Journal - Recharge
Why are Recharge weeks so important?
Devoting a week to enhancing your skills through curiousness, play, practice, and recovery is just as crucial as the weeks dedicated to competition, testing, or anything in between. In fact, it plays an essential role in maximizing the effectiveness of a training program and in life in general.
If you have experience with designing or following strength and conditioning training programs, you may recognize the term "Deload" as a way to indicate a reduction in the overall load and intensity of training. This type of break is often used after a significant physical and psychologically demanding event in one's life or a block of training that can consist of two, three, or four hard weeks of training.
The goal is to balance training objectives and daily activities while prioritizing the rejuvenation and healing of the body and mind. This can be achieved by consuming nutritious foods, staying hydrated, establishing healthy sleep patterns, minimizing stress levels, and letting the mind wander.
To simplify what a recharge week is, it is recommended to reduce the training volume and intensity by 50% from the recent highest week within the current training block. This week or period serves as a recharge and transition phase.
This recharge intention is actually more of a vibe or feeling than just a decrease in stress load and intensity both mentally and physically. You see, within the scope of strength and conditioning, it follows the principles of periodization, which involves managing fatigue between training sessions and lifestyle factors. Known as fatigue management.
This principle has been tested and proven over the years to be quite effective. Managing fatigue is a unique skill that is always evolving. To improve your ability to recover efficiently, it's important to practice and remain curious about finding the right methods for your mind and body.
Compost Pile - Auto-Regulation
2022 Recon Challenge
Auto-regulation is a tool that helps you become more aware of your surroundings both internally and externally. It's important to approach auto-regulation with a sense of individuality, as it requires a feeling of awareness unique to each person. To help you get a sense of how you're feeling before or after a training session, ask yourself these questions:
- Are you excited to train today or feel burned out?
- Do you feel any tightness or soreness in your body?
- Did you meet your performance goals yesterday?
- Are you feeling happy, hungry, and energized?
Auto-regulation helps your mind and body communicate effectively, finding a balance to avoid added stress during tasks or activities. It's important to recognize that everyone experiences the world differently and has unique lifestyles. While auto-regulation can be used to determine energy and exertion output during exercise or tasks, it's not a numerical scale. It's a skill set that's valuable not only in training programs but in everyday life.
Journal - We Are Teachers
First and foremost, learning can happen in almost any environment if the educator or teacher understands that they must be able to recognize the individuals as humans first, then learners second. When it comes to a higher education setting, most learners are either coming directly from high school or have taken a small break from a formal setting of education of learning.
This creates a few issues if the educator or teacher does not pay attention. Everyone in the classroom setting has different life experiences with education in all areas of learning. That can be either formal, non-formal, self-directed, or online (Merriam & Baumgartner, 2020). The first step in intentionally personalizing learning comes from understanding and comprehending that their students are humans and come from many life experiences that have built a foundation of learning for them, and it is different for everyone in any educational setting.
A second step would be to find out a bit more about the students in their class and this comes from having personal conversations in a formal and non-formal setting or assessments and questionnaires to help build a better picture of who the human they are teaching. This allows the educator to paint a better picture of the student and their learning style and educational learning history.
The third step would come from being able to show that they are well-organized, knowledgeable, open to learning/listening to their students, and caring (Merriam & Baumgartner, 2020).
As an educator, it’s important to recognize that every individual has a unique way of learning. Being able to identify these methods can help in providing effective instruction, both on an individual level and when teaching a group.
One effective way to engage students is through relatable storytelling and the timing of real-life experiences by educators tying what it is they are teaching to their students. Additionally, educators can also demonstrate the skills they are teaching in front of or with students, such as dancing, exercising, or creating art, to provide detailed guidance at a micro level. This approach can enhance students’ understanding and awareness of the nuances of what they are learning, helping them to consume the material.
By taking a low-stress, low-skill approach to learning, individuals can better retain information. This foundation can then be built upon in higher stress or more challenging environments, allowing learners to adapt and improve their abilities to learn.
As educators, it is important to acknowledge that individuals are human beings with emotions, minds, hearts, and feelings. Providing them with the necessary tools to endure higher forms of learning involves recognizing their innate abilities to absorb knowledge.
It is the responsibility of educators to foster growth in higher education for individuals from all backgrounds. This entails providing the necessary nourishment to allow learners to explore their abilities and retain and apply what they have learned to real-life experiences and situations.
Compost Pile
Never let success go to your head, and never let failure get to your heart. - Ziad K. Abdelnour
I heard this insightful quote from a British ultra-runner named Tom Evans during a podcast called “Free Trail.” He spoke of the importance of strengthening one’s mental fortitude while enduring long-duration races. He states he speaks with his Sport Psychologist more than his strength coach and physical therapist.
It is important to note that in order to thrive in life and in these types of endeavors, one’s mental state must be secure.
