my past blogs and read about subjects that I wrote two years ago that directly apply to issues I find myself battling today, I can’t help but feel like a complete moron.

How far have I succumbed into the depths of personal imbalance?

I don’t know.

But I am aware now.

In coming up with an appropriate title for this post, I went through several iterations of thoughts, until I came to the one that offered me one additional epiphany.  A phoenix is a mythical bird, found in the Arabian, Persian, Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Chinese, Indian and reputedly Phoenician mythologies.  They all agree on a simple premise:  At the end of its lifecycle, the phoenix builds itself a nest of twigs that then ignites; both nest and bird burn fiercely and are reduced to ashes, from which a new, young phoenix arises, reborn anew to live again.

What’s not intuitive but still implicit is that the in order to be reborn, one must be reduced to ashes first.

 While I was writing this blog, the building’s fire alarms were triggered, and I had to evacuate.  While I was outside, bitter about not being able to work on this blog, I uttered a comment like “some idiot doing something stupid.”  Within seconds I realized the negativity of my remark, which only further illustrates where I find myself currently in.  I vow to correct this; I just hope I can easily dust off the ashes.

Two things happened within the past two days that simply exacerbated a growing disgust I had been developing for Congress.

Senator Dick Durbin (D-IL) was on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart on Thursday.  During the interview, he stated that there were members of the Senate that “like war, like waging war, like the notion of staying at war, like spending money on war.”

The second was having our nation’s credit rating downgraded from AAA to AA+.

These issues may seem unrelated, and some may consider it a stretch to connect them here.  Perhaps, but this is where I present my opinions.

Having been raised within the Department of Defense, spent eleven years in the military, and with friends still serving, I am very sensitive to the general treatment of our service members.  The United States Armed Forces is a collection of institutions that  in addition to securing our nation—a task they have performed extraordinarily well for over a century—also provides lower-income families an opportunity at a better life.  (If you don’t understand how this is so, I can explain, but not here.)

The decision to join our nation’s Armed Forces is not a light one.  Regardless of motivation, becoming a member of the military—a voluntary act—is accepting the risk that one may be asked to give up one’s life for the greater interest of national security.

At times, preserving our national security has had secondary effects beneficial to other countries, such as ending targeted persecution such as in World War II and more recently the Balkans, liberating countries from the clutches of oppression, fascist and communist, and even enabling the continued existence of smaller countries bullied by larger ones, such as in the first Gulf War.

I mention that these are secondary benefits because make no mistake in believing that those were not the primary objectives of our nation’s actions.  We were acting in the interest of preserving our national security.

In exchange for volunteering to potentially lose one’s life in the interest of national security, the men and women of our Armed Forces implicitly trust that our nation’s leadership will do their best to keep them out of harm’s way as best as possible.  Just because someone is willing to risk their life the greater interest doesn’t mean that such a life needs to be risked; only if absolutely necessary.

As such, a patriot’s duty to the courageous men and women who unselfishly fight our nation’s wars is simply to bring them home as soon as possible.

By no means does “bring them home” mean “keep them home.”  War is still, unfortunately, the last resort to preserve our national security, although only when diplomacy fails.  All avenues must be exhausted before war is even considered.  When war is inevitable, our nation’s volunteers—the best of us—will have to fight that war.  But, mindful of the trust that our soldiers have placed upon our leadership, such wars should last no longer than necessary to achieve primary objectives.  (Secondary benefits are nice, but not required.)

Wars cost money.  A lot of money.  Okay, I don’t have numbers, but I’m willing to bet that over time, they are much more expensive than diplomacy.  I like to believe that I’m not naïve enough to believe that our nation’s wars are the sole reason behind our economic problems—especially our debt—although I do believe they do significantly contribute to it.

Yesterday, our credit rating was downgraded from AAA to AA+.  Despite any “mathematical errors,” what I read in the New York Times this morning was that the decision to downgrade was a “judgment about the nation’s leaders, writing that the “the gulf between the political parties” had reduced its confidence in the government’s ability to manage its finances.”

Downgrading our credit rating may not mean that much.  I will admit that my ignorance on global economics is vast, and all that I can understand is that the direct result is that our nation’s future debt will cost more.  The implications of that is that—I think—it’ll take longer to pay our debt.  Again, my ignorant mind expects that this will inevitably trickle down to us in some form. We’ll see.  I am still disappointed in the shameful antics displayed by Congress that led us up to this.

However, when I hear that members of Congress, quoting Senator Dick Durbin, “like war, like waging war, like the notion of staying at war, like spending money on war,” I am simply disgusted.  Not because of the fiscal irresponsibility I believe they are demonstrating—that just makes them idiots in my mind—but by the dishonor they are openly demonstrating to our service members.  In addition to idiots, now I think they’re assholes.  Shame on you.

