What’s Actually Happening
There are two kinds of tasks — generalized and specialized.
A generalized task is something like digging a ditch, if you are an able-bodied human with a basic level of communication skills and the right tools, you can dig a ditch with some passing amount of success.
A specialized task is something that requires additional skills, knowledge, or natural ability that make said task unavailable to the general populace. A good example would be the task of painting a master work of art. It is a task only available to those with an inherent gift for art, and at the extreme only those with a gift and years of training. So these specialists are a smaller group of people capable of creating a master work of art.
Now, come with me in your mind to pre-prehistoric times … back before the wheel. In this world, you can see that while the general task of stabbing a small creature in order to eat was necessarily available to everyone, the ability to move a large and heavy creature a significant distance was a specialized skill reserved for those cavemen with huge upper-body strength. Since larger creatures provide more food, the big strong guys get the ladies and poof, Darwinian theory takes a step forward thanks to, well … the upper body strength of Darwin’s ancestors.
Then along comes the wheel.
All of the sudden, it doesn’t require massive upper body strength to carry that elk back to the cave; now just about anybody with the ability to walk can get that thing moving. The formerly specialized skill has become a generalized skill by virtue of the application of a simple machine.
Ok, swoop back to the present day.
We’re not talking wheel here, we’re talking computer and network communication. Now, thanks to these primitive tools, just about any idiot can write and publish a book, record his/her version of harmony in the key of C, and discover the answer to just about any common question. The need for upper-brain strength is diminished in many departments.
Ironically, our caveman friends were witness to a deterioration of the advantage of upper-bodied specialists at the onset of the wheel. Now there are more cavemen competing for the bigger prey, and the strength of the generalist begins to surpass that of the specialist. You see, generalists tend to need to work in groups and in more common arenas with other generalists because they must overcome their weaknesses… while specialists can work in more isolated space, relying on nobody. So when the playing field is leveled, the generalists actually have the advantage because they know how to work in a team, while the specialists find themselves struggling to keep up. Eventually, the specialists die off and the generalists forward the gene pool.
On the Internet, this is observable in many ways. We see the specialty of the “journalist” being over-run by the hordes of generalist bloggers (hey, like me!). We (maybe a little sadly) see the specialist skills of a bookstore owner over-run by the generalist abilities of Amazon employees working in groups — and we even see the long-term transition of major specialist kingdoms like Hollywood and the Music Industry being eroded slowly by generalist forces (YouTube and imgur, e.g.) Hollywood and the music industry (specialists) quake in fear as more independent sound and video (mostly bad, but some good) arrives on the web … people are bypassing the specialist facilitators and taking their generalist abilities to the field more quickly.
So, one way of watching what’s going on is to realize that the Internet, aka the modern-day wheel, is leveling playing fields everywhere — LOLCatz, which would never have survived in a pre-wheel universe, is now a commonplace notion to the point of being passe, YouTube is the opportunity for everyone to be a star, reddit lets everyone be a pundit, and movie theaters and bookstores are dying off.
Is this a bad thing? I don’t think so. It may be sad that some specialization is going away — but humanity benefits from these “wheel moments” … so I’m all for it. But then again, I’m just another generalist with an opinion, right?
Random Thoughts
- You don’t look into mirrors to see things you want to hide.
- It’s only when we smile that we open our hearts.
- If you eat only what feeds you, you will never enjoy what God has to offer that will make you grow.
- I never met a man I already knew.
- If you skip down the road on a sunny day, you’ll always remember your childhood.
- If tomorrow is as good as yesterday, then today is the middle of a good time.
- You don’t have to remember everything to figure something out.
- I ate a bug once, but not on purpose.
- I smiled into a lake the other day, it responded with sunlight.
- I love my wife, she told me why I’m a man, I built her a world to thank her.
- I made a cake in my mind once, but I couldn’t remember how.
- I need to write to be complete, watch this space.
Goodreads | Malcolm Mead The United States’s review of Here, There and Everywhere
Here, There and Everywhere by Geoff Emerick
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Geoff Emerick has the privilege of being the man who can claim to have done more direct engineering for the Beatles and subsequently the solo artists than anybody else. He also can boast some serious chops as a gifted engineer in his own right.
In the book, he talks about his experiences, primarily in the control room during sessions, in and around the Beatles. Imagine that your job involved something historic happening over there, in the conference room, and now you’re able to tell stories about how the people looked, acted, reacted and changed over time — that’s the intimacy you get with the book.
Interestingly, Emerick thinks like an engineer, and as a result most of his book is recalled by way of engineering milestones (he’ll say things like “that song had a really interesting set of effects done late at night, which even though it’s common now, had never been done before.” (that’s not a real quote)).
The history starts in the early 60’s and goes through to the present. He stays true to his own memories, and tends to avoid recollecting events of which he wasn’t witness, so it’s a pretty clear presentation of one man’s experiences and not so much a wandering set of opinions and speculations about other people’s feelings and attitudes. For example, in general he will choose to observe that John came in and was snapping at the people around him and not talking to Paul than to say that based upon the way they were acting, John and Paul had obviously had a major fight in the morning and were angry at each other.
He tends to favor Paul over the others a bit, but it seems to be both a result of his general proximity and emotional relationship with Paul as it is about his value of true musical talent in each musician.