Our greatest challenge is not to conquer external foes, but to overcome the doubts and fears within ourselves that hinder our progress. If we want, we can possess a multifaceted mind that works in sync with our hearts.
Evans’ words brought back memories of a project I undertook a few years back. The project involved developing mental defenses and offenses to tackle internal struggles.
When experiencing self-doubt and self-sabotage, finding effective strategies for positive self-talk takes self-exploration. However, it is crucial to combat the negative thoughts that potentially lead to feeling defeated. Negative self-talk can be incredibly powerful, turning into the knife centimeters away from slicing an artery; drawing blood leading to quitting and giving up on life. The point is to acknowledge these thoughts but never, ever act on them.
Simple, maybe, but it creates an argument that once that far deep in the hole, it is impossible to get out. Life can be unforgiving, regardless of one’s status. However, we have a special ability to learn and build and gain the strength to combat internal battles.
These mental defenses and offenses don’t need to be complex and complicated. They require simple and practical points of performance for effective behaviors in such instances. To unmask internal wounds brings a heart of purposeful courageous acts that lead to growth and progress.
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Thanks for reading.
GB3 /AIMH
Micro-Essay-Moral Truth
As I aim down the scope of my 240 Gulf machine gun, my heart races and my cheek rests against the buttstock. I try to steady my hand and place the red arrow on the moving dirt bike in the distance. The scorching heat of the afternoon creates waves of heat rising from the ground, turning the landscape into shades of brown. The clear blue sky provides optimal fighting conditions for the Taliban.
I felt sweat trickling down my forehead and onto the buttstock, providing some relief from the scorching heat. I try to steady my index finger on the metal trigger but it is hard with shaking hands preparing to unleash a barrage of bullets. I take a few deep breaths to slow my heart rate down, keeping my focus on the enemy fighter who wore sandals, a pair of binge pants, a dark top, and a black beard that blended into his dark sun-beaten brown skin with a sturdy stature.
It may surprise many to learn that the Taliban fighters were slightly bigger than the Viet Cong fighters, although still smaller than the average American warfighter. It is true as the saying goes, “Never judge a man by his size, but by his heart,” and these fighters certainly carried a fierce will to live and fight. They fought with their heart and soul and showed bravery and determination, no different from the Recon Marines to my left and right.
My eyes squint as they adjust to the sight before me like I'm in a virtual reality game. I scan the individual in front of me, checking for the telltale sign of a rifle strap to his body before deciding whether to pull the trigger or not. It's a decision that weighs heavily on me, both ethically and morally. My heart is now pounding in my throat, my hands start to become tingly, and waves of electrical snakes crawl throughout my body. It meant he was fair game, and he understood the context of the game we both are partaking in.
Recognizing, I hold the power to allow this man to pass or end his life. It's important to acknowledge that if I choose not to take action, it may lead to increased danger for us and a loss of control over the area. The problem with that is it opens the door to an increase in ambushes and improvised explosive devices. Putting us at risk when trying to remain in control of this area of operations.
During these last couple of summer months in Trek Nawa in 2010, Charlie Company and the other platoons of the 1st Recon Battalion built a reputation based on the approach, “Take No Prisoners Mindset,” cause our rules of engagement left our hands free to do what we needed to survive. The homes and villages we occupied for fighting positions and forward operation bases would leave the villagers hiding women and children getting them out of the area. Due to not wanting to be casualties of a war, yet found themselves in the middle of one of the most hostile areas since the Battle of Marjah a few months earlier.
Maybe it was a good thing, all the men to my left and right knew as a collective we were to bring havoc and chaos and that is it. Nothing more, nothing less, play offense from the get-go and be the aggressors. Each one of us foamed at the mouth, as we knew what needed to be accomplished. As a collective, we sought out violence every chance we got.
I find my heartbeat is back in my chest, after taking a few inhales and exhales, the dirt bike begins to speed up. It is now or never. This machine gun was not only for precision shooting, it was also built for moments like these. When I have a Taliban fighter in my crosshairs, riding across a road within six hundred meters with plenty of range to do damage. Now, all I have to do is place a barrage of bullets a few meters ahead of the moving bike.
Inside my mind, it screams, “Don’t Do It,” but I know deep in my heart what is about to happen. It will protect those to my left and right, and continue to carry the reputation that we are, “The Sons of Satan.”
What no one shares about a war story is that it happens so fast.
My teammate who is holding security with me screams, “You Got’em!!!”
In my mind, DID I? It all happened so fast, no more dirt bike, no more human threat. Just smoke from my barrel, brown dust from the brown rocky road. All I felt is the power of the recoil into my shoulder, my finger squeezing the trigger. Did I close my eyes? All I remember was applying the foundation principles of hitting a moving target by placing the barrage of bullets a few meters ahead of this moving object which will eventually drive directly into the bullets.
Writing this story feels unreal, make-believe, like a dream. One that still raises my heart rate with the same tingly shaking hands I felt before pulling the trigger.