While I do believe that our nation’s legislative branch is mostly to blame, this does not excuse our executive branch, which chose to extend the wars of “dubious” objectives started by the previous administration.

I do believe in our system of government—the three branches providing the necessary checks and balances that preserve the freedom of our citizens from the oppression of government—is the best in the world, but I have lost faith in all of our elected officials currently in office, especially when they no longer support our troops.  Therefore, I call for patriots to use our democratic process and vote out the incumbents, regardless of political party affiliations, in an attempt to hopefully renew the government with people with the same sense of duty and responsibility to our nation as displayed by the very best of us, the courageous men and women of our Armed Forces.

Note:  The ideas presented here are not mine.  I am personally incapable of original thoughts.  As an engineer, my ability lies in taking the ideas of others, turn them upside down, inside out, push it, pull it, smash it, analyze each little piece, put it together again, et al.  Once I have gathered enough perspectives, I combine it with another idea that has undergone the same process, and examine what such a combination yields.  Most of the time, it yields crap.  Sometimes, there will be an idea that may have some merit, as I think this combination does.  I have not disclosed the sources of the ideas that formed the bases for this blog, as I have not yet received direct permission from them to do so.  If you are interested in the sources, please let me know, and upon consent from the original authors, I will privately share them.

Very early in my very short martial arts “life,” my teacher—at the time—talked about suki.  Of the many definitions of suki, the one that captured the basic premise of that evening’s lesson was:

Suki:  chance or opportunity, chink (in one’s armor)

The concept—as I understood it—being taught was that confrontations are typically “turn-based,” that is, the first person strikes, the second person receives, the second person strikes, the first person receives, ad nauseum.  However, in Koryu, the aim is to create suki—opportunities—that ultimately deny the other person’s “turn” to strike, essentially turning the confrontation to the first person strikes, the first person strikes, the first person strikes.  As Koryu, budo taijutsu aims to teach us to think this way.

For the past three years, this has been a dominating thought in my personal training, but I have never been able to develop an adequate analogy that could successfully convey the idea.

I recently read a blog written from a Bujinkan instructor I deeply respect—who has already been the catalyst for other key epiphanies I’ve had—that provided such a clear analogy that I would be foolish to look for a better one.

Tennis versus pool.

Many—if not most—martial arts, especially competitive ones, are much like tennis matches:  both sides are given the same set of conditions as well as the opportunity to react to the opponent’s actions.  In addition to ability, the victor will also likely be influenced by speed and strength.

What we are trying to learn with budo taijutsu, however, is not to become tennis players, but to become pool sharks instead.

When playing pool, it is one person’s turn as long as that person can retain it, or until that person “screws up.”  Pool does depend on ability, but speed and strength are not only irrelevant, they can be used against one.

The objective of pool is to end the game as soon as possible, and if the opponent doesn’t get a turn, the chances of being the victor are considerably improved, although never guaranteed.  There is always a chance—albeit small—that each shot may fail.  As such, not only should the opponent not get a turn, but to minimize the chances of failure, the fewest number shots should be taken.

My interpretation of the purpose of budo taijutsu is that the ultimate objective is always to get home.  Home is where loved ones are and where I’m most comfortable at.  I believe that any action that delays one from getting home is not congruent with the spirit of budo taijutsu.  A martial art that influences one to “stick around” during a confrontation is either ego-based—such as sports or competition-oriented disciplines—or duty-based—such as those taught to military infantry or law enforcement, whose job it is to “stick around.”  Sticking around can get you hurt.  Sticking around can get you arrested.  Sticking around can get you killed.

Just as there is no guaranteed pool shot, there is also no guaranteed budo taijutsu technique.  It is my belief that budo taijutsu teaches us techniques with higher-than-average chances of success, and the purpose of training is to increase the chances, but there will never be any single move that works 100% of the time.  (If there was, why learn anything else but that single move?)  The more moves it takes one to “go home,” the lower the chance to actually “go home.”

Mathematically, three consecutive “99% moves” yields a 3% chance of failure; four such moves yield a 4% chance of failure.  For those that learn better graphically:

Personally, I’m a big believer of the “80-20” rule, which means that my first—not necessarily final—objective is always to reach 80%.  If I apply the “80-20” rule to myself, that means that in order to give myself a minimum of 80% chance of “survival,” I can’t use more than two 90% moves.  If I train very, very, very hard, and am able to guarantee “95% moves,” I’m still limited to 4-5 moves.  Of course, that is assuming that every move has the same “guaranteed” success rate, which is simply not realistic.  (Anyone that claims they can do or even teach a technique with a guaranteed chance of success is simply full of crap; I’m using the charts to help illustrate a point.)  The bigger assumption is that I’m actually even able to do any move with a 90% chance of success.  Hell, in my short life as a martial artist, I doubt I can reliably maintain a 55% average.