My personal biggest take-away was the humanizing of the process of the art — the Beatles would work for hours and hours and hours to get a specific piece of a song right … which implies that they weren’t some sort of master geniuses who made no mistakes and could play anything as soon as they put their hands to it (though, duh, they’re still amazingly talented and geniuses all the same); and the other take-away I had was that, in many ways, “the Beatles” was more like 6 people — especially when they went into their studio years … John, Paul, George, Ringo, George Martin, and Geoff Emerick … with George Martin and Emerick somewhat replaceable, but still key elements of the original sound, not the music of course. Beatles music wasn’t just 4 lads, it was artists making raw material and others openly and clearly having input into the creative process and final product much more deeply than I thought (e.g. George Martin arranged much of the backing music and played on a number of tracks, even though he was “just” the producer).
It gets nominally dry at points when Emerick goes about discussing the engineering and artistic process of each song in some of the biggest albums (e.g. Sgt. Peppers and Revolver), but outside of that, it’s a pretty satisfying read.
Overall, if you’d like to see the real humanity of people behind the music of the Beatles, including the artists themselves — and you’re interested in removing the “shroud of amazing” without destroying the image of the men behind the music, this is a good book to read.
View all my reviews
Wear Me
Think of a shoe.
Is it yours?
Think of a hat.
Was it real?
Think of a belt,
Think of a shirt,
Think of some pants,
Kilt.
Think of a person.
Pick up the phone.
Causation and Validation in Prejudicial Interactions
A man hates another man because the other man wears green socks.
The first man, who wears blue socks, utilizes his powers to enforce a depredation of freedoms from the green socked man — thus carrying out a process of oppression upon the green socked man from a causation of hatred.
Another woman wears blue socks as well, but has no personal relationship with the man with green socks. She is neither cause nor participant in the oppression enforced over the green socked man. She is, however, aware of it — though she does not have a personal relationship with either of the two men.
Is the woman responsible for the oppression of the man with green socks?
——————–
For the sake of this argument, presume that she cannot wear anything but blue socks, that she has no choice in the matter, or at least perceives that she cannot change in any way.
The woman is a member of a group that is identified according to the rules defined by the blue socked man, a system of identification that was originated in hatred.
By simply existing, is this woman perpetuating the definitions that the man with blue socks uses to oppress the man with green socks?
——————–
The woman meets the man with green socks, and the man with green socks informs her that her character is flawed because she is party to the perpetuation of his oppression by simply existing.
——————–
Can you see how the woman in green socks might consider this a form of emotional oppression, imposed upon her by someone with preconceived notions that were originated out of hatred, and that she is oppressed because her only option for stopping this participation is to cease to exist, which is an alternative that cannot be met?
——————–
The answer to prejudicial oppression is not to call upon the members of a group that is perceived to be the same as the oppressors — it is to work with those people to enable them to identify as members of a different group, one that will work to counter-act the actual oppression.
——————–
If, instead, the man with green socks comes to the woman with blue socks and says, “While I see that you wear blue socks, I look past my own prejudice and recognize that blue socks are not a mandatory cause of oppression, and as such, I would like you to become a member of a new group, here have a hat.”, then the man in green socks and the woman in blue socks have an opportunity to become members of a new group, the hat wearers.
This new group must allow members to maintain their current identifications, but, by becoming a member of the hat wearers group, allow them the proactive separation of identity from the original oppressors.
The woman in blue socks is not required to deny her socks, she is just called to wear a hat, which will tell the man in blue socks that she is against his oppression, even though they wear the same socks.
The man in green socks, because he is a hat wearer, can be free to recognize the perceived opportunities that the woman in blue socks has to share, since they are now members of the same group, he is called to see her for the hat she wears and not for the socks she wears, which, have become a source of prejudice in his eyes and a process of emotional oppression over her.
Together, she becomes free from the emotional oppression that she has previously perceived from the man with green socks, and the man with green socks has a new ally in his battle against the oppression of hatred coming from the man with blue socks.
How the man with blue socks responds is somewhat superfluous, because he is specifically being isolated from the hat-wearing group, whose sole purpose is to countermand the oppression that he has created — and as such, his behavior becomes only a thing to overcome, while his opinions are summarily negated.
——————–
This is the common process of inter-group prejudicial dialog. A group that perceives it is being oppressed by another group seeks to challenge the members of the oppressing group first as a whole — but over time, the oppressed group must learn that the proper course for change is to identify the sub-sectors of the oppressing group that have no interest in participating with the oppression and RATHER THAN EMOTIONALLY OPPRESS them, offer a new group as an alternative.
The byproduct of this process is the segmentation of the oppressive group, which undermines its cohesiveness and eventually generates discord to a level that the group segments and re-identifies.
The most effective response to prejudice is alternative identification, not emotional oppression through blame.
Luxury vs. Excess
I’ll admit it — I like nice stuff, and I especially like my nice stuff to be done absolutely perfectly — otherwise I fall to my second favorite vice — complaining about nice stuff.
In my travels, I’ve had the opportunity to pursue some pretty nice places and some pretty nice stuff, but I’ve come across a layer of society that kind of makes me a little sick … the self-indulgent excess of the affluent.
I’m currently staying at an amazing resort — the Palmilla in Los Cabos, Mexico. It truly is a wonderful location, and its greatest detail is the mind-bendingly dedicated service of every member of the staff. Every single person works to say yes to your every whim, and they go above and beyond to force you to feel comfortable receiving your every whim … to feel not necessarily justified, but at least free to ask for that special something on the side, or that unique service that isn’t on the menu.