Journal -Effort
As I trek through the undulating mountainous terrain, I am struck by the feeling of electric pulses coursing through my legs. The sensation is invigorating, and with each energetic jolt, the weight of fatigue lifts, leaving me feeling weightless and free. This experience serves as a powerful reminder that achieving great adventures requires intentional practice and the ability to push through difficulties. By maintaining a mental state that allows my psychological power to override my physical response to tiredness, I can persevere and achieve my goals.
In the world of writing, it is often said that writers must write every day to hone their craft. While this may work for some, others may benefit from taking breaks to rest and regenerate their skills. It is important to give ourselves space to experience life events and explore different identities, as these experiences can be a source of inspiration and creativity.
Endurance is a topic that I frequently write about, as it is intimately intertwined with our existence. Both require taking action and pushing through difficulties to achieve our goals. The human experience is often described as a journey of endurance, where we must find the strength to overcome obstacles and persist in the face of adversity.
War is also a powerful storytelling experience that leaves audiences questioning the truth behind even the smallest of details. It is a unique opportunity to explore the complexities of the human experience and to share stories that can only be told through personal lived experiences.
From my perspective, the belief that writers must write every day is not a hard and fast rule that applies to everyone. Consistency and a love for writing can come from living a life that energizes us to put pen to paper. Endurance and existence are intertwined, and it is up to us to find the balance that works best for us as individuals.
Compost Pile
I received a text yesterday asking if I was still writing. My answer was settled, but inside my heart fired away like an RPG “FUCK YEA.” It looks a bit different at the moment, deep into my Master's Program. The class I am in right now is on how to build a campaign for social media using the basic foundations of rhetoric techniques and strategies to bring forth an issue that I feel needs to be changed.
I have picked attacking sleep deprivation in the tactical professional landscape and my idea is to help offset these issues by throwing in power naps while in a work window or off time.
Here is a conversation between a classmate and me about the development of this campaign and a little deeper story as to why I choose to attack this issue.
DQ Question:
In "Physical, Cognitive, and Affective: A Three-part Framework for Information Design," Saul Carliner proposes a framework that moves beyond a traditional single audience/single purpose approach to communication (p. 561). Carliner's purpose for the framework is to help communicators develop artifacts that work effectively not just in terms of content, but also usability (p. 570). In your website design, what might some of the physical, cognitive, and affective components be? To what extent do you think these components will help you produce an effective site?
Here is my response to the question
Class,
First off, the way I see Saul Carliner's approach is a specific flow to get information across simply and clearly to affect the user who visits the website and other forms of communication that are used to promote any information that is being shared. A flow is a rhetorical strategy that gives the technical writer or developer a set of processes that allow for the right set-up of information from creation, to introduction, to the main meats and potatoes, to the closing out and finished product. The use of physical, cognitive, and affective reminds me of a similar setup that draws the audience in to take on more information.
"Content + writing style + layout = information design (Carliner, S, 2000)." This is going to be something that I follow when I am using physical to keep information easy to find and follow, not to be congested or overwhelming. With the cognitive frameworks, there will be a clear line between what the issue is and how we as a society can fight and combat sleep deprivation in tactical professionals. Finally, using affective, the main goal will be to motivate the audience to partake in power naps, by using different kinds of research and real-life experiences with short stories from those who are living this lifestyle and how they have found ways to input these power naps into their work and lifestyle, and highlighting how it hasn't caused more stress and has helped relieve the pressure of tiredness and improving overall readiness for their profession.
GB3
References:
Carliner, S. (2000). Physical, cognitive, and affective: A three-part framework for information design. Technical Communication, 47(4), 561-576. https://lopes.idm.oclc.org/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/scholarly-journals/physical-cognitive-affective-three-part-framework/docview/220957738/se-2
Then came the conversation between my classmate and me. I appreciate that she asked great questions to get me to share more.
Classmate:
Thanks for sharing this, GB3.
I enjoyed reading your post. I believe you are correct and on point. It is so important to avoid information that is congestive and overwhelming to audiences. Keeping content design straightforward and informative rather than busy sends a clear message that the focus is on providing relevant and important information. Fewer distractions mean that you can engage viewers interested in learning more about the actual campaign and product, and the “good physical design lets them find information of interest easily” (Carliner, 2000). I also really like the idea of incorporating “real-life experiences” as you stated. This is something I hope to include in my campaign. The testimonies of others can be a much more powerful resource than providing endless and copious amounts of information.
Will you aim to use current and former client experiences? You mentioned in your previous posts the successes of individuals who have included power naps in their routines, when possible. I can see so much value in your proposal. Is this something that you speak regularly about in the various professions? If so, how is it received by others? Do you notice a greater response from particular sectors versus others? I am curious to know if certain professions apply it more than others.
Thank you for your service!