For an interesting opinion on “real” self-defense, read Marc MacYoung’s website, specifically the discussion on martial arts as self-defense.

http://www.nononsenseselfdefense.com/AreMASD.htm

The paragraph that gripped me was:

Our standard for an effective self-defense strategy is that it gets you out of danger in three moves or less (under five seconds is another way of looking at it). If it can’t do that (or doesn’t teach that) then it is a sports style that someone is trying to sell as self-defense.

In my opinion, the first strategy for any confrontation is to not be in one.  However, due to the unpredictable nature of violence, that choice is sometimes taken from us.  Hopefully, that will never happen, but if when it does, the strategy then becomes not only to go home, but to go home taking the “fewest shots” as possible.

What is your reliable chance of success?

Overall, with all aspects of life thrown in, this year has been a difficult year for me.  Way too much stress, way too many things going on.

However, looking at individual components, some areas of life this year do shine in such a way that has kept the year a good one.  Specifically, my martial arts training, and the epiphanies I had during the summer.

I’m not the smartest guy around, so I like to keep things simple.  As such, in my martial arts training, I try to simplify concepts, usually to something in the Tenchijin, but sometimes, at the risk of oversimplification, even beyond.

The first epiphany was a statement that one of the instructors made during the first Colorado regional training.  There was a great turnout, and several new faces were introduced.  During the regional training, one of the instructors said that every ninjutsu “move” could be divided into three distinct stages:

1.       Protect your centerline

2.       Take the opponent’s balance.

3.       Tenderize as desired.

Pretty simple.  Now when I look at any technique, I “judge” it by this new standard.  If a “move” takes too much time, it’s because it doesn’t follow these parts.  From what I’ve learned in my short three years, ninjutsu is not about “sticking around,” it’s about “going home.”  The longer one sticks around, the lower the chances of getting home.  Epiphany!

This epiphany eventually led to the next one:  The purpose of the kihon happo.  Over the years, I’ve seen “lists” of the techniques considered “kihon happo.”  Some lists are more inclusive than others, and I never understood the reasons, nor had I received a satisfactory explanation of the differences.  However, everyone agreed that the kihon happo is important, and rightly so.

But what is it for?  Well, when I intersected the kihon happo with the three stages of a technique, it became obvious to me—perhaps incorrectly, but it has so far helped me immensely—that the kihon happo fit nicely into the second stage, “take the opponent’s balance.”  That was it!  If instead of looking at the individual techniques within the kihon happo individually, I look at them as basic techniques for taking the opponent’s balance, the kihon happo takes on a completely new meaning (for me.)  Now, I don’t see Omote Gyaku as a brutal technique to potentially break a wrist; I use it to take the opponent’s balance.  (I can always use it again in stage 3.)  I began testing the techniques in the kihon happo, but with a different focus, and this is what I found:

There are three techniques that have exactly the same effect on the opponent’s shoulder (and thus the spine.)  These are:

• Omote Gyaku
• Oni Kudaki
• Musha Dori

These techniques all have the effect of seemingly “opening” up the opponent.  (If you look at the opponent when these techniques are applied to them, their spine ends up nearly in the same position.)  I have come to refer to these three techniques as the “omotes” in the kihon happo.  (These terms are for my edification only, and are not “official” terms by any means…)

Three other techniques also have the same effect on the opponent:

• Ura Gyaku
• Muso Dori
• Ganseki Nage

These techniques all have the effect of rolling the opponents shoulder forward and “closing” the opponent.  I refer to these techniques as the “uras” of the kihon happo.  (Again, for my edification only…)

Additionally, when you look at the above six techniques from the perspective of locations on the body, they only “touch” three distinct points in the opponent’s arm:

• Wrist
• Elbow
• Shoulder

Processing and working with these concepts over the summer, I came up with the very basic chart:

The above chart—which should only be construed as a personal training tool—hopefully illustrates just how basic the techniques in the kihon happo are.  They weren’t just randomly chosen.  Yes, individually, they are all powerful techniques, but within the kihon happo, they just may be potentially grouped for a reason, which at my point in my training, seem to be to take the opponent’s balance.  The fact that the kihon happo is found in the Ten Ryaku no Maku—and that taking balance is the second stage of a technique—lends credence to this, in my humble opinion.

