Power found between two trees

[Edit: Started writing this January last year]

There is a pair of old trees in Antwerp. Walking from one to the other I get stronger, faster, happier.

I've been trying to figure out how I can be a better teacher.

In college, we had this really helpful and organised teacher, he was tremendously dedicated to his craft; wonderful command of engineering mathematics. His notes and lectures laid it all out with superb clarity; matter-of-fact. But when it came down to exam and study time - it was all like grasping water; the stuff was hard to reproduce and apply. He made me feel it was easy; "All you have to do, folks, is..." But it needed more work. He made us feel safe and secure with his notes and lectures. Complacent.

Unintentionally unsuccessful.

In secondary school, we had a mathematics teacher, who was on the other end of the spectrum; she offered little to any sense of security in her classes, to the point that I was the only one out of 12 that did not find a tutor for extra support. Strangely, the end result was that the class did spectacularly as a whole; Bs and As all round. In a Machiavellian way, she created a circumstance where her students could excel.

Unintentionally successful.

Risk Compensation - a theory which suggests that people typically adjust their behavior in response to the perceived level of risk, becoming more careful where they sense greater risk and less careful if they feel more protected. Not enough perceived risk and we'll stagnate, too much and we'll flounder.

Where's that middle ground? Spoonfeeding; cast adrift..

During his workshop two years ago at Elite Athletes,  Tom Weksler talked about his approach to teaching floor-work and acrobatics; he wanted us to get a feel for moving around down there, for us to get a grasp the motor principles at play. He was resigned to the fact that he had to teach us a pattern of moves because he had found it the best way to learn lessons. But he invited us to figure out what the movement and pattern illustrated.

I had my first session with my kung fu student this evening, since the Fighting Monkey Intensive in Athens.

Fascinating, rich, thought-consuming and frustrating. It reminded me of the Buddhist adage:

"When you meet Buddha on the road, kill him."

Jozef and Linda spent 5 days showing us a full spectrum of concepts: stillness, rhythm, collaboration, situational movement instead of rote movement. Challenging us to find our own insights from the situations.

So for the coming 2 months I will not give him technical or detail corrections, instead I am going to suggest a quality that a movement or set or exercise cultivates and let him judge and question for himself if he can solve it.

The Form of Father, central in the Fighting Monkey practice, as Jozef pointed out is a set of exercises, a lot of them similar to what they do on soccer pitches every weekend, nothing holy. But the story of the father form is rich. This is 8000 thousand years old, something precious, healing, comprehensive and powerful; it will heal you and more.

My experiences and what I have heard from others that work in embodiment (Mark Walsh, Francis Bryers, Anouk Brack, Paul Linden) is that the body is very porous/sympathetic to the intention/purpose:

If I believe something, the body will do its best to support and cultivate that perception. It's why pharmaceutical companies bend themselves over backwards with double blind studies, to ensure that the patient has no inkling if it is the real pill or the sugar pill they are taking.

At the end of the session, I pointed at two grand stately trees several paces apart. I told him walking between these two trees would make him more powerful. He just has to figure out how that could be true.

Hand Day

People joke about skipping leg day.  But most of us skip "hand day" far more frequently.
The article link got me thinking and probably repeating myself, and definitely repeating others.
Little summary
- Inverse correlation to all risk mortality (5kg drop in the grip test linked to 17% increase in mortality risk)
- decreasing grip strength in elderly linked to cognitive decline
-nearly 20 percent decrease in grip strength [...] in one generation.

The irregular objects we have to manipulate in life aren't as forgiving as a bar and we're not preparing for it.
Ever since Fighting Monkey in Athens last year, I've been spending more time with my hands. And this was further reinforced by Rafe Kelly in the summer (Evolve, Move, Play).
Using clay, playing with the wooden ball, more time on the Chinese pole, more aware of it during partner carries in the circus training, isometric grips and compressions while i walk around or sit.
It is something I intellectually appreciated, but I am only now physically realising how complex the hand is.  All the different joints and structures in the hand mean there are a nigh infinite number of situations to develop strength on dexterity; A pole expert will have a different hand to a climber to a hand-balancer to labourer to a parkour athlete to a judo-ka to a kungfu practitioner, every time slightly different response to requirements.
One of the reasons the bar is so popular is because it's the easiest grip we do and means we can lift more weight or do more reps because we've removed the hand as a weak point. We avoid learning how to selectively apply force in the palm, fingers and wrist; am I pinching, poking, grabbing, enveloping, holding, "sticking", smashing, etc.
The consequence is that the hand doesn't develop a proportionate capacity to the rest of the body; an ability to deadlift x3 bodyweight is less relevant when we are trying to carry furniture on our own.

http://m.nautil.us/issue/45/power/raising-the-american-weakling

Elephant features

My student and I have these fantastic conversations as we travel to and from work.

In the main, we muse and ponder philosophy, kung-fu, meditation/awareness and embodiment; and the practicalities thereof in so far as they fit and don't fit in modern daily life.