GB3:
Thank you very much for spending time replying to DQ response, and bringing out great points and questions for me to answer. A clear and simple approach is key and needed when trying to get such complex information across. I've seen it during my time in the military, as well as in my current profession. The most effective training program is the one that comes with the simplest approach with its complexity hidden within the overall program not just in one specific week, training block, or specific session. It goes the same for building out a great and attention-grabbing website, this is what I'll be aiming for with my overall campaign.
I believe I will pull from both the case study and reach out and see if those individuals can provide me a video or written testimony whichever they feel is better for them to get their point across. Of course, I would prefer video but baggers can't be picky. I work with all different types of humans who work in a wide range of the tactical professional landscape and they are always coming to me with their issues and battles, never are they the same as someone else who works in the same profession.
For example, the firefighter who is 34 years old with a wife and kids and has 7 years of experience than the kid who is 28 years old, not married, and just got onto the fire truck. Their capacities for the job are different, and their lifestyles are different outside of the time at the firehouse. The cross-section of sharing experiences and skillsets from other professionals is a conversation had more than most would think. I like to say that we are humans first, and professionals second.
Classmate:
Thanks for responding. There is so much truth in your response regarding the different experiences of individuals, regardless of a shared profession. My brothers are all LEO, and their journeys are not the same. As you mentioned, being in different seasons in life makes a difference. I would venture to state that this would be a universally applied factor based on life experiences, current responsibilities, and personalities.
Securing the testimonies of those who have incorporated your power naps technique is a powerful resource to encourage others about the benefits. Did this technique stem from your personal experiences while in the military or is it an area that you were familiar with before enlistment?
GB3:
Good Morning, and hope you are enjoying a nice cup of coffee this morning while doing school work. Thanks again for replying and getting me to open up more about this campaign. I took this from my time while enlisted. As a recon team once we made it to our hide site - a bush where we hid inside to collect enemy activity - we had different positions that needed to be covered. One of those positions was rest and refit, we had a 30-minute rotation while conducting our priorities of work to keep collecting information and providing security at the same time. During that rest and refit, we would throw in 20-minute cat naps after eating and getting our stuff set up for the next rotation. The reason for this tactic is due to the all-night patrol we did to get into our position. So we would take advantage of this small downtime or white space. The word white space is exactly how I approach getting others to take a power nap. We would look at their day and find empty windows and if possible a time to take a power nap if it was during their work window or even when they are off.
Fast forward to a few years after I got out of the military, and I was dealing with PTSD and TBI issues which were impacting my sleep at night and overall quality of life. As the curious George I am, I ran down the rabbit hole in how to heal and fix these most basic issues and sleep was on the list, which lead me to a book called "The Power of Naps and the Myth of 8 Hours of sleep," by Dr. Nick Littlehanes. He went into the different stages of sleep and how our REM sleep worked, he also shared how we lose our ability to access those deeper stages of sleep as we get older and when chronically under sleep deprivation. I then followed the different behavior changes that the book shared and changed how I viewed sleep, and understood it is a state of being, and it can be done any time and anywhere but needs the human needs to have a routine to disable the mind before bed and a routine to enable the after the night of sleep.
I guess I believe that what we heal within ourselves, we can heal within others.
What school has done for me is help me dig a bit deeper and find a purpose in life and why I enjoy doing what I do for a living.
Journal: No Different
My fingers crave the volume of words giving attention to the writer in this heart of mine, very similar to the craving for volume in vertical gain that strengthens these mountain goat legs of mine feeding my heart.
Writing freely is a gift of time, that gives me a sense of being, no longer a search for meaning in why I write. Very similar to why I enjoy spending hours in the mountains running freely engaging with the monk I am at heart.
A new landscape, a blank screen soon to be filled with these words of mine, tends to be no different than the landscape of mountains that my feet will soon kiss, bounding across Pachamama granting me space to be free.
The antidote to my kryptonite that paralyzes every cell in my body, placing a guillotine choke around my heart, making it even more destructive, and no longer creative, morphing the artist into the boogyman inside of me.
Writing is an act of endurance, no different than life, no different than love, no different than running, or any act that we partake in, fueled by every heartbeat.
Micro-Essay: Name this Place
Sweat falls from the cotton green headband that holds my hair back from getting in my eyes, and flying all over the place, showcasing the thinning that won’t stop as the years go on. I now feel like I know, what it is like to be a woman; that’s a joke, I will never try and make a juxtaposition again like that. The sweat still drips from my forehead splashing onto the hardball road that runs inside this beautiful canyon my feet carry me through - euphoric.
Casting walls towering overhead made of rock and clay bursting with browns and beiges, with green vegetation all around. Made up of trees with dark brown trunks to small brushes housing some of the smallest insects scatter everywhere giving depth and texture.
The sound of running water bounces off the canyon walls into my ears from the creek that runs dry during the summer months to a rushing river with heavy rainfalls during the transition between winter to spring.