But that still leaves three kamae in the kihon happo:

• Ichimonji no kamae
• Jumonji no kamae
• Hicho no kamae

Of all the available kamae, the inclusion of this subset into the kihon happo must have some significance beyond the basic definition of “kamae.”  In the spirit of simplicity, if the previous six techniques in the kihon happo can be taken into the context of taking the opponent’s balance, then it is possible that the inclusion of the three kamae into the kihon happo is to provoke the study of how to use these specific kamae to take the opponent’s balance, essentially progressing the idea of kamae from a “static” idea to a dynamic one.

So over the summer, the kihon happo—in my limited understanding—evolved from a “list of basics” to a grouping of basic concepts, most of which I have been able to glean a rudimentary understanding from.  Epiphany!

However, I must admit that during the three years that the kihon happo has been taught to me, I always struggled with hicho no kamae.

Why is this strange-looking kamae in the kihon happo?  Who would stand in that way?  I admit that I have always looked at hicho no kamae as the red-headed stepchild of kamae.  I also got the impression that I wasn’t alone.  (I also apologize to any red-headed stepchildren that may be reading this post for the comparison.)

When taught to me by several instructors, the “definition” of hicho no kamae seemed to focus on the “lifted” leg, the “kicking” leg.  However, during the last seminar of the summer, the instructor made a comment about having 100% body weight on a single leg.  That single statement shifted my definition—and opinion—of hicho no kamae!  Epiphany!

Once I started analyzing how often I spend with most of my body weight resting on a single leg, I realized the importance of hicho no kamae.  The focus of hicho no kamae is not about the kicking leg, it is about the “back” leg; the ability to kick with the other leg is evident, since most kicks have to be supported by placing most of the body weight onto a single leg.  When looking at hicho no kamae in diagrams, attention is always drawn to the position of the kicking leg because of it irregular position.  What is not as intuitive is that the only way to position the kicking leg is by placing 100% of body weight onto the supporting leg.

How often do we find ourselves resting on a single leg?  Reflect upon waiting in line at Starbucks, or ordering drinks at a bar.  We spend the majority of our time on a single leg.  Hicho no kamae may just be the natural position we find ourselves in the majority of the time!  That alone would justify its inclusion as a “basic.”  Based on how often we are in it, hicho no kamae may just be the most important kamae to learn!

Despite all of the other stress points that have weighed heavily upon me this year, these epiphanies I have fortunately experienced have helped make this year an absolutely positive one.

Upon further reflection, the source of each of these epiphanies—even though ultimately I’m certain they all funnel up to a single source—came from different instructors.  I have discovered how important it is to obtain different perspectives on the same subjects.  We don’t grow by following a single perspective without question; it is important to gather a broad source of perspectives so we can integrate with our experiences and develop our own perspective.  Therefore, I now strongly believe that although it is important to have a consistent single source of instruction, it is equally important to find alternate sources of perspectives to help us triangulate the concepts we are working on.  Those alternate perspective sources come to us in the forms of seminars.  Epiphany!

As one of the dumbest men on our orb, I try to simplify ideas as much as I can so I can understand them.  Simple concepts are easier to grasp and follow, and makes decision-making easier.  If B always follows A, I know what to expect when I see an A.

However, just as in everything, there is a balance that must be achieved.  Oversimplification is perhaps as dangerous as the deep complexity many of us seem to strive for.

I am by no means a religious scholar, nor do I claim to be a follower of any specific religion.  I do believe in God, but consider each and every one of us equal in his (or her!) eyes.  As a follower of Buddhist principles, I continuously struggle to maintain an open mind on all subjects, which is sometimes quite difficult for someone as biased as I can be.

I know very little about Judaism.  I do know that Judaism predates Christianity by at least a thousand years, and that Abraham is considered a prophet of Judaism.  What I have observed about Judaism is that it is not a unified religion; there appear to be a large number of schisms ranging from the ultra-conservative to the ultra-liberal.  There are three main schisms within Judaism:  Orthodox Judaism, Conservative Judaism, and Reform Judaism.  The difference between the schisms is basically their interpretation of Jewish law.

Christianity is nearly 2000 years old, and it is not immune to the ideological fractures that Judaism has experienced.  Not only was I raised Catholic, but I was raised Catholic in Spain, during a period in which the church permeated society in just about all aspects.  (It appears that in my 20-year absence, the Catholic Church has considerably lost their influence on Spanish culture.)  It turns out that the Roman Catholic Church is only one of four major divisions within Christianity, the others being the Eastern Orthodox Church, the Oriental Orthodox Church, and Protestantism.  Even within Protestantism, there are several denominations which differ in dogmatic interpretation.  Haitian Voodoo could be argued to be Christian.  The Ku Klux Klan professes Christianity.  The Mormon Church definitely believes in Jesus.  On a side note, it is interesting to note that the same Abraham that is a prophet within Judaism is a prophet of Christianity.