Should the rare event occur that they find you are at all dissatisfied, it is as if they have found out your clothes are actually on fire — they scramble to make you happy, and they are only happy themselves when you are… and the entire time, it happens with high-threadcount linens, and delicious food, and beautiful smells (they light incense on the pathways at night), and the constant loving and powerful sounds of the ocean in the background. This is the beauty of luxury … and this is what people hope for when they sit at home dreaming of luxurious living.
But sadly, even in luxury there is ugliness, and there are other parts of the human condition that must be catered to as well — and the worst one is the craven need for excess.
Luxury, as opposed to excess, is an apple pie made from the hand ground flour of a private wheat farm, grown specifically to be pre-roasted and prepared on that day and that day only, filled with sugar that has been extracted by the loving combs of dedicated cane growers who honor their craft, all mixed together with the slices of apple taken from the 10th year harvest of the ancient orchards on the mountainside, each apple captured by trained monkeys who only select the fruit that is at its moment of ripeness exactly at dawn.
Excess is having the entire pie served to one person, who then eats only one bite and walks away.
I believe it’s ok to want a little luxury in your life … but I find that too many people mistake that for excess, often to their own demise.
In the modern age, we no longer have 100 foot long dinner tables surrounded with men and women in their best evening wear watching as entire displays of food are presented only to be ignored … we are much more advanced nowadays. Excess comes in new forms, and the most simple and simple-minded is the over-priced every day object: the glass of coke for $10, the extra piece of toast with your eggs for $5, the towel at poolside for $15. Happily, Palmilla avoids most of these and is quite generous (in fact, I was given some sort of sponsored music gift card just for eating at a restaurant, how nice).
But some people don’t feel that it’s luxury unless it’s ridiculously priced — and this comes from a dark place in the soul. For example, as we planned our getaway, one of the last details our travel agent offered us was a car from the airport to the hotel and back again … for the mere price of $500. No, I didn’t miss that — that’s five hundred dollars… also known as a decent iPod or two. To drive from the airport and back (a 30 minute drive, not a voyage through the outback).
Of course, your standard normal human being hears that and just thinks, “how insane.” But there are people, and sadly I know them and even live among some of them, who would pay that — not because the car comes with its own built-in jacuzzi or something (it doesn’t), but because there’s an egregious rush to spending that much money on something mundane and acting (or even truly believing) like it doesn’t matter … you see, the modern form of excess is not waste (we all have to be green, after all), its being spendthrift.
Thankfully, Kathy and I decided that even though we’re coming here to this beautiful oasis of joy for 10 days, we are confident enough in our own finances that we don’t need to show affluence … so we told the travel agent we didn’t want the ridiculously expensive car … ironically, she was so seemingly shocked that we weren’t just big fat ugly American mouths, that she failed to offer to find something else … so Kathy got online and found a nifty van service for about $40 round-trip per person. Still a little pricey, but not “pasha visits the manor” pricey. (The travel agent even tried to “explain” it to me for a moment … “you see, some people like to ride the Mercedes to the…”, “Yeah, I know, that’s not us, thanks.”)
This industry of excess truly caresses a most craven characteristic in us all … the self-worship that comes from ignoring value. The Bible talks about Value constantly (as I teach often, see Ecclesiastes for more details), but more important, the point of honoring the true value of something is to avoid devaluing yourself. So how does that work?
Let’s use poor Paris Hilton as an example. You see, when Paris Hilton drops her gold-coated iPhone and decides to throw it away because its scratched, what she believes she is saying is that she is so important that gold-coated things mean nothing to her … or at least that’s her intent. The sad reality is that if you take all of those “things” away, there’s not much left of the girl, is there? However, what she’s inadvertently saying is that her worth is based on the things she doesn’t care about, her value is based on a negative — she’s not actually worth anything on her own … and that is how all “excess traps” work.
The excess trap is this — first you go to the fancy place that is very expensive, feeling kind of good about being able to afford it. Then they offer you the ridiculous car ride — rather than showing your disdain for excess, you sheepishly agree to it “just this once” because you don’t want them to think you can’t afford it … and then you try to enjoy riding in the Humvee or Mercedes from the airport, strutting in front of people who don’t really care a whit about you one way or another.
Then you get to the place and they offer you dinner, but instead of paying $80, you pay $200 … but again, you can’t mention it and the excess game continues — and hopefully you can afford it, but if you can’t, then you are likely just ignoring this insanity until you get home and weep in the privacy of your own home (or, if this was 2007, you’re putting it all on a credit card that’s tied to your home loan).
But here’s the reality — and the way to look at this if you ever get put in that position (for example, the next time they offer you the super-sized mondo popcorn at the movie theater (oh, they have smaller versions of excess? I did not know that!), excess putrefies the luxury of things. You should enjoy something because it is enjoyable — and perhaps pay a little bit more because you understand that luxury doesn’t come cheap … but don’t try to enjoy something simply because it is expensive… During this trip, I’ve done my best to do exactly that — get the nice cigar, not the stupid cigar — and so on.