Becoming an attraction for all kinds of folks who want to take it such beauty of this brown mud-looking water as it makes its way through the canyon floor giving the surrounding area a change in the environment outside of living in SoCal, a true mountain experience.
A place that burns away your thoughts with the whistling and singing birds all around, playing in harmony with the rushing waters that surge over canyon rocks finding the smallest crook and cranny as it rushes towards the ocean.
Short Story : III
Project Orange: Chapter 9 (Scene 1)
Linda sat down with her friends at the coffee table, with a ball of nerves deep inside her stomach from recognizing the man with the scar under his right eye who stared at the coffee shop from across the street. The noise of her friends joking and laughing about a recent date her friend Charlie had, broke her attention from the man across the street.
Charlie shares how this college boy tried forcing himself on her to have sex, and the girls stop laughing, with shocked looks on their faces, each pupil became a black hole of attention.
Linda drifts off into thought not stunned by Charlie’s story, knowing that she lead him on and then left him with blue balls as a strategy to play hard to get. The screen behind Linda’s forehead cast a scene of the phone calls she received on the drive to the coffee shop of the deep scary voice, “You’re NEXT!” out of her head.
Linda, pushes her chair back, and grabs her purse, interrupting Charlie, turning her attention to Linda, “You leaving already?” tucking her red hair behind her shoulders.
Linda turns to her group of friends, “To be honest, I’m just not all there today,” she said, “I want to head home and take a nap before my shift tonight.” She gets up and shimmy’s her way around the table to give her friends a hug, “I’ll talk with you all later.”
Linda, turns and walks out the exit door, noticing the man isn’t across the street anymore, she exhales a sigh of relief, only to scan the area and find him walking towards her from the crosswalk. His grey peppered hair was still pulled back into a ponytail from the other night and her stomach drop as she knew he was the man from the bar.
Linda rushes to get into the truck. She starts fumbling with her keys and drops them between her feet on the street, reaching down to grab her keys, she looks for his footsteps and he is gone. Her heart speeds ups, beating hard against her chest as if she sprinting eight hundred meters for time.
Scrambling to grab her keys, she hits the unlock button on the key fob of her Ford Ranger door, unlocking the truck door, with a violence of action, she pulls open the latch, and yanks open the door, chucking her purse into the passenger seat. She jumps in and scans left and right with eyes searching for the man with the scar. She inserts the key into the ignition and turns the truck on, pressing down on the clutch and brake simultaneously shifting her truck into reverse.
Without looking behind her, she hits the gas pedal, bolting out of her parking spot into two-way traffic; cars behind her slam on the brakes making a long screeching sound. Linda looks back slamming on the brakes, pressing her right foot down on the gas pedal to propel the truck forward. She speeds down the road driving right past him who now is walking north away from the coffee shop. Her heartbeat is now in her throat and ears, sending vibrations across her nerves.
Thanks for reading this small part of a bigger story and project that I am chipping away at.
Journal: Context
In class at the moment, we are diving into understanding that words that we read or hear may not always be in the context of what the writer intended us to understand.
For example, is a hot dog a sandwich?
Right off the bat, every person that you asked would either say it is or it is not. If it is, then it ends, and no further questions would be asked.
If the person responded with a no, then, the question becomes, what is a hotdog? A taco?
My question would be why does it have to be categorized? The context behind the first question is based around this beef stick that goes between similar ingredients that a tortilla or piece of bread supporting the beef sticks and all of its toppings: mustard, relish, ketchup, onions, cheese, chili.
The context of the original question is a “construct” from another construct of “reality” that’s based on the creation of the hotdog.
If the hot dog was never invented then the question of “is a hot dog a sandwich?” wouldn’t be brought to the presences of our minds.
Journal: Lens
To attain true communication a universal language and sound need to be met in order to extract the lens of life that gives us the instruments to play with and the voice to sing in the orchestra of the universal.
My wife mentioned, “you’re writing is no longer so dark,” to me a few weeks back after reading one of my writings, and it kinda took me for a spin landing me here writing about it. Ever since then, here we are slowly dissecting and searching for how true that might be. Or is it an observation of her reality, and it ain’t mine?
Recently, a reading from “The Rhetorical Tradition” sent me down memory lane, the memory ended up being a page out of a book, that had a wooden anchor printed on a light-burned white paper, with a few roses bursting out from the bottom corners of the anchor, a rope wrapped it’s self around from top to bottom leaving space to showcase the beaten brown and black texture of the anchor. Written in block traditional letters above and below, “Everyone who walks into the same room, notices something different than you.” Basically, everyone who is not us looks at life from a completely different lens, than the lens we see through in each moment.
This theory came from a Philosopher named Kenneth Burke, who believes the lens we look through creates a different language even if it sounds like the same language. The terms and words being consumed are not always digested and understood the same for each person in a room. Based on the speaker or writer’s definition of the term or word being delivered can be taken out of context by the audience or individual who may be paying a listening ear.