At the certainty, or at least at the risk, of hubris, they remind me of classical philosophical dialogues or parables... or maybe a web-comc (I'm looking at you, dinosaur comics):

1. We're always taking the same path,  (heading towards the rising sun or the setting sun) & arrangement (side-by- side in the car)
2. Sometimes the above topics are explicitly discussed (“What do you think the relevance of practicing forms is to learning from our reactions at work?”)
3. While other times we happen upon them like an errant euro in the corner of a jacket pocket (“You know, what you just described there reminds me of an outcome from practicing this meditation,…)

More than any other practice/habit I have these days, the dialogues have shaped how I've behaved and trained in the last year... at least as far as my various cognitive biases allow me to assess. They're a touchstone to the qualities I want, moments to reflect on whether I'm moving towards or away from them, discussed with a like-intended (not necessarily like-minded) companion.*

Particularly in 2016, there was a wonderful shift in dynamic; the dialogues, they became much more "dialogue-y"; His own practice and learning were taking root; I couldn't just tell him "like it is" and have him nod sycophantically without digesting it.**

In our dialogue from last week, he was telling me about how he was reframing certain experiences by approaching them  with enthusiasm; converting nervous energy or contraction that arises from "having to do something" into something with clearer direction and momentum; he'd encapsulated a certain way of being in a word that he could take out to help him when necessary. It was great stuff, reminded me of Wendy Palmer's Leadership Embodiment Fundamentals.

I did have one reservation about it though.

Something that I've struggled more than once, when employing a cue to incite a change, is that their ability lead me down the garden path, away from what I wanted. I suggested he try and dig in, develop an introspective snapshot of the state he wants; The introspective snapshot - I described it like being able to paint a landscape, every detail, not just "the trees are green and the sky is blue."***

I remember one time, I was working with a client that wanted to feel more confident. I offered the image of a rockstar. It certainly had the desired effect on me - the image of a charismatic star on stage, radiating, larger than life, etc. But for him...It went terribly, he focused on the status change, that people would be beneath him, "fuck 'em”, developed a sneering attitude and became slightly aggressive. Different strokes for different folks.

The cues, what we've judged to be key features/phenomena of a system - itself a defined and limited piece of the universe - are simply a shorthand for something that people have written, spoken and dreamed about millennia- physical, mechnical, spiritual, biological, physiological, social, sexual, abstract - something that has roots going back to the dawn of life.

But for simplicity's sake I'll reduce it down to a phrase or image. Perfect.

Much like fabled the elephant, if I only know an elephant from grabbing his trunk, my cue for the experience won’t be useful for you if you’re on the other end cupping his testicles.

Our models and stories have their limits.

The danger in a cue, an arbitrary defining feature is not knowing its limits; If you find something that works for you see how far you can lean on it before it breaks; find out how others look at it.

Expect that your knowledge and tricks will one day fail you.

As the goatherd told me in the Sahara ten years:

The world is too big for your philosophy

*******

*He gets dragonball Z and Supernatural references°

**He told me once: after work, he really wanted to sit in silence, that even the sound of the radio got on his nerves. I,  apparently, told him he should leave the radio on and work with that discomfort.  He did this for weeks, essentially self-inflicting what the Geneva convention forbids.. a time later, he told me that he couldn't handle it anymore and had since switched off the radio. I balked at what he had been doing to himself; and told him that sounded like a horrible, masochistic idea; I had no recollection of advising it.

***Full disclosure, I didn’t say that at the time, but while I was writing this post, it came to me and I thought it was worth embellishing.

-------

°...and I suppose a common language in training and observation helps too.

Snowflake

Something I've been stewing on,  yet another thing on my mind since fighting monkey intensive in January.  Normal versus special.

Feeling special is a partitioning.
Gives a different value to experiences,  can make one feel more vulnerable easily offended and angered. The "don't you know who i am" effect. Ego is in sway.

Moments where i have felt special or wanted to be special,  are moments where I've felt fragile,  vulnerable and disconnected.

In Systema books they talk about doing the work,  being professional.

Jozef and Linda described it as being normal.

----------

Snowflake
You're not special;
Some kind of normal
most likely. Saving the damsel, Saving
the people, being patient, Doesn't
make you special;
Doesn't make your pains, nor your
suffering special. Nothing
new under the sun;
Some kind of normal
most likely.  Love
it.

Walls

Walls

What kind of home is earthquake proof,
Unbreakable?

Go ask the builders their ways;
Lay bricks,
Join wood.

Ward off the elements,
Isolate.

Attend!
A way crooked followed will sunder walls.

Still...
Walls and roofs fail.
Just wait.

Ways lain down in stone,
Absolute,
Stagnant.

What kind of home is earthquake proof?
One of horizon and heaven.

A wall unbuilt is never breached,
Wood unjoined never split

Hardcore kindness

Returned to working on my deep stance the last few weeks. Last year I built up to 7 minutes. Coming back at it again I'm between 3-4 minutes, fresh.

This evening I sat three times: 3:30, 3:00, 2:50 (probably 3-5 minutes between the sits). I'm proud of myself because each time I stayed there for a more intense sensation in the legs. The last one I got to the legs trembling and tingling phase.

In college I treated it as a flagellating thing, chastising myself for my weakness whenever I whimpered to myself about stopping and standing, and the usual perfectionism jazz.

In the last 5 years, I've become more interested in grace under fire;  Be it a  deep stance, an impending deadline, or an argument: the psyche has similar responses to stress; cultivating kindness as things get tough is meaningful because it's easy to be a grouchy fuck when your back is against the wall.

Things that are helping me the most in being kind while I feel the burn and get those gainz:
A tip from Paul Linden's (he's amazing, and hosting a bodywork and embodiment seminar around 7th July - go go go!) centring method, which is mighty powerful, is to have a "smiling heart".  Something I got from Tom Weksler (a self-described traveling teacher, he's got an astonishingly deep practice in many things; acrobatics, stillness, martial arts, dance, also go learn from him :) ) was imagine the tension flowing out to the extremities; it's like spreading lumps of butter evenly on bread.¹ And finally: even full breaths with a complete exhales, because I've noticed if my chest and stomach is tight, I don't reflexively exhale fully, and it peters out with some gas still in the tank, so to speak. So when I'm not freaking out too much, I try to gently, but clearly exhale fully. I got the mindfulness on breathing from Systema.²

Tough training, particularly approaching physical or psychological limits is a way to experience the acute stress response, and get a " taste of trauma." Using the opportunity to cultivate gentleness and compassion, instead of irritation and frustration is invaluable, because it'll become easier and more reflexive to be that way when the shit hits the fan for realz.