Sadly, most Americans don’t get that … and so the luxury industry layers on thick coats of excess so people can pay stupid prices for mundane things and ignore the fact that it costs so much — in the vain hope that it will make them feel better about themselves and/or impress someone who isn’t paying attention at all. What bugs me the most is that it’s like peeing in the luxury pool, it’s the act of those who are actually the most crass, and it forces the rest of us to have to be more careful about where we swim and how we swim. Excess is not impressive, the biggest secret of the ultra-well-to-do (of which I am not a member) is that excess is what used to be called “nouveau riche”, it’s the crass sign of the lowest class trying to cope with new-found wealth. Sadly, where I live is populated highly with this ilk, or was … before the economic crash…
Here’s the secret, kiddos — and, I hate to admit, it took me a long time to learn this one — excess is for people who are faking it, luxury is for people who enjoy nice things. One is founded on pride, the other is founded on value. I believe in value, and I am proud of that fact.
So, tonight, when I ordered my bacon cheeseburger and pitcher of apple juice … I decided it wasn’t acceptable to pay $86 for it … and even though I ate it, I’ve fallen back to one other pastime I guiltily admit enjoying … I’ve notified the staff that I expect someone to discuss this situation with me in the morning when I get up — whenever that is… and I’m going to make people squirm by discussing frugality … because, well, it’ll be fun to discuss money with people who think we’re all supposed to pretend not to care… and well, I guess that’s a luxury too.
New Year’s Resolution Advice
I try not to make resolutions, but a lot of people make them, and this post is about the most popular kind — fitness. It’s about how to make that work, now that it’s January 1 and you realize that the resolution is no longer about tomorrow — it’s the “today” of the thing.
As anyone who has known me over the last year can tell you — I’m generally into fitness now. I used to be someone who wanted to look better, and I used to be someone who did diet management for a while — but I could never make it “stick” — because I’m not Arnold Schwarzenegger, or one of those beanpole girls in spandex — I’m a normal guy who doesn’t like to hurt, doesn’t like to get out of his chair, and definitely doesn’t like to fail.
But last year, around February, I started working out. I went to the gym and surprisingly, it stuck. I’m more fit than I’ve ever been — but I’m still not one of those pictures of the guy with the super abs saying “I was just like you!” I’m actually just like you — I’d rather read a book, or eat a donut or … more realistically, get a little more work done and try to stay on top of everything else in my life.
So what changed?
Well, I did a few things differently — and they were all in how I think, combined with the actions to make it happen.
Rule #1: Don’t Trap Yourself
does this sound familiar? “I’m gonna sign up for a full year at the gym, then I’ll have to go!”
That doesn’t work, save your money. Now that I’m a regular at the gym, I’ve had chats with some of my friends behind the counter and the reality is that they get a lot of business this time of year — and while they are positive about it and supportive — it takes about 3 weeks for the majority of the “resolvers” (that’s you) to give up. Sadly, even though my friends at the gym try to get them coming back, they don’t … and they’re all on 1-year programs (my friends aren’t stupid, they take the money, they’re at least hopeful) — and the majority of those 1-year programs end up being empty money or early cancellation fees.
Exercise is about gaining command. It’s about you becoming in charge of the thing that you don’t like — your body. Some day, you want to be able to go to the gym and exercise with the same fluidity and ease that you go to the kitchen and make food, don’t you? It shouldn’t be a trap, or a trick, or a self-motivating pain. In psychology, they call the “sign up for a year” trap a negative reinforcement. If I don’t do this, I get zapped.
But who wants to do something just because you’re avoiding getting zapped — for an entire year? Blech. That’s totally demotivating.
Get a 1-week trial entry. I’m totally serious. Give your inner commander all the pompous freedom to sneer at this entire experience and walk away. If they don’t have 1-week trials, get a month. It will cost more than a month from a 1-year program — but it will definitely cost less than an entire year of lost fees. Get the shortest commitment you can find — and even get a free trial if you can. As the commander, demand of yourself to prove it to you, and THEN you’ll commit the money.
See, this is hurdle number one. You have to be in control… and you know what happens two weeks from now if this isn’t working and you’re in a 1-year commitment? Well, your inner commander decides to (rightly) prioritize other things, you miss days and then your commander spends a lot of time accepting your apologies that it was a bad idea to have wasted that much money, and we better just avoid doing that again, right? You not only become the one who failed, but now it’s expensive and you’re deeper in the muck. That’s not how to take command of your inner process.
So rule number one is don’t give command to the money.
Rules #2: Other people are dead to me
I’m a regular at the gym now. I’m that normal looking guy laying on his back over in the corner pushing big dumbbells with headphones on. That’s me, ok?
You come in, you see me, you figure you gotta pick up some big dumbbells too, or else I’m gonna look at your wimpy little maneuver and laugh internally, right?
Or, maybe you’re mature enough to realize that it’s not about what I think, that it’s about what you think and my opinion doesn’t matter.
Either way, you’ve actually already lost the internal battle. You’re still thinking about my opinion — you’re letting other people into your head. Don’t. We’re all dead to you — this is about you and you — nobody else — not trainers, not other gym members, not friends, not anything — this is you and you and only you.
What I, and every other regular in that gym is actually thinking when you walk in is … nothing. We might notice another human being has walked in the room — but exercise is a solitary experience.
Even when you go to Jazzercise, or some class program — it’s still a solitary experience. Sure, during the setup and the aftermath, there’s chatting and talk about the family, and a new outfit — but when you’re there jumping up and down on that accursed step while a techno-beat pounds underneath the shouted commands of your leader — you are alone with you … and so is everybody else. Nobody’s really watching you. Keep them out of your head.