Islam is one of the “youngest” religions, dating back roughly 1300 years.  (Interestingly, within Islam, not only is Abraham a prophet, but Jesus as well.)  As young as Islam is, it is also not immune to the ideological schisms that have permeated other major religions.  Not only is there Sunni Islam and Shi’a Islam, there is also Sufism and Ahmadiyya.  There are a significant number of patriotic American Muslims living in our cities already.

Even Buddhism—as a religion—traces its origins to Hinduism.  Hinduism itself can be traced back over 3000 years and also has a number of formalized ideological schisms.

At a microscopic level, every church appears to be a cohesive entity.  At a high-level, however, there isn’t a major religion that isn’t heavily fragmented by ideological and dogmatic interpretations.

The plans to build an Islamic community center and mosque in Lower Manhattan have come under heavy criticism, garnering national attention.  Ironically, the location where the mosque is planned to be built has already been in use for Muslim worship for some time.  The most vocal criticism is the insensitivity of building a house of Islamic worship so close to the former World Trade Center, where the atrocities of 9/11 took place.  The proclaimed insensitivity stems from the fact that the terrorists—or what I prefer to call them, those “God–mned motherfu–ers,” we Muslim.  The Republican establishment seems to have firmly attached themselves to this idea.

Should we blame the horrors of Columbine on the Vatican?  How about the persecution of aliens by the Ku Klux Clan?  Does the onus fall on Christianity?  (Sorry, Roman Catholic Church…but the Spanish Inquisition is all on you…)  I do not wish to oversimplify religion to the point that all members within one religion are alike.

Why do we blame the actions of a few (morons) on the whole?  A heavily-fragmented whole that can’t agree on anything except that they all believe in God?

As a veteran, I took an oath to defend the Constitution of this great nation of ours, against all enemies, foreign and domestic.  Regardless of my enlistment expiry, I do not recall my oath to the U.S. Constitution to have an expiration date.  One of the major tenets of our Constitution that separates us from most other nations is the Bill of Rights, in which freedom of religion is explicitly granted to U.S. citizens.

Well, that explicit freedom of religion extends to our Muslim neighbors as well.  If you are a legal citizen of our great nation, you have the freedom to congregate and worship as you wish, provided it brings no harm to others.  It says so in the U.S. Constitution.

It is concerning when I read or hear comments such as one of our politician’s demand that Saudi Arabia should allow building of Christian churches in Mecca prior to New York City allowing the proposed mosque being built.  In the words of a notable Republican—within the past decade—this is not about whom they are or what they do, it is about who WE are.

WE are AMERICANS.  Our nation—defined by our Constitution—is the envy of the world.  The fact that there is even a national debate regarding the proposed mosque is a credit to us; most countries would have abruptly terminated the discussions long ago.  Even so-called progressive governments, such as the French—which prohibited the use of facial veils—and the Swiss—which prohibited the building of minarets—have interfered in their nation’s religious “freedoms.”

I refuse to be defined by others.  I refuse to be compared to the citizens of other nations.  WE, as Americans, set the standards of citizenship for other nations.

The right to build a mosque—or any other center of religious worship—within our borders is granted by the U.S. Constitution.  That includes lower Manhattan.

Let’s not remember our fallen by becoming the closed-minded citizens of freedom-inhibited nations.

I choose to remember our fallen by shouting out at the world “YES!  You can build your mosque wherever you like, because I am an American, and America is about FREEDOM.”

I recently received a joke via email from one of my best friends:

Retiree Bathtub Test

During a visit to my doctor, I asked him, “How do you determine whether or not a retiree should be put in an old age home?”

“Well,” he said, “we fill up a bathtub, then we offer a teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the retiree and ask him or her to empty the bathtub”

“Oh, I understand,” I said. “A normal person would use the bucket because it is bigger than the spoon or the teacup.”

“No” he said. “A normal person would pull the plug. Do you want a bed near the window?”

I like this joke.  I find it funny.  When I hear (or read) good jokes, I work on how to reuse them, so I started doing the same with this one.

However, as I analyzed this one, I began to see that there was another lesson here, marginally more important than making someone laugh—something that I find to be quite important!

Boxes.

Boxes?  (Envision heads tilted like an RCA dog…)

Boxes.

There are certain parameters we all abide by:  We live on this planet.  Gravity.  Weather patterns.  You name it.  (Even such parameters can be worked around, but not regularly enough to be considered trivial.)

The parameters above are analogous to the sides of a box; the “box” we must operate within.

Given such parameters, that still leaves us with a lot of room to live in.  Our “box” is huge!  So big that we don’t even think there is a box.