My wife’s lens of my writing and knowing my upbringing leads to a lens of why she would use the word “dark,” after some searching, she is not wrong, it is logical. The reason for that shift is the change in my internal environment. Each letter, word, sentence, and paragraph, typed and written, every word, sentence, and story spoken have been the garden tools to trim the parts of me that no longer consumed air, and my garden, within me is now full of life. Still with lighting and thunderstorms, but understanding that the rain that comes from those clouds gives me water and the water is to help me grow when the sunlight is in my eyes.
As my heart learns how to navigate, the “dark,” that my wife means, it is no longer the only color in my paint kit, even light needs less exposure and more shadows.
Micro-Essay: Start Up
Boom, Boom, Boom, my creative fist hammers the ground to show me a new potential business idea, and it is completely a brand new area for me. To start a co-working space. Where I live the community of people travel to and from work on one highway to get here, while others work remotely, and locally. The local area within a ten-mile radius has two coffee shops, a library, and Barnes and Noble. The closet co-working space is fifteen miles away. These places are the only few spots to find quiet outside of a home office. Over the years, my brain and heart have been working hard and learning a new craft which is to be more creative. If you have been following since before then, you know the path here turned out to be unexpected to an extent. My human design by nature is to create things, get them started, oversee them, and remove myself where I am not the manager of them anymore. Maybe that is the great thing about writing and storytelling due to their similarities. I create and move forward never being stuck on the same project over and over, again.
Let me conduct a u-turn and get back to this idea of a co-working space. Since moving back to SoCal, my workspace is spent inside coffee shops, Barnes and Noble, a library, and sometimes outside at a park bench or panic table. Yet, there is always something missing, and this is my own space, a space that allows me to disappear mentally and into the astroplanes of creativity giving me the ability to focus more efficiently, tapping into my flow zone. The idea of renting out a spot that had a couple of offices has been orbiting inside me for a few months now, craving a place to create and separate work from home, plus it would give my wife the space to do so as well, instead of inside out bedroom where she seats in a corner and works from all day. This can be limiting for many others with similar setups who can benefit from a new environment, change of scenery, and potentially disconnect from home life completely during those blocks of work.
A big part of my morning is spent inside a coffee shop, at times it can be limiting to a specific amount of activities that are accomplished based on being in a public setting. Podcasts are hard to perform without a quiet and private space, and meetings over zoom, google meetings, and Microsoft teams are at times a ball ache, plus it is hard to drop into a meeting and be fully invested at that moment, plus small business meetings are hard without the right tools and environment. The idea would be to build a community of like-minded individuals who want to be effective professionals and share similar values. The space is small, no more than seven-hundred square feet, and needs a pimp my crib makeover, it needs work and love. The great thing about that process of giving it work and love that it deserves, transforms energy for those who come to use it. As a person whose been working remotely for almost a decade, there are many skills, tips, and tricks that I have learned and kept. These times and experiences give me the confidence to offer classes and insights to be better high-performing individuals in their professional fields.
One thing that has been shown to me since getting into the creative landscape is when an idea comes into you and wants to channel through you, and you choose to ignore it, or it will pick someone else. This has happened to me plenty of times and for good reason but others because I was too afraid. That isn’t the case for this idea, it would be my place to create, work from, plus offer a service to others who might need it as well. In today’s world, this type of business venture has shown to be very successful and unsuccessful. The pattern for those who failed lacks uniqueness and heart, and if you truly know me, uniqueness runs free inside me inside my heart.
Journal: Soft Target
Drenched in sweat from the twenty-three hundred feet of climbing, the sun casts her warmth down onto my skin after a few days of rain throughout the entire west coast. At the top of the summit, the view is clear as can be with sights in all directions, the mountain tops to the north are covered with snow, and to the west, the ocean reflects the clouds and sky canopy from above. My lungs expand and contract at a steady hundred and forty beats per minute catching myself sprinting down the mountain with style, and every step lands with intent, moving me over the mountain nest terrain.
Barreling down the final descent to grab more water to rehydrate before heading back up for my final repeat of the day. After two ascents, an hour and twenty-two minutes passed and the goal was three ascents under the two-hour mark. Each repeat had twelve hundred feet of vertical gain in a mile and a half taking me about twenty-six minutes each so far. With the same descent and mileage back down, that took me about thirteen minutes or so. My mind is in the zone, working hard, fully invested in this training session, and putting everything into for the day.
The first thing that my eyes fixate on is the driver-side tire where a liter of water hung out waiting for me to drink, but what my eyes missed is the pile of broken glass from my driver’s side passenger window. Right away my mind and eyes realize what has happened, my car has been broken into and my personal belongings are gone. Before continuing, my things were covered with a couple of jackets, and with tinted windows, it is hard to see inside my car. A thought ran through my head and that was to run back up the mountain for that last and finally repeat, but my heart was no longer in the session.