Self-consciousness is a major motivation killer in the gym. If, like me, you’ve got a bit of a gut when you walk into the gym — you’re gonna feel like everyone notices it … or you might be concerned that your workout isn’t the coolest looking moves — or whatever. But the reality is that nobody cares — because we’re all thinking things like “8…9…oh this hurts so much…10.” Why would we look at you? The reality is that anybody who’s opinion would matter (regulars, fit people) are so into their own heads that they don’t care about your situation… so be alone with your solitude — the rest of us sure are. We might be polite between sets, but otherwise, you’re just there, like a water fountain, or a door.
So, in essence, you’re alone in that gym. Take command. There seem to be other people in your gym, but the commander in your head doesn’t care — the commander wants to get to YOUR machines, that are waiting for you. In fact, motivate yourself by ignoring the other people. Be courteous — but be ninja … I’m not here to make you smile, friend — I’m here to get at my machine, which you happen to be using right now. Even if you’re exercising with a friend, the two of you need to admit that, at some point, my effort won’t burn your fat.
So rule number 2 — go it alone, baby — nobody’s watching … I promise promise promise.
Rule #3: Music is Life
This is pretty short and sweet. The music at the gym sucks. Period. It’s because they need to play stuff that everyone can enjoy, so it rotates — sometimes it’s decent, sometimes it’s lame, sometimes it’s awful. Bring an iPod, bring in-ear headphones with a long enough cord. Plug in, shut out, and command. There’s gotta be a good tune for that, right?
Personally, I’ve found that music I really like is more important than “drive music” with a killer beat and all that. Exercise is a solitary endeavor, and well, you gotta get into your head. So pick that music that’s gonna make you a hero in your head — whether it’s the story about the intelligentsia who listens to Bach while the grunting masses torment themselves around you, or the post-punk stealth destroyer who is listening to the Smiths while everyone else is burning mall fat — whatever the music and however it makes you feel — pick stuff that you like, and listen to it. No song in the world is going to make a major difference in your workout (unless you’re doing aerobics in a class to the beat, duh), but music that you don’t like will definitely slow you down.
Rule #4: The Tiny Way
So you come into the gym, and you’re staring at machines, and weights, and a room filled with people running on treadmills and all that crap. You’ve got your head wrapped around this command thing I keep talking about. But now what?
Shocking truth — in the first day, or the first week - it doesn’t matter. Period. Right now, and for the first THREE WEEKS, this isn’t about the exercise — it’s about getting into the gym consistently, and doing something that requires some effort, but not too much. It’s about building the habit, and about taking command of the situation for your own.
So when you come in — you should not focus on making a major program that involves a thousand mighty things at once in preparation for a year of suffering. You should embrace what I call the “Tiny Way.”
The Tiny Way is simple. Do stuff, with enough weight that you can feel it, but not so much weight that it hurts or even stings. As a figurative example, a piece of paper is too light, a big book has enough heft that you can feel it but it won’t hurt you, a stack of books is too much and will burn you out.
Am I suggesting actually something as light as a paperback book? No. I’m talking about using 5-pound weights, or setting the machine at 1 or 2. It should NOT be so light that it doesn’t engage your muscles … because then your limbs will flail around pointlessly, but it should not be so hard that your body hurts tomorrow. Not right now — not for the first three weeks.
Let’s use a simple dumbbell curl as an example. Let’s say you pick up a half-pound dumbbell and look to curl it … that thing has the weight of a few pieces of paper … what’s your arm going to do? It’s going to move freely, and not really curl — you’re going to be doing the equivalent of just moving your arm up and down, and since there’s no resistance at all, you’re going to potentially move your arm incorrectly, since you’re not fighting gravity — you may move your arm at an angle, or rotate your shoulder, or other such motions that you don’t want… and it will be pointless.
Same example — but now, the dumbbell weighs the same as a small truck. What are you going to do? Your arm is going to heave, strain, you’re going to involve your shoulder, neck, back and possibly even legs and butt to get that giant thing off the ground. You might use two hands, and well — that’s not good at all, is it? You’ll use muscles you shouldn’t — and you’ll hurt hugely tomorrow and the next day — and there’s nothing quite as challenging as trying to get into the gym when you hurt … blech.
So most people try for the middle — some weight that is heavy, but not killer. Wrong.
That weight, the “normal” weight — is going to become the truck by your eighth repetition.
No — go for the dumbbell that weighs 5 pounds. It weighs about the same as a laptop, maybe a little more or less. Maybe you go for a 7.5 weight, but nothing more. You can feel the weight, but you’re not “working” the weight.
Now do 3 sets of 8 reps, with a minute in between. That’s it. If that weight is really like paper to you, go for something a little heavier, 10 maybe … if it’s a little heavy, go for lighter … but don’t go for big — not now — we’re in the tiny way … please, I beg you … keep it tiny … the least you can do and still feel it.
Go and find another exercise — do the same thing.
Treadmills are set to flat, and just the barely fast enough speed to make you go past walking into a gentle jog.
Do that for four exercises, give yourself a high-five — and walk out of the gym. Then come back in exactly two days. You have commanded the gym to your will, congrats.