In summary, kindness practice offers a wonderful layer to tough training sessions.

+++++
¹Bilbo shout out!
²yes, yes, I'm doing a lot of namedropping. Because it makes me look good. But also, it's marvelous how different and the same ideas can come from different people and influences... I'm a strong believer in redundancy hearing the same thing from different sources is a wonderful indicator of an underlying principle or a hypothesis being correct (it's never a certainty, but independent corroboration is sweeeet).

Listen to yourself

Interesting blog, one line in particular caught my attention.

"I train based on instinct. For example, no one tells me when I am hungry or thirsty. I just know. My body tells me."

This is golden advice, but practically tricky to follow: What he's suggesting is something that is a life's work; and why is it a life's work?

Because we are awfully good at deceiving ourselves; That's why we have trouble with things we feel are good for us versus seemingly attractive alternatives; e.g. ice-cream vs no ice-cream; in bed early versus looking at Facebook¹

Basically, relying on the body is potentially disastrous, particularly for someone going with no experience. And a program/method is arguably a quickstart that gives you ground to stand on.

It is a clear target,  a meter stick,² and a drill sergeant for when you want to stop, because part of you feels like you've done enough; and there will always be a part of you saying "that's enough". Sometimes it's worth listening to, other times it isn't. And knowing that difference is the hard work.

We're responsible for our own well-being and health, I don't think any method should overshadow that because eventually we outgrow them.

This stuff had been on my mind because of experiences with and reading on Systema and attending the Fighting Monkey intensive in Athens in January. Both of then eschew blindly following dogma in favour of listening and being receptive to inside and out.

Like the man said, eventually it should be like hunger or thirst. Just another instinct.

=======
¹Just a couple of examples I got... From a friend. Named... Ummm.. Blairtin.
²In a fit of elitist snobbishness I ended up describing a program or method as a "fitness Nuremberg defence", which absolves us of responsibility for our physical well-being and health.

Growing on the pole

First night back at circus training.
This is where I've been experiencing most frustration, disappointment and anxiety, ie "an ideal setting for working on shit" as Buddha says.

Screwing up and failing at stuff is something I criticise myself for to varying degrees depending a number of factors (well rested, fatigue, hydrated, what my expectation is; my ability relative to others, and how i feel about that). Some days it's an infinitesimal mote that I easily huff away with chortle. Other days it cloys, clots and clings like honey in my hair (... I imagine honey is like that in hair).
At the circus training there are a couple of different disciplines I see around me, floor acrobats, handbalancers, aerialists and jugglers.
I marvel at jugglers when they're training; if they drop a ball they are as cool as cucumber, they'll keep juggling. Flow and continuity is they're bag. They take dropping balls in their stride. It genuinely amazes me everyone every time I see it;  usually freeze or collapse when things go awry.
Today I was in the "Dude zone" (hatch tag big Lebowski). I was working on pirouettes transitioning to knee switches. Since the beginning knee switches have been a sticking point for me. I took these recordings:

Casual pirouette

I love how casually I'm moving. I think starting away from the poke helped that a great deal, it built up psychological momentum because walking is easy and the pole was an small in my field of vision. I slip the pirouette a couple of times, but I stay reasonably unperturbed. And I managed to make headway in knee switches, despite frustration and tunnel vision in previous sessions, largely because I had a different set up/context with a taste of ease or flow.
As it happens I was sharing the room with jugglers this evening, I feel like some of their attitude rubbed off on me, like lipstick on a shirt, which naturally makes any person cooler and more capable because it implies they are getting some action.

So, some summarising:
- all I need is a bathrobe and milk in my beard, and I could do a big Lebowski themed piece
- it's useful to change the context of something, particularly of it feels like something is stuck
- this video would be much prettier of I pointed my toes and looked at the "public"
- look at how other people do stuff

Perfectionist's Care Package

I am going to give a workshop series in the Winter.

Topic: Fear of failure, and giving and receiving help.

Who: People that often feel overwhelmed or exhausted by the fear of failure, and negative outcomes; who struggle to ask for help because it seems like admitting weakness (it is not, not all things are possible alone... in fact few if any things are).

Why: So that we can do our best, and if it is not enough, can still have compassion for ourselves. Everyone should have the opportunity and means to develop emotional resilience, a capacity to have grace under fire, to keep our wits about us when we need to. And when the dust has settled, shake it off, with a spring in our step.

When: 5 Sundays x 4h - 1 Nov, 8 Nov, 22 Nov, 29 Nov, and 6 Dec (specific time, TBD). I want to do this in 5 sessions because a single session is rarely enough to create lasting change and improvement.

How:  This workshop is focused on somatically working through emotions, and it will be hugely experiential and very personalised. We all have our unique patterns of tension and (in)action to fear or helplessness and what this course offers is tailor-made to help with them.

We will use exercises movement patterns, ideas and methods chosen from meditation, martial arts, dance, improv, and the performing arts. Setting us up to safely simulate situations that stir a fear of failure, a sense of helplessness, or a need for help. And prepare us to do our best, and should it be not enough that we does not knock the wind out of us.

For example: A competition between you and another participant; investigating how we feel in these situations (how did you react even at the mention competition?), how we feel before, during and after - win, lose or draw. Then how we can change so that our reaction is more constructive and less tiring.