At the end of the day, my things being taken didn’t hit me as hard as they did a few hours later. Things can be replaced, but not memories and objects, that hold value, and money can’t buy are what hurt the most. Being violated burned my heart a bit, never in my head did it occur to me that my things would be broken into and stolen. It made me realize that my guard was down, and a soft target for the robbers. That my things being stolen came down to my lack of attention and awareness of my surroundings, lacking the skill of being a hard target at all times. A skillset that runs through my veins to survive environments of potential risk and danger, life and death.
Anyways, the training session ended with six miles, two-three hundred feet of climbing, and left me confident, refreshed, healthy, and with an opportunity to grow more. The break-in and stealing of my things offered me a lesson to never let my guard down and to cherish those small moments with objects that can be easily stolen or taken from you without knowing, much like death. This was a murder of my personal belongs, the grieving moment is coming to end, and the things can all be replaced, but will always hold a special place in helping me become the person that writes these words today.
This was my positive self-talk during my training session yesterday and it had to do with life and not just racing or chasing big goals. Most people train to compete, but lately, my heart is driving me in a different direction.
Compete to train, to love, and to endure.
Micro-Essay: Masochist
The drums beat with an open hand then a closed hand then to another open hand slap - boom, pop, boom…boom, pop, boom. My wings spread like a owl soaring high overlooking my inner heart landscape. The sun shines brighter after the looniness of darkness who ran wild and free. This action of pulling myself into another part of myself makes me a double agent when it comes to moving about the cabin of life. My fingers tap away blending into the natural sounds and smells of the coffee shop - the espresso machine firing off at its max effective rate a Ethiopia bean from the lightness of bitterness in the air.
My heart exhausted from the workload mentally this week. Always driven with passion, and grateful it is not a workload as a prostitute being taken advantage of, on the south side of town on the southwest corner of Zarzamora Street and Brady Courts in San Antonio, Texas. Exhausted by the practice of a craft that requires a lot of time inside my soul, spirit, mind, and heart. To call in our full presence and ask it to be present full time is a lot of work especially learning a new skillset, that leaves me questioning what drives me to sit and write and run? Both very selfish acts, solo adventures, that turn to a scalpel tool. Words turn to wood chips being chipped off by the scalpel onto the page that lacks blankness.
The work of an artist is exhausting and maybe that is why it becomes such a difficult endeavor, looking for the easy way out or the next best tool to complete the task, but the only tool is work. Neurologically at the most foundational level our brains look for the easier action than the harder one. To write four to five thousand words a day is an act of love no different as running for four to five hours back to back preparing for a solo act that gives no trophies or medals, and comes with very little slaps on the butt, pats on the back, and good jobs.
Now, what does comes is the fury of questions of why, a label of selfish, maybe this is a projection of the fight with myself and the page is my projection screen; another fistfight with human nature. These endeavors give love and attention to the masochist deep in my heart, a genetic blessing, one that is no longer a danger to me. Carving out the destructiveness from the eyes, ears, hands, tongue, mind, and heart. These masochistic tendencies are now creative and not a danger to myself or those around me, becoming protection and grace for my soul and spirit to offset the grit that is required to live a life of creation.
Journal: Golden Teacher
First off, let me get this off my chest cause it is applying a lot of pressure. Why the fuck do people feel that because they ask you for a service and pay you for that service and think that they can all of a sudden control you. This never made sense to me whatsoever. When two humans agree to work with each other this becomes a collaborative effort to work towards a goal. If you notice, the word I used between work and each is “with.” This connection word allows for an understanding that with is not for and for is not with. Here is how I view the two words.
With = Collaborate
For = Cooperation
These two words are the opposite of each other much like happy and sad or nice and mean or protect and control or panic and fear, and finally, emotion or logic. They are all different words and they are not synonymous. Let’s dive into a couple of other words and how the two of them are not meant to blend till they are understood separately.
Emotion = Feeling
Logic = Truth
At times these two words tend to be confusing and a ball of entanglement. Especially for someone who does not know how to navigate the feelings of emotions which then blur the firing lines of the machine guns of logic that are all around us. Here are another two words that I’ve learned to separate as well.
Control = Power over someone to influence your will over them morally and physically.
Protect = Best interest at heart to keep safe from harm or injury morally and physically.
The last decade-plus carried a lot of experiences some that when these words were used my mind and heart never could separate and they become mixed like a bad cocktail from a new bartender at Applebee’s. Here is a quick story that hit home for me and taught me a lesson to look at life a bit differently.
A friend of mine invited me to go and sit with him and a few others out in the mountains of Utah. The spot he would take me to was outside of Heber, Utah. On this small patch of land covered in red rock with a lake to the edge of the land, and in the middle of these five acres sat a big tent, a fire ring with logs as chairs direct in front of it. He used this land with his wife for a few years now to do spiritually guided journeys for professional companies in small groups. They both would be considered healers and medicine men and women, shamans of modern times, dress like normal people and you would not even know they carried the power to heal. Both of them have been doing this work for almost twenty years together.