From the time each of us is born, we are given new parameters that further define the size of our box.  Eat this.  We live in this country.  In this state.  We need an education.  We need a job.  Obey the laws.  [Insert your own parameter(s) here.]

To be relevant, each new parameter must be within our box, so each new parameter will reduce the size of our box.

In life, we will often be confronted with a situation, and be given—either explicitly or implicitly—a set of parameters to deal with that situation.  Several times, those parameters are real, such as the laws of physics, or even the laws of the government.

When such parameters are real, we must abide by them, due to potential repercussions by stepping out of the “box.”

However—and where the lesson of the above joke comes in—there are situations in which we assume our own parameters.  We create artificial boundaries for ourselves much tighter than the real parameters.  Over time, these artificial boundaries become so” real,” that we can’t even imagine what’s on the other side of them.  But they’re only real in our minds.

When we have freedom of movement within our boundaries, we feel relaxed and content, perhaps even blissfully unaware of any boundaries.  But as soon as we feel even minimally constrained within our box, we start becoming stressed.  Have you ever felt “boxed in?”  “Unable to move?”  With very little “wiggle room?”

Periodically, we must each examine the parameters of our “boxes,” including “rediscovering” what’s on the other side of them—investigate what’s outside the box—to determine if the parameter defining that particular side of the box was indeed a legitimate constraint, or did we just assume it was.  How can we make our boxes bigger?  So big that I can’t even see the sides?  HOW DO I BECOME FREE?

Life is already absurd on its own, without us making it even more absurd than it has to be.

Pull the plug!  (Or find a nice window for your box…)

In a relatively recent conversation, I was told that “contrary to popular belief, achieving true spirituality is not to remove oneself from the world, but is instead to become part of it.”  Such a resonating epiphany has triggered several thoughts, and once I work them all out and develop a perspective that I feel I can share, I will post it.  (Hopefully, I can intersect my perspective with yours, and better zero in on the subject.)

One of the thoughts on the subject I’m willing to share is how good-natured humor is a key aspect of spirituality.

Life is full of absurdity.  You know it is.  Being able to deal with such absurdities in a positive manner is essential to a joyous life.  (More on this soon!)

Although intellectually I understand the need for military action, I also believe that protracted war is the pinnacle of absurdity.  However, it is not incongruous to be anti-war and yet fully support the brave men and women sent to them.  Since our national leadership has deemed it necessary to deploy our troops—exceptional spirits who have volunteered to protect us, even at the highest possible personal cost to them—it is also their responsibility to bring them home as soon as possible.  (There is no implicit political affiliation with supporting our troops.)

As a tribute to our brave men and women, I want to share with you some photos I recently received via email that depict the good-natured humor that our troops display while dealing with the absurdities of war.

Support our troops by thanking them when you get a chance.

Disclaimer:  These are not my pictures.  I am assuming that since I received them in a mass-distribution email that they are now in the public domain.  I will gladly remove any or all of them if my posting them causes any issue.

The holidays are always tough for me.  I can’t pinpoint the reason why, but I think it has something to do with my family all being in Spain accentuating a feeling of loneliness.  I’m not entirely certain.

This last holiday season, however, has been especially hard.  Misbehaving dogs, testing deadlines, taskings, et al, all have simultaneously combined into a smothering blanket.

Adding to the stress was an inner voice telling me that I was deviating from the path I have been on for the past two years, which had somehow kept a smile on my face.

As the holidays passed, the new year came and went, and we progressed well into January, my condition continued to deteriorate.  I kept internalizing everything that was happening, allowing it to accumulate pressure to such levels that a mere touch would cause an explosion.  I had become a ticking bomb, waiting for the tiniest spark to combust.

My awareness of this condition only increased the pressure.  I had been repeatedly trying every method I knew to ameliorate this state, but none had worked.  I felt trapped and so “dangerous” to others that I completely removed myself from social events in an effort to protect anyone that may come in contact with me.

After one particular training session last week that had escalated to a somewhat volatile situation, not only feeling trapped but beginning to despair for not finding a solution, I approached one of teachers—Tony Griffin—and explained what my life was becoming.

Griffin Sensei, after listening to me, not only offered a different and objective perspective—one which I had been too preoccupied to even consider—but also a tool to assist me in alleviating incoming pressures.  The new perspective allowed me visualize the internalization that was creating the “ball” of pressure deep within me; the new tool (or exercise) allowed me to minimize or even eliminate any additional pressure from being accumulated.

After the discussion with Griffin Sensei, I felt better.  Although the “ball” still remained, the pressure had lightened up enough that I could once again objectively analyze the situation.

But the “ball” still remained.