This is the Tiny Way … and if anyone looks at you (which I’ve promised you they won’t, but you’re potentially still worried about it), you say to them … “Yes… young Skywalker… I’m a master … I’m performing the Tiny Way… it is my means of commanding my own destiny. What are you doing? Sweating to the Stars, that’s interesting… you are using my machine, please move.”).
Rule #5: Developing a Habit and a Program
Ok, Malcolm, I’m still reading. I’m gonna go into that gym, become isolated in my own brain — do the Tiny Way thing for three weeks, come in 3 times a week (you get two days off every third visit), and own this once and for all. What then?
My answer is simple. If you really do this for three weeks — by the end of that three weeks, you’ll be engaged, you’ll be interested and liking it … wanting more and owning it for yourself — not doing it for other people, or your money. You’ll go online and find starter programs that work — or if you have an iPhone, you’ll get a program like iPump which I love (use the Beginner Strength Training program). Or you’ll go to the Nike site and begin a program of running or something … but you’ll be coming to it with authority and ownership, and a commitment to yourself, not a trainer, your spouse, your empty dreams or promises of tomorrow.
After your fourth week, you’ll be doing things to change the program to fit your style … you’ll be talking to trainers, visiting websites, building a simple program of running, whatever. But YOU will be doing it.
Whether you get a trainer at that point, or sign up for a class, or point yourself at a 12-week online program, or whatever … it’s you. You’re now in the driver’s seat, with a habit of going to the gym 3 times a week, and enjoying the core satisfaction of getting it done regularly … and nobody else is involved but you!
A few final words and advice
If you want to pick a trainer (after your 3 weeks, but preferably even later), make sure that person is about mechanics, not about taking over to the point that you can’t drive the thing yourself. A good trainer will motivate you — but many trainers get so used to being “motivators” that they get in the way of people who are trying to be self-motivated.
Get someone who will talk to you about your goals and develop a program that you do alone, not someone who ties all your forward progress to visits with the trainer. I’ve been blessed to have two great trainers — one is now a close friend and was patient and able to work through some of the hardest parts of my “head work” while I got my brain around things — the other is a mechanic with skills.
I would have liked to have the friend be the mechanic, but it became too close for me, I wasn’t “alone” in my head with my workouts anymore, he was there and I was doing the workouts for him — I cared about his opinion too much. So the commander had to let him go … since exercise is solitude. The new guy is really nice, but is almost like a mathematician — he just gives me the work and then sort of wants me to leave him alone … which I love. If I had a trainer that wanted to talk about my kids — I’d need to run screaming, because eventually I’d be in that person’s world, instead of the other way around. So pick a trainer who remains detached, but knows what he or she is talking about. Don’t become too close, it’ll screw up your solitude.
Finally, one last important point — it’s not about the fat. Repeat that after me. It’s not about the fat. I’m serious … read that out loud — hear your own voice say it. It’s NOT ABOUT THE FAT.
If you get a regular regimen of exercise at any level into your sedentary life — the fat will burn. It has to. Your body is currently sitting at idle — exercise moves it … you have to burn fat. But if you sit around looking at the fat, trying to exercise it away — you’re going to demotivate yourself … it won’t burn fast enough, you won’t like you, etc. It’s not about the fat … it’s about the regimen. It’s not about the weight you’re lifting, or the distance you’re running, or the number of crunches you do (there are few crunches in the Tiny Way, btw), it’s about the habit of going to the gym, putting on some music and having some alone time. Everything else is the world trying to cut into the commander’s sphere of influence … that includes fat.
After the first three weeks of regular simple exertion, you will see a difference. If you have a habit built by then, I promise you that — from start, first day in the gym — to eight weeks, you WILL lose fat in a satisfying way, if you keep consistent. I promise. Let it be a surprise — let it creep up on you … ignore the measurements and all that other crap … measure how often you get into the gym … keep the weight and load somewhere that you can feel it but not where you work hard — keep it Tiny, and go win.
THEN — and ONLY THEN — if you’ve proven it to yourself, and your inner commander agrees … sign up for a year at the gym.
Headed to Texas with noise in my head
So I’m sitting on the plane, preparing to watch some abysmally sad little movie about some guy who’s little brother dies and then we get to watch him have a nervous breakdown in which his little brother continues to haunt him (because, after all, the angst couldn’t be there if his little brother was alive, that’s too difficult to write), complete with meaningful soundtrack (“you promised we’d play ball again…”) — but thankfully I’m not listening to it. There’s a college kid next to me who goes to UW, and is traveling with her bother to Texas to see their mom, and while I sit here typing away into my blog entries, she is sorting her semi-private photos on her laptop — it’s really kind of creepy to watch her sort through pajama pictures, and other such nonsense while I’m just sitting here … she should know better — but do I want to be the weird stranger who advises her to be more careful? No … so instead I’m blogging about it anonymously onto the Internet, where it belongs.
The movie seems to have progressed to the point that the older brother is about to take junior in the car with him, for the fateful trip to the game, which will lead to the car crash that kills the boy … you know what — I hope that nobody on any of these flights has actually LOST a family member in a car crash — because, well … that would hurt, no? Thanks Continental — you suck and are insensitive. Way to go… oh, and Merry Christmas, too.