Thoughts
Brené Brown said it best in a an interview with Forbes magazine
I was raised in a “get ‘er done” and “suck it up” family and culture (very Texan, German-American). The tenacity and grit part of that upbringing has served me, but I was not taught how to deal with uncertainty or how to manage emotional risk. I spent a lot of years trying to outrun or outsmart vulnerability by making things certain and definite, black and white, good and bad. My inability to lean into the discomfort of vulnerability limited the fullness of those important experiences that are wrought with uncertainty: Love, belonging, trust, joy, and creativity [...].

All the way through school and in work, there is a huge emphasis on the right result - “100%!”,  the ends justifying the means.  Putting in just a few more hours to get something finished, or just right, because it is shameful to fail. The entire experience can be brutalising, sense of personal worth becomes tied to results; a failed project, exam, training session or even a conversation, like being told one has been terrible or bad. It is rare that people are adequately prepared for emotional fallout, when things do not go as planned. It can often leave us paralysed!

In martial arts, competitive sports, performing arts, even technical professions - we spend time preparing, conditioning and training ourselves for the moment where we gotta perform; you do not run a marathon without putting in the work first. Likewise, I think it is critical we have opportunity and support develop emotional resilience, because emotionally intense situations are marathons, they leave their marks and they can be a lot worse than a few blisters on our feet.

Practicalities:
Lingua Franca - I will give most of the course in English, but on request, I can speak in Dutch, and during sharing and discussions, either language goes.
Venue - TBD; but location is Antwerp, Belgium
Cost - €100 for the entire series (refund is possible after the first session only; if this idea takes off, I will be charging €200 per course), deposit is €20. Balance can be paid at a later date. Email: maw140@gmail.com for details.
Participants - Ideally 10-15 people. Minimum of 6 for workshop to go ahead.
Clothes - wear what you can move freely in and will keep you sufficiently warm if standing around. (My own recommendation: loose-fitting tracksuit bottoms, long t-shirt, and a jumper)
Questions: Contact me on Facebook (Mairtin McNamara) or email: maw140@gmail.com

Me:

I have been working with the body in one or another for 22 years, most of that has been martial arts (kung fu and karate), but I have been dancing for nearly 10 years (mainly salsa, some hip-hop, and tango), I have done a week long intensive with Paul Linden in embodiment peacemaking and bodywork (using manual manipulation to release tension and get a deeper relaxation).

In 2013 I completed the multi-perspective embodied facilitator course with Mark Walsh, Francis Briers and Anouk Brack. More recently, I have been looking at movement improve, circus training and public speaking.

I have a PhD in industrial crystallization, black belts in kung fu and karate, I am a Competent Communicator in Toastmasters.... In word all the trademarks of a perfectionist and overachiever, i.e. lots of personal experience with fear of failure and the shame that can come with actual failure ;)

Systema Traincation

The last couple of years I've been going on "Traincations." Where I go off somewhere and immerse myself in something, a facet of awareness/movement, "mad skillz", if you will. Essentially a retreat.¹

Last year, I trained with the wonderful Paul Linden in Columbus, Ohio. For a week I worked on conflict resolution and bodywork, plus some Aikido classes in the evenings, with him, all the while I staying at his dojo. An off-kilter veering from my typical day as an engineer (he says with a hipster's smugness).

This year, I was back in North America, and this time it's personal martial. I came to Toronto, the second home of Systema (also called "Know Thy Self") (from the site):

[...]  the authorities quickly realized how viable and devastating the original combat system was and reserved it just for a few Special Operations Units. 

 The body has to be free of tension, filled with endurance, flexibility, effortless movement and explosive potential.

The spirit or psychological state has to be calm, free of anger, irritation, fear, self-pity, delusion and pride.The combat skill includes movements that are powerful and precise, instant and economical, spontaneous, subtle and diverse, the signature of a true professional. 

So there you have it a martial art, reserved for the Russian military elite. In a word:

Hardcore

In practice a mixture of wrestling, groundwork, strikes, weapons and multiple opponents; the whole shebang. I had gone to a few classes of it since September here in Belgium, but I couldn't go as regularly as I'd like because of the travel time.² It frustrated me quite a bit, and some of the guys at the school here in Kortrijk told me that people often go to Toronto and train for weeks, sometimes even months, at the source as it were. Given my obsessive bend, that piqued my interest...

And off I went. The first week at Systema Fightclub, and then second week at Systema HQ. And you know what? It is the tenderest, most compassionate, heartwarming and honest ass-kicking I have ever experienced!

It struck me more as a personal development course in the guise of a martial art. Sure, we're going to: step on each other... Push and shove... Lock and grab... Hit... Gang up on... Even use sticks, chains, whips and training knives... but it's about building each other up, leaving us greater than we were before. Give no more than the partner can handle; gradually expanding the comfort zone; handle punch with care.

That's the idea.

Working on the edge of the comfort zone, is by no means easy; I was covered in bruises and at times annoyed by the skill difference between me and the guys I trained with... It's particularly confronting since I've been doing martial arts for over 20 years. I mean, I should be better at hitting people for heaven's sake!

Luckily everyone was open to helping me. Giving me tips and pointers.

There is one class for everyone. There are no forms to learn; it's bare bones: principles of alignment and minimal effort, breath control and helping each other.  It doesn't matter if one has been training 1 day, 1 year or 20, the exercises are scalable enough that all benefit from the neophyte to the seasoned,  just a question of how deep/far one can go. In the partner work, we collaborate to get the most out of it, it's not competitive. We're given a great deal of autonomy; the teacher explains and demonstrates. He watches over us, but we investigate and explore, if we're not sure or need more guidance, we can. From the get go, we're encouraged to figure it out for yourself.