If neither my new perspective nor the tool had alleviated the pressure, what had done it?  Why had the pressure decreased?

I am on a return flight from a business trip, where I had additional opportunities to further discuss with friends the events and situations of the last month.  With each successive conversation, the pressure within the “ball” decreased, until I recently realized that what alleviates the pressure is open and honest discussion of the issues.  Externalization.

Now, it sounds obvious, but what alleviates the pressure is letting it out; the release of pressure.  Honest communication is the safety valve that prevents pressure from accumulating to explosive levels.

We will never be able to fully avoid the events and situations that cause pressures to be applied against us.  Sometimes, we will be unable to fully mitigate the amount of pressure that is being applied.  In some situations, we will be forced to internalize it and carry it within us.

However, internalizing pressure should be a conscious decision that we choose, making us cognizant of the fact that such pressure exists.  Awareness of any internalized pressure should trigger the need for opening the safety valve, or “externalization,” allowing the safe release of stressful pressure that otherwise unchecked, will make us walking time-bombs.

Sometimes, our path will take us through dark, desolate, and/or dangerous places.  That can’t be helped.  But it is important that we don’t stop and remain in them for long, or the fears that such places cause will continually grow within us, to such levels that they will eventually transform us to something native to the dark, desolate, dangerous places, and we run the risk of staying in them forever.  It is imperative that we realize that the path is just that, a path between places, and that we should continue to move, striving to regain the path that keeps a smile on our faces.

Personal note to my friends and loved ones:

I shut down.

Several of my friends reached out to me during this past month, and I kept them away with dishonest communication.  I didn’t do it with any malicious or selfish intent.  After objective analysis, I am convinced my spirit was one of not burdening them with my friends and loved ones with my issues.  I did not realize that they were offering me a hand—a safety valve.

I was wrong.

I cannot and will not make any guarantees that this will not ever happen again.  But now I am aware of it, and (think) I know how to properly mitigate it from reaching the same levels.

That doesn’t change the fact that I was wrong.

I want to thank all my friends that over the past week have listened to me, and those who over the past month reached out to me.

I was wrong.  I was wrong, and I apologize.

Impeccability.

I’ve been working with this concept for nearly a year now.  We’ve all heard the word, but does each one of us apply it?

The literal definition of the word impeccable may imply perfection, but there is a subtle difference that pushes it beyond the boundaries of that box.

Impeccability is not perfection.  Perfection is a state beyond which no further improvement can be reached.  Perfection is rarely seen, and when it is, it typically is momentary—a slice in time—crossing our paths tangentially.  Sustainable perfection is unachievable.

If a continued state of perfection is so unattainable, why would we ever pursue it?

We pursue perfection because with each iteration, we learn and improve.  Although we realize that sustainable perfection is perpetually out of reach, we—consciously or subconsciously—know that the closer we are to it, the better we feel.

The word impeccable originates from the latin conjunction in (non) + peccare (sin):  without sin.  Impeccability is proper spirit.

Impeccability is not perfection.  Impeccability is not even the random instant of perfection.  Impeccability is the continuous striving for perfection, especially when aware that perfection is beyond our grasp.

Impeccability is not a quantifiable measure or state.  Someone trying anything for the first time will rarely get it right.  (If by some chance they do, they will usually lack the understanding of why it was right.)  Impeccability is the will to try something with the intent of improvement; proper spirit.

Impeccability—the spirit of continuous improvement—is what separates masters from practitioners.

As we prioritize what is important in our lives and select those areas in which we want to be “impeccable,” we should realize that in order for impeccability to be truly “impeccable,” it cannot be selectively applied.

If impeccability is not congruent, it is just a form of hypocrisy.

Congruency.  Congruency is a term most of us became familiar with during high school geometry.  Two angles that have the same “aperture” are considered congruent.  Let’s extrapolate that concept outside of angles and into our lives.

Congruency in our lives means approaching everything we do with the same spirit, regardless of what it is.  Congruency is applying and maintaining the same frame of mind in activities that we particularly enjoy—in my case, skiing and martial arts—to activities that we’re not as fond of—again in my case, cleaning up after my dogs’ “accidents.”  (If you specifically enjoy cleaning up after dogs, please contact me.)

Congruency is an essential component of impeccability.

The holidays are practice?  What does this have to do with impeccability?

The holidays are a fantastic time of year where the majority of people worldwide strive to be more tolerant, which is truly awesome.  (If I was an alien, the holidays is when I’d want to land on this planet.)  Physically, nothing changes during the holidays.  (Except perhaps our bellies.)  But we can all feel the spirit of the holidays.

The contrast between the spirit of the holidays and the “other” eleven months of the year is so marked that many of us yearn for the holidays the entire year.