Meanwhile, why am I headed to Texas? Because Kathy’s cousin is getting married — a week before Christmas — and while that’s ok, it’s also a bit of a drag too (oh, look, she’s uploading pictures of her visit with friends to a baseball game … it would also seem that some friend of hers graduated from Seattle University) … but our travel (the boy is dying, hey it’s Ray Liotta as a paramedic — wow, Ray, how far you’ve fallen) … so the trip could have been a problem, but instead we’re traveling with Grandma Betty (Sam, Sammmm! (that’s the dead little brother’s name) pictures of the little boy is dead … thanks again Continental — pan to the Boston Red Sox hat — and the coffin … wow … this is unbelievable) … but anyway … we’re traveling with Grandma Betty, which means we get to put her in a wheelchair (though she likely doesn’t need it) and get to the front of the lines … woot … (well, at least the movie is getting to the part where the little brother haunts the big brother … “you promised we’d play ball again…”) — so traveling at Christmas-time wasn’t so bad, because we have our “get to the front of the line” little old lady pass … (looks like the UW girl had some neat camping trip with her boyfriend — near a river, this summer or Spring … seems romantic — they might have gone to the baseball game with mom…).
So — as we head to Texas, I’m drawn to thinking about what it means to celebrate Christmas and be with your loved ones. Clearly, modern media would have us believe that it’s about being haunted by our loved ones — and clearly our youth would seem to think that it’s a relatively public experience that has no need for privacy or protected intimacy — and potentially my wife’s family thinks it has to do with random scheduling and limitless free time — but I think it has to do with knowing who you are (wow, now the big brother works in the graveyard where his little brother is buried — that’s just maudlin) … after all, family is not only who we are related to — but an amalgam of who we are, good and bad — pretty and ugly and everything in between. They reflect us back to ourselves.
Perhaps that’s why (her boyfriend loves him some beer), when we get together during this season — we (enter the love interest in the movie — angry at the graveyard, friend of a friend — complaining about the flowers, throwing them down — noticing older brother — hey, you’re cute, her eyes say … but his only say “I’m still grieving because I’m the center of this movie and my grief is what it’s about (at Christmastime)”) when we get together with our family during this time — we often have trouble and get our dysfunction on … it’s not that we can’t really stand Grandpa’s incessant stories about the dog, or Aunt Jane’s drinking problems (well, yes, we can’t stand that, but you get what I mean)… it’s because we struggle with seeing so much of ourselves at a family gathering (oh my, now we’re watching black and white video on the laptop of the the two of them laying on their backs while he drinks beer and she kisses his cheek (someone owns a Porsche Carrera)) … (the brother traveling with her on the plane bought booze for her — how sweet) … because when we have vacation dinner with our families, what we’re really doing is having dinner with ourselves … and more often than not, we don’t like that … which I guess can be sad, in a way.
What’s it like to sit with a table full of yourself? Seeing the fact that you’re a bit judgmental, maybe a little more outwardly nuts than you want to think you are … it’s almost like a psycho-spiritual version of listening to your own voice on a recording … you don’t like to hear it — but you also have to admit that it’s what other people experience all the time (wow, she was like 10 feet from some elk during the camping trip, that’s amazing) (she really thinks B&W is artistic — she’s turning a lot of photos into B&W) … you’re forced to realize that you’re not the dialed in person that you pretend to be … that the “little flaws” you try to hide actually define you outwardly and the reality is that people see them pretty clearly …
Well, there’s two ways to respond to such a forced realization — accept it and grow, or deny it and rage at the reminders … aka your family. I think the sad part is that many of us tend to be ragers at the family — refusing to accept that we really are as outwardly messed up as these people appear, and that in fact, we’re just human like them … so we boil over and start yelling … and of course, while we’re boiling over for their reminders, they are boiling over for our reminders and presto — it’s dysfunction for the holidays.
(Aha — now she’s tagging the photos with names — her name is Lauren Garcia — her boyrfriend is Jeffrey Bergeron … in case you know them … tell her the guy sitting next to her blogged about her being more careful with her personal information … she goes to UW and has friends at Seattle U … she also has a friend Trishia Thompson, and her brother’s name is Austin (mom is Connie)). (I guess Jeff’s brother’s name is Jonathan)).
Anyway … there’s a better way to go … don’t blame your family for reminding you of what’s wrong with you — instead … be like this girl, and wear it on your sleeve in your mind … commit to being open with the love that you feel (oh look, we’re playing baseball with ghosts again) … be fearless in what the world sees … (I think her parents are divorced — the man who is presumably her dad, Bill, lives alone with a little dog) … be open with the world about what you’re showing and in many ways, you’ll be free from the concern of what’s discovered … and if you’re free from the worry of what’s discovered, you become free from your own concerns about what YOU discover, because it becomes just an observation instead of judgment.
I’ve actually had successful holiday dinners — but they tend to be more with Kathy’s family than my own — and that’s not because her family doesn’t have its own issues — it’s just that I don’t see myself in her family … so I don’t have reminders of me… but get me with my own family — and presto … it’s ouch time …
So, what is this season really about? Of course, it’s about remembering the sacrifice and loss that God walked through for us — intentionally giving his own son so we could live with Him again — but it’s also about learning to be comfortable with ourselves, and perhaps even learn to enjoy being with our own rambling while sitting on a plane, watching other people’s intimacy and fictional renditions of the need to stay connected to the ones we love … or maybe it’s just the presents.
Rain and Shine
As I sit here, on the ferry, headed across Puget Sound, smelling the cigarette stench of the people around me — and watch the amazing crowds of sleeping people, all catching a minute’s rest on their way home, I get thinking about the dark night that’s outside — since it’s almost December, and the time for the daylight hours on the 5:30 ferry are gone.