There is a wonderful emphasis on ease of motion, investigating different approaches and effects of handicaps (go to and get up from the ground while keeping one leg off of the ground, hands behind the back, etc.). We're invited to notice where tension, anxiety, fear or anger arises and working with it, relaxing using movement and breathing, and feedback/support from your partners.

Contrary to the typical image of martial arts, humanity is acknowledged and embraced in the training, it is not denied, as if we were cold automatons following a program or "real men"; that we get frustrated, have emotional responses to attacks and attacking. The context is martial arts, but the guys you meet and work with strive to integrate it with the rest of their lives.

Every class ends with massage work, some peaceful nurturing contact, balancing out the more violent prior work. The fighter is reminded that he can do more than harm. I found this profoundly special, because generally we, and men even more so, don't get enough caring physical contact. I read two pointed articles on this: Touch as Nutrition, by my good man, John Tuite; and  Touch Isolation: How Homophobia has robbed Men of Touch at the Good Man Project. The former looking at the dirth of touch in general and the latter about impact homophobia has had on how male friends express their friendships, and the consequences of being so starved for contact. For no other reason than allowing people the breadth of types of contact we can experience, these classes are powerful. And of course, who doesn't like being able to massage people well? :)

Manny, head teacher at Systema Fightclub, who spent hours outside of class  generously sharing his thoughts and experiences on the art and its broader scope, talks about Systema the martial art being just 15% of what Systema can do, that there is also the Systema of the family, the workplace, and the world at large, and can we apply the principles there that we cultivate in Systema the art.

I presume this level of integration is because of its military origins, where there is a need for a state of sustained vigilance and emotional resilience, so that neither acts of violence nor fear nor eventual aftermaths get you.

The kung fu I practice touches on this idea of calm and well-being, but I haven't experienced the class structure committing to it so effectively; quite often, training kung fu, I feel like I am carving an intricately fine statuette on a pin, using a microscope. Whereas the handful of days I got to spend in Toronto felt more like painting a mural on a wall in the middle of a city; both are works of art and passion, but one is scope and exposure differ.

Pushing the personal development and well-being lark aside, I'll wax pragmatic about the direct application of the training. As I mentioned the classes are made up pf simple (not easy) exercises to improve suppleness and strength in the body, and breath control. It eschews the more esoteric trappings of martial arts, with even sparing explicit mention of a stance, let alone forms and techniques. There are things that are worked on here, that other martial arts cultivate as well, but what impressed me the most is, the economy and efficiency of the Systema approach to training, where partner collaboration is central. The communication between the partners and the cut-down nature of the exercises means the desired effect is clear and the partner will say if it is off the mark. There are epiphanies fleeting or otherwise, that I have had in my own training in the years gone by, that in my opinion, would have been be more quickly arrived at in these classes. Content-wise, something I find singular is their approach and handling of multiple attackers, in any given class, there are even odds that we'll be worked over by two or more people in some capacity. This builds a comfort and familiarity with extra people and, I think, reduces tunnel vision in fights, because there are few things that discourage tunnel-vision more than trying to hit someone while getting kicked from behind by another. Segueing back into the personal development work... in day to day life, it's rare we have the luxury of focussing and acting on a single thing without other things looming; really isn't there always something kicking us from behind while we are trying to live (Imagine I am a cheesy reporter, finishing up a schlocky human interest piece...)?

At the end of my visit, when I was leaving, Vlad, gave me a warm handshake and hug. His wholehearted gratitude for taking the time to come and train in Toronto was incredibly touching. Ultimately, despite moments of vexation the likes of which I haven't experience in a year or too, this was a fantastic experience, that I hope to revisit many times in the coming years. :)

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¹The typical image of a retreat is going off to nature, camping or staying in a Wigwam or something, but that is just too mainstream for me. Following the idea of Campbell's Hero's journey as a template for what retreats are: the environs thereof, are not critical to the process, but stepping over the threshold into the unknown is; going away from the familiar, from friends and family and diving into something alien.

²I wouldn't have any trouble attending because of the time travel.

Best not live on a prayer

How distinct are the shapes of hope and despair for you? How do these emotions appear in your body?

Personally - hope has a lift and arch to it, the chest comes up and the upper back tilts back, an upward tilt of the chin and a slight tautness in the stomach; like I am a baby looking to an adult to be taken up into their arms. It feels like a light, but weak position.

Despair is a collapse forwards of the upper torso, softening of the stomach, a drop of the head. This feels like a heavy, weak position.

My personal experience is that hope easily segues to despair - an arch to a collapse. There's a very seductive flow to it (I think of the transition happening during a crescendo like in Swan Lake).

Something I suspect: if one hopes that something is going to happen, it's exceedingly likely that they don't believe it will happen; they just haven't accepted it yet. And/or they feel powerless to affect the outcome (I am reminded of gamblers). They're holding on to a prayer; Onto a bit of Deus Ex Machina.

I'd go as far as positing:

Despair can only arise out of hope

For resilience's sake, best to be aware of when there is too much hope, then;

1. Relax the stomach and lower back; Raise the crown of the head and tilt the chin a degree or two towards your chest (I think both actions happen together, but I'm not sure); Adjust the weight  on your feet so that is over the arches of the feet.¹
2. Look around and see what can be done and/or who can help.
3. Or if it's time to cut losses and step away.

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¹ Or any centring practice you know or googling can provide ;)

Full Moon

I went meditating,
On the other side of the river,
In the dark,
The Moon and the city before me.

I went meditating,
Searching for peace and stillness,
In the dark,
I found myself emptying my heart...

I went meditating,
Gently scourging where desire lay,
In the dark,
Soon it was picked and polished clean.

I felt empty, a mirror to the world outside,
I felt peace that hurt.