Why?

Why does such a giving and tolerant spirit have to end?  After a single month?

The holidays should be practice.  Our impeccability during the holidays should remind us of how congruent our spirit should be throughout the year.  Then perhaps, the next holiday season, we can improve even further!

What world could we create if each year, we all improved collectively?

Happy holidays, and a happy rest of the year!

Earlier this week, as I was having lunch with a colleague, I observed a little girl walking on the stools that lined the front window of this particular restaurant.  Although these stools are bolted to the floor, the seats of the stools rotate freely, prompting me to casually remark to my colleague, “she’s going to bust her ass.”

Within five seconds of my uttering the words, the seat she was stepping onto next rotated, causing her to fall between the stools and hit her head on the steel footrest below.  Naturally, she started crying, upon which her parents, who were sitting a mere two tables away, picked her up and quietly began consoling her.

My initial judgement—and I now realize that’s what it was—was to think “that was dumb.”  But then I began to think about the lesson the lumpy little girl had just learned, and how she was unlikely to not only forget, but repeat the actions that had caused her such pain.

Growing in Spain, I use to spend my summers with my aunt (and godmother) in Gallur, a small village where my grandfather is from.  One particular season, shortly after arriving in Gallur for the summer, I wanted to ride the bicycle, one which I had always ridden, but the training wheels had been removed.  Upon inquiring about the lack of training wheels, my aunt just took me and the bicycle to a street, put me on the bicycle sans training wheels, and adamantly told me to go.  As bewildered as I felt, I was already wise enough to recognize her tone of voice, and so I went.  My aunt just turned around and went back home.

As I recall, the following hour was an especially painful one.  But the following hour wasn’t quite so.  The hour after that, I was going up and down that street at ridiculous speeds with a big grin on my face.  At the end of the day, despite the bruises and scuffs, I had just lived one of the best days of my life.  I had learned to ride a bike in two hours!

All of the mistakes, either due to poor judgement or just plain clumsiness, resulted in immediate feedback I was able to instantly apply.  To this day, I can get on any bike and pedal without even thinking about it.

The little girl’s parents could have tried to stop her.  Protect her.  Shield her.  Explain to her beforehand the risks of what she was about to do.  However, the fall from the stools, although momentarily painful, was far from potentially fatal.  If the little girl really wanted to walk on the stools, she was going to find a way to do so; no amount of warning was going to stop her.  Her parents were near enough to ameliorate any consequences.

My aunt did not take me to a busy street.  Not only was it essentially an alleyway with infrequent use, but there was full visibility to it from the house.  Even if I wasn’t aware of it, I was being monitored.  Actually, because I perceived that I was alone, thinking that there was nobody to console me as I took my lumps, I would simply just get up after each fall and try again.

Looking back over the years, the lessons I have never forgotten are those that were learned through direct “consequential” feedback.  (Don’t stand too close to the fire!)  No education or safety awareness program can cover the infinite “what ifs” that can realistically occur.  (The purpose of such programs is to generate an awareness of the most common potential consequences and provide us with a basic toolset with which we can hopefully mitigate “issues.”

The little girl was on the stools because she had no fear (or understanding) of the consequences of falling.  I was on the bicycle because the fear of angering my aunt was greater than the fear of falling.  Regardless of the motivation, we both learned valuable lessons in minimal amounts of time.

How often does fear prevent us from doing something we could potentially love?

Skydiving is an activity that inarguably has typically fatal consequences if something goes awry.  However, there are individuals with thousands for successful jumps.  Even though statistically it is still a relatively safe activity, we tend to call skydivers crazy, usually with colorful adjectives.  Yet, most of us have not experienced what they have.  The feeling of freefalling thousands of feet may well be worth the perceived risk.  I don’t know.  Yet.  Our perceptions, acquired from the opinions of others or through some form of education, may instill an irrational fear that ultimately prevents us from taking action.

There is no substitute for experience.

We have all heard or read this old adage, or some form of it.  But do we understand it?  What are we doing with our lives?  What are NOT doing with our lives?

Every new experience stretches our mind, increasing our capacity for understanding and tolerance.  To not do something because it is “too hard” or is “too much work” is the lament of the lazy and cowardly.

So take that trip.  Learn that skill.  Go scuba-diving.  Surfing.  Travel to a different continent.  Explore the Great Wall of China.  Divine the secrets of the Serengeti.  Climb a mountain.  Raft the Grand Canyon.  Hike a national park.  Open your eyes and your heart and DISCOVER.  Do it responsibly, but DO it.  FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS!

Experience is not what happens to you; it’s what you do with what happens to you

-Aldous Huxley