I love a run-on sentence, btw — I love the jabbering ramble of a well-trained mind that just wants to say it all in a second but doesn’t have a language efficient enough to make that happen — a mind that wants to say something about anything, but instead just runs on and on … saying nothing in particular, but trying to do it with flourish … is that too trite? Maybe — but well, at least I’m still sitting here on the ferry, thinking … that’s progress, no?
We had a deal fall through for the company recently, and ironically, I’m trapped in that box where, in order to tell people that it’s not a big deal, I sound like it’s a big deal because I’m talking about it. I’m not sure what happened in the deal, but I’m suddenly surrounded by people watching me to make sure I’m ok … and frankly, nothing has changed in my life to make me anything but ok — but then again, I’m an anchor for some people, so I guess they like to know I’m ok — I’m ok 
When I got back from Africa, God told me to write — what else is new? — but this time, I have a topic … the Ecclesiastes study … so I’m working on that. In the meantime, I have to keep going back and forth in life, sitting on this ferry, smelling the great unwashed, watching them go through life asleep — wondering what I’m even doing in this dark part of the world, rambling on and on.
The Ecclesiastes study is all about Stewardship, translated into current modern language, that means its about business and the business of personal life as well … how we manage our personal resources, how we manage our corporate resources, and how we do it all according to God’s Will and not our own. I had the opportunity to finish the notes that God virtually dictated to me in Africa — so I’m pretty hopeful I’ll be able to turn it into a teaching series for my friends in Africa, and then possibly give it to a few other people in my life who might need it — I hope that amounts to something for God’s Glory.
Have I mentioned that this guy smells like an ashtray? I think I have.
I have some other ideas about writing — what else is new? — and they all revolve around frameworks I’ve had in the past, except a few that revolve around interpreted ideas from Biblical study … I don’t have the discipline to write anything constructive — but I bet if I looked at the amount of typing I do in a year, it’s at least a book anyway … so what’s the big deal — I should just email my book to myself — then figure out how to publish it … whatever.
It’s like we all sit around, half of us asleep, half of us awake but isolated in our own worlds of media and self-involvement — trolling back and forth on our little paths, from bed to kitchen to vehicle, to work, to vehicle, to home, to bed to kitchen … with a few jaunts off our trail — day in and day out — while the sky gets light and the sky gets dark … could you imagine if we all just got together and opted to make a change for a day … imagine if everyone in this boat decided to give a week together, at the same time, and go to Africa, or Mexico, or even Tacoma, and do whatever was necessary to make a change of a single block of area … there’s probably a few thousand people on this boat — just on this boat … and yet we all scatter and keep disorganized and wonder why nothing changes.
When we headed to Africa, Mike and I talked about the amazing number of “mzungus” (white people) who come to Africa to “make a difference” … each and every one spitting into the wind, making a momentary change, or contributing to something that just decays in the fiery destruction of African Time — and we talked about how amazing it would be if all the charitable people in the world, every single one who was dedicated to doing something in Africa in a year — if all those people decided to come at the same time — in the same month, and coordinate with each other — and do something like build roads across Africa … imagine if you could harness all that meaningless noise into a single “Charity Month”… all the empty lectures, all the “blogsites for a better tomorrow”, all the tons of materials that arrive and go nowhere — all the millions of dollars in donations — coordinate them ALL into one place, one program, one motion, just once … imagine that … it’d be good.
But meanwhile, I’m still sitting on this boat, promising my friends that the deal isn’t that important and that I’m ok, really — and watching the world fall asleep while the sky goes dark. I just wish I could write … that’s all.
Home again, home again
Ok.
So we’ve been home for a few days now, and the jet lag is beginning to ease up — it was brutal for a day or two — the kind of thing where you’re just sitting there and must sleep but you don’t want to because it’s 2pm and the birds are chirping … but then you must sleep and you begin to think it might just be ok after all — since after all, nobody would blame … and then it’s 6pm and you know you won’t be sleeping until next week. Bogus.
Had a few days of that.
Things are pretty good — the trip back was LOOOOOoooooooooooong … about 32 hours of travel — but Mike is a great travel companion and we’re just glad to be home. Not a lot to report about the flights home — lots of sitting, and then in between, trying to sleep sitting up, like some sort of hitman, or maybe the Elephant man or something (he couldn’t lie down to sleep, brutal) … but then we got home and Kathy, Nancy and the kids were there at the airport to meet us, which was really cool! We were so glad to se them .. voyaged home together, said a quick prayer at the ferry terminal and committed to meet again on Saturday, which we did.
The Saturday dinner was pretty cool — the Forneys came over, we all compared notes — we prayed out the mission (an act of Closure before God), and now it’s Sunday, I’m headed to the church to teach Sunday School … and there’s not a lot else to report.
Life went on in our absence, we had a great time on safari and back — we’re glad to be home and it’s almost time for Turkey Day, which is sort of weird considering that we were just in Africa a few days ago — but well, once you let go, the surreal is easier to swallow.
Glad to be back, thanks for reading the blog — as usual, I have dreams of writing and then obstacles of motivation — but I think this trip has been a good opportunity to get a little writing done here, and you all are the reason why. Thanks for that, and God Bless YOU in all your journeys and adventures!
Much love.
M.