Was it always there, hidden under desire?

marathon week 5 (7)

As a sequel to my marathon two years back, I'm doing three Antwerp one again. This time I'm training fit it though. Following a program and everything.

It's a 17 week program. Mondays are cross training. Tuesday interval.Wednesday easy lope (ostensibly marathon pace). Thursdays are a hard pace. Friday is a rest. Saturday is long. Sunday is rest. Gradually the distance/difficulty on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday increase. My last long run was 19.5km in 91:54 -which is more or less the peace I want for the marathon "simply a matter of" telescoping that out over the next few weeks to the longer distances.*

Tonight I did ladder intervals. I managed: 200, 400, 800, 400, 200, 400, 800, 400, 200, 400, 200m (I was done after the last 400, so just another 200 to cap it off).

200s in 35-37 s, 400s in 1:25-1:33, 800s were the same at 3:11.

The 200s were exhilarating, I felt like Kate Winslet when she was on the prow of the Titanic (you know, because she was in the company of one of the best actors of his generation).**

The 400s were kind of soothing; like prison institutionalisation.

The 800s were horrible.
__________________
*The distances over the half marathon distance (21km) will tell [obviously]. But right now it's looking like 3:15-3:25 to finish.
**His performance in Wolf of Wallstreet was the best I have seen of him.

Aluminium parallettes

A year or two ago, I tried to make parallettes using PVC 1 1/2" plastic tubing. I used standard plumber glue for setting them in place. They didn't last long; within a couple of days they fell apart. (sad face)

Since one of my "training-bros" (technical term) recently made his own ones, I was prompted to re-action. This time, I pulled out all the stops and went for threaded alumnium 3/4" tubing, t-pieces and 90 degree bends. The cost came out as ±€70, so it is a bit on the steep side; it's metal so I am expecting them to last long enough, but we'll see. The plastic tubing I got to cover the base support of the parallettes [to protect my apartment floor] was about €18 for 4m, so that's a fair chunk of the cost right there.

If the threading holds out, I might make more things, like a free standing chin-up frame.

Materials list:

1. 4 x 50cm 3/4" threaded-end pipes
2. 2 x 1m 3/4" threaded-end pipes
3. 4 x t-pieces 3/4"
4. 4 x 90° bends
5. 4m of 1" silicone tubing
6. Teflon tape
7. (Hacksaw, box-cutter knife and cutting block)

 Steps

1. Cut four of the 50cm pipes in half
2. Teflon tape is wrapped round all of the threaded ends to give a snug fit (not sure if it is actually necessary, but my habits of working with leak-free tubing systems are hard to kick).
3. Fit the other 50cm pipes to the middle holes of the t-pieces
4. Fit the 25cm lengths to other two branches of the t-pieces
5. Fit the bends to the other end of the 50cm pipes
6. Fit the 1 m pipes between two of the elbow bends
7. Screw everything as tightly as possible, while still having the bases of the legs perpendicular to the 1m bar
8. Take 1" 4m tubing and cut into four 60cm lengths, eight 20 cm lengths
9. Cut down the length of the tubings
10. Fit the short tubings around the supports of the parallettes
11. Fit the long tubings over the whole length of the bases
12. Give them a go!

Step 1 - cutting the 50cm pipe

Steps 3-5 - End result

Step 6 - Assembled parallette

Step 10 (a)

Step 10 (a)

Step 10 (a)

 Finished product

"Giving them a go" with tuck planche (Step 12)

I can see the future!

Well... not really.

I recently watched the premiere of The Blacklist starring James Spader.

All in all, I enjoyed it. James Spader chews the scenery with decided abandon and a side of relish. We'll see how it goes, but it looks like it will be entertaining at least.

Any way, my predictions are:

• James Spader knew the main woman's criminal father (hence the family information)
• Father saved his life or some such - or they were BFFs
• He was actually super deep cover when he turned bad.
• Red turned himself in to catch someone that betrayed him.
• Her husband is a plant to watch her, something to do with her dad.

Let's see how close I am to being right.

New York

I hadn't been to New York before.

My friends that have been have raved about it.  I arrived just before midnight in JFK. I had printed out the travel details to get to my billet in Chelsea Hostel in Chelsea. All I had to do was get onto the E train from Jamaica station by the airport. The city was already winning brownie points for having the underground run all night. It did lose some for me having to talk to a crazy¹ guy for ten minutes while waiting for the train. He shared his experiences during the flooding - the hotel he stayed in and was no longer welcome in, his sugar momma, how his faith was going to save him from the forthcoming rapture and his calls of abuse at an overweight man on the platform.

When I came out of the station, I found myself walking around poorly-lit empty streets, covered in a light fog. It was like being in Vampire in Brooklyn starring Eddie Murphy. I tried to find the street and avenue where my hostel was at, but the street names/numbers didn't make any sense. I gave in and got a cab. Sitting in the back of the taxi - a real NYC taxi cab, guys! - and watched the map on the screen in front of me... Not knowing the train stop sequence, I ended up stepping off early in Queens at Court Sq./23rd st. According to my directions, I had to wait until 23rd in Manhattan island before stepping off.

The whole trip, I was surprised at how accurately so much of America and Americana is portrayed in TV and film. It was very much contrary to how poorly they usually emulate everywhere else. I mention this now, because the Chelsea Hostel, was the platonic ideal of low-rent building; exposed hot water pipes, uneven stairs, aged linoleum flooring and a bare bedroom with a tiny metal-frame squeaky bed. After being spoiled with all you one can eat pancakes, oatmeal and fruit, the choice of a bagel (brown or white), a single fruit (apple or orange) and a bowel Corn Flakes, didn't leave me particularly satisfied. It didn't help that it was 10-15°C colder than in California.(lower temperatures lead to less trustful judgements - I'll take liberties and extend it liking a place)

I made my way off to the Broadway district. walking up 7th avenue. It took 30 minutes, but the time passed by easily; New York is a much denser place than Los Angeles. Outside of Hollywood blvd, the walk between points of note had little to offer. Now, New York cit-ay on the other hand… the streets were full of people. Everyone walking around, going to work, making an audition, coming from yoga, the gym, running or on their way to/from shopping. such an eclectic mix of people to gawp at! One evening two teenagers walked past me, rappin' at each other, one would bust out a rhymes and the other would fire one back at him. Wrapped up in their own little world. I thought it was a pretty cool moment.

When I was walking through Central Park, I got to see an street performing group that I'd give two thumbs up for showmanship and entrepreneurial spirit. These guys were tight.² Near the end of their set, and had gathered up a crowd of 30-50 people. They'd just picked three people from the crowd - two lovely ladies and a hapless man. They flirted with the women, teased the guy. Before the last big trick, they started their money collection.   They called out people that didn't offer much or had just walked away at the mention of a contribution. They celebrated or acted something in harmony whenever someone gave in ten dollars or more. They'd ask them where they were from and in every case, they had a group-piece for the US state or country - either all of them saying something at the same time, or a rapid-fire back and forth between them, or in the case of Brazil, some of them sung and some of them gyrated something that might have been Samba. Then they would call around to the people from NY to represent, or if some big tipper had been already singled out [a guy from Boston in this case], they'd ask him if he was going to take that? I think they toed the line between persistence and entertainment darn near perfectly. If I had any more than the few dollars I had already given, I would have happily have given it over. There wasn't any passive aggression or guilting in how they wheedled the money out, it was all very entertaining. So, to cap it off, their most athletic member jumped over the three volunteers. I still grin thinking about it.

Other than strolling around the streets I did a couple of other things.

I visited the 9/11 memorial centre, which was pretty intense. It's a beautiful place, the foundations of the towers are water fixtures with chest-high walls holding the names of the civilians, fireman, paramedics and police officers that lost their lives.

I decided that I had time for a Broadway show, and went with Wicked!, thanks to the first season of Glee, which had one or two songs from it as well as Kristin Chenoweth, I had a passing familiarity with it.³ It was a great production, the dialogue was funny and there are some nice dance sequences and acrobatics dispersed through-out.

But the highlight of my NYC trip was my physical activities!

I went to Chelsea Piers for three days and followed beginners gymnastics class, parkour class (Parkour!) and breakdancing class. The teachers were all very good, encouraging and praising without coming off as condescending and they gave me a lot of ideas for my training, which has changed my hand balancing work quite a bit in the last 6 months. But, my goodness!, was my body in bits after it.. lying down, getting up, standing up, reaching up, bending over… my back and ass hated it all! Here's the link for it:
http://www.chelseapiers.com/new/fh/drop-in/adult-gymnastics-classes.cfm

The gymnastics and whatnot was a real high-note for me, and if anyone is interested in doing something physical for a day or even a couple of days, while in NYC, I'd highly recommend it, because the classes are drop-in, no appointment necessary and in the beginners class, they cater for the level of who ever turns up. By the end of the session, I was up to doing unspotted forward somersaults (tweaked my ankle on the landing of one :/ ) and spotted backward somersaults.

To literally cap off my trip to NYC, I got up at 05:30 and ran the Central Park circuit. I jogged up from Chelsea in a hoody and tracksuit bottom. Once I got up, switched out to my shorts and t-shirt. I got a few odd looks from runners as I went along, since most of them were carefully wrapped up. After about 30 minutes I started feeling the chill and after about 45 mins it had gotten cold in enough to hurt. Running back towards Broadway, I saw a big data screen with the temperature on it: 23°F or -5°C. So, naturally, for the home stretch, I covered myself up, hoping to rekindle some sensation. It took a few minutes to pull up the zip of my hoody, since my fingers were numb. But I eventually got it done! The run was a big deal since I am a fan of USA's Suits and the main character, Harvey Specter, apparently does the same circuit.

In terms of food, the highlights were: the Glasshouse, which is a popular pre-broadway show restaurant; and the Shakeshack, which does really nice burgers - the shakes aren't too bad either though.


1. Crazy is a bit harsh, but he neither endeared like an eccentric nor amused like a quirk.
2. Am I using that right, guys?… Guys?
3.  I now remember that I read the book it is based on… I should have led with that and not mentioned watching Glee. My street creed is toast now, yo.

Doc [in] Hollywood

The highlights of L.A. and Hollywood were:

1.     The service, breakfast and tours organised by the hostel

2.     The Warner Bros Studio Tour

3.     Salsa dancing in Santa Monica

4.     Craig Ferguson Show living taping

Breakfast in the hostel was all you can eat pancakes (make them yourself), fruit and oatmeal. I thought the pancakes were a wonderful touch, it was the first time that I went to a hostel where there was complimentary hot food for breakfast. The oatmeal (even the “original” flavor) wasn't great; I am used to high-grade, un-cut O, with no additives.

The hostel organised a guided tour of Beverly Hills. The guy that gave us the tour was a local, and a skinny-jeans-flannel-jacket-and-horn-rimmed-glasses-wearing-vegan-bagel-eatin’ dyed in the wool hipster.  True to his kind’s disdain for “mainstreaming”, we went by public bus. On our way to the stop, he pointed out a huge Great Dane sitting in an open-top pink Cadillac. He freaked out, about it as much as a hipster is permitted and "Instagrammed that sh*t". I think his under-expressed enthusiasm about this slice of Americana was representative of why I got a kick out of him; it was like he had taken the 0-11 measure of intense emotional expression and scaled it down to something feasible in the limited range of motion afforded by skinny jeans and knitted caps. He had timed it so that we had a moment to get a coffee before the bus arrived. He came out of the place with a bacon and egg bagel, but a vegan version, which he ate without irony. The tour stops weren't memorable, but I had a great time listening to the guide go on.

Later that day a group of us booked a spot on the Warner Bros Studio tour. The customer service through-out the tour, including buying the tickets was exemplary. When we got there, we ended up paying individually, there were 9 of us and three paid with credit cards. The clerk remained friendly for the 10-15 minutes it took for our payments and worked around problems with two of the credit card, all while the last-minute queue for the tour was snaking out behind us. In Belgium, one would have been told to get the hell out of the shop, since no money was worth hassle. The tour guide, Brad, was fantastic as well, passionate and knowledgeable about TV and film. I saw the sets for the Mentalist, which was a big highlight for me, particularly seeing the couch where Jane sleeps.¹

The dancing highlight of the entire America trip was a salsa party in Santa Monica. The teacher, Cristian Oviedo, is the current world bachata and salsa champion, and an absolute gentleman. The live music, the standard of dancing and the people were wonderful. I was sorry it didn’t go on longer.

I heard about the party via Internations, which I highly recommend becoming a member of, because it has communities in most major cities and the people are generally very social and open to newcomers even if it is just for a short time.

Before I went to the Salsa party, I did some training on the beach near Santa Monica Pier. It was warm and cloudless, but a bit windy. There were lots of people working out in the outdoor gym that was there – some even doing youtube worthy stuff. I trained as the sun set, which took forever. But it felt pretty cool to practice kung fu with an uninterrupted view of the sun setting..² It was also possible to take Trapeze lessons on the pier, which I would have done, if they were cheaper or I had time to do a couple of days of them.

The one thing that I did arrange before getting to the States was a ticket for a live taping of the Craig Ferguson Show. He’s easily my favourite talk-show host. He’s easy going and irreverent, there doesn’t appear to be any rehearsals at all, and the back and forth between him and his assistant Jeffery Peterson the Robot Skeleton has a very natural rhythm to it that sets it apart from the fake, a-bit-too planned feel I get from the other late night talk show hosts. Watching him is like sitting in the pub and havin’ a chat.

His guests were Billy Connolly and the girl playing the ghost in the SyFy version of Being Human. As far as I can recall, we were sat down in the studio about 30-45 minutes before the recording would begin. And we were introduced to Craig’s warm-up act, Chunky Steve – Ostensibly the best warm-up act in the business. As far as I can gather, the warm-up act is there to whip us into hysterics, so that we will laugh at anything. He spent the duration lowering our threshold for what was an acceptable joke. He picked on a couple of audience members, a blonde and a teenage boy in particularly, since they are such easy targets. Any time we didn’t laugh, he would chastise us and saying ”When I bust out the LOLs (the index and thumb of each hand making “L”s), you gotta laugh like what you heard was hilarious. Remember, mediocre comedian here.” He was like that friendly uncle with the dirty sense of humour that was strangely charming. It easily became the habit to laugh loudly at any joke. An example of mass hysteria, if ever I’d heard of it. A phrase he kept coming back to was “being part of TV magic.” The tone and reverence he gave the phrase was downright religious, much like when my Beverly Hills guide had something to say about the obscene wealth, scale, weirdness, or grandeur of celebrities and their lives. Anyway, as I said, we, the audience, dived right into the zealotry. Our laughter was what we left on the altar.³ You can see me below... I think.

Finally, Craig came out it was I expected. The chatting between himself and Billy was warm and familiar, with jokes thrown in all over the place. We laughed when we were supposed to, as hard as we could. I don’t know about the rest, but I was happy to oversell how funny a joke was, because I like Craig Ferguson and his show.

After Hollywood, I made my way by public transport to New Port Beach. Virtually no one uses public transport in California, car travel is so cheap that it is almost exclusively very poor people that use buses. To the point that my contact in Internations for the salsa party didn’t even know if night buses from Santa Monica back to Hollywood existed and my friend in New Port Beach didn’t know even it was possible to get there from LA just with trains and buses. I stayed pretty relaxed on the trains, but the buses made me nervous, since stops are rarely clearly indicated and bus drivers can forget that you’ve asked them for a particular stop. But Google Maps saw me through.  :)

Hanging out with my pal in New Port Beach was excellent. It was our first time seeing each other in 7 years. As it turned out, both of us were a bit worried that it would be an awkward mess. We ate out at a Crow burger (Gourmet burger “joint”), a Mexican restaurant where I ate Quinoa for the first time and had delicious guacamole. During the day, when she was at work, I did some planning for the New York and Boston legs of my trip, very fruitful kung fu training, and went to Road Runner to get fitted for some runners (trainers in American). On the last Friday, we went clubbing, most of the music sucked, but I did hear Thrift Shop by Mackelmore for the first time, which I came back to Belgium declaring the song to watch out for.

That Saturday we drove to San Diego Zoo, which was great fun. We did just one tour – the Animal Man tour, led by an improve comedian who’s done shows on HBO. We got to see pandas and a baby Giraffe (already over 1.8m tall… baby my ass).

1. No, that doesn’t sound weird at all. No sir-eee.
2. I’ve seen a couple of uninterrupted sunsets in Ireland, but either because this was in Santa Monica in California and it would be my only chance to see one this far West for the foreseeable future, or because the sunset is qualitatively better closer to the equator, this one is a special one.
3. I’m trying to sound like the guys from Top Gear, when they say something profound about a class of car being discontinued.