After breaking up the golden teachers in a plastic red solo cup, then filling it up with orange juice, I start to drink and chew, which was not like anything I’d experienced in the past sour and tough. The red solo cup growing up was used to take shots of alcohol either playing beer pong, flip cup, landmines, kings cups, or power hour. Now, here I am sitting in the middle of this land in the summer of twenty-twenty, drinking out of another red solo cup, but instead of drinking the contents inside to numb myself, I am drinking it to learn how to feel. The world works in wonderful and mysterious ways.
A few hours go by, and I’ve laid on a broken wooden dock that overlooks the lake, my supersonic awareness has turned on, and everything around me is vibrating softly, catching the ants crawling to and from their homes. I walked around looking for something for places to be alone, but my buddy would find me, who also took five grams, he floated around to everyone checking in after he settle into the five-dimensional realm of psychedelics. His wife floated around with her feathers burning sage and cedar for anyone who needed to be cleared or wanted to send prays up for those they loved, she played drums and sound bowls, and she sang and played music through a speaker in the tent for anyone, she was sober, she was our sitter, someone who doesn’t take the medicine and keeps a close eye and protects them during this experience.
The wind blows lightly giving relief from the heat that came from the ground from the sun above, sitting under a small tree for shade, my friend walks over and sits next to me. A couple of minutes go by both of us staring at the dark blue-green lake with green and brown vegetation along the banks, maybe seconds go by, who knows, time doesn’t exist. He then turns and asked, “You know the difference between a successful business and those who fail?” Caught off guard at the question, still looking at the lake do nothing but be still, something I was trying to do for myself. I turn my head left and right nodding, “No.” He picks ups some grass, and starts to play it with in between his fingers, then turns and looks at me, “One leads from the heart, and the other leads with the mind.”
He goes into his experience working with all kinds of leaders, and how he was brought in to teach this to companies, bringing everyone together, to work towards one goal, and that comes with leading from the heart, and not the mind. He knew the ones that were driven by the mind and felt the ones who lived with their heart.
Too high in the moment to understand or speak, I sit crossed legged listening as he shares his stories and his growth over the years. He changed directions and dives down the use of psychedelics, “you only need enough to get into the room and once you are in, there is no need to get any higher, sometimes you might need a little more to get in but it will always be less than you think you need.”
The golden teacher was not the mushroom I took, but the person that I spent time with and listened to was the golden teacher. It gave me a lens to acknowledge that my heart is primary and the mind is secondary. Professionals lead with their hearts and rookies are driven by the mind. Life is not about cooperating, it is about collaborating with the world around you.
A recent situation set me down this path, and I am very thankful for it, it helps me stay connected to my heart and always make choices from there not the mind. A few years later, these experiences are still growing inside of me and I am beyond grateful for these types of angels who come into my life to provide light and knowledge. A five-gram golden teacher experience sent me down a path of understanding what it means to lead from the heart and not the mind. The experience was beautiful, as you can tell my memory has not skipped a beat of this time. It’s fascinating the further away from those moments, the deeper the roots dig their way further into my heart’s garden. When it comes to working with someone who pays for your time, don’t lose sight of the fact that it is not a cooperative experience, it is a collaborative experience, meaning they don’t control you or your heart.
Short-Story: Magic Mountain
Note: This is a world building scene.
The grass changes to green as the drip drops of water kiss the earth of the meadows to the west. Don’t forget all the mountain trolls and rock creatures that sleep silently out to the north. To the east raging waters of rivers and oceans ran and surged wild and free. A landscape to the south made of sand and cactus that can kill with hypothermia or heat exhaustion - if not prepared.
Zulu crouched, staring off into the distance taking in his landscape, on top of the highest mountain troll his village protected; at its apex gave sight to all four directions of his world. He picks up a pebble with his rugged fingers and missing fingernails tossing it into the air to watch brother wind hurl it west. He thinks to himself, a sign of heavy rainfall to come. The light blue sky to the west gave sunlight to the meadows preparing for the storm to come. Out to the east lines of clouds ran north and south full of water blending an undertone of dark grey to the clouds that overlayed the light blue sky overhead.
Micro-Essay - In-Between
Aww hello, dear friend, it’s only taken about twenty-four miles and five thousand feet of running, power hiking, and shuffling up and down the mountain trolls of Santee. This friend I speak of sends electoral currents down my hips, hamstrings, quads, knees, calves, ankles, and feet, right down to the end of my toes.
A feeling of pain with every step forward, a feeling of pleasure with another step forward, a change between action and reaction. Every step takes me through transitions of storytelling, the keyboard is the ground, and my feet are the fingers creating art with every step. With a strong, durable, and powerful body housing a warrior’s mind.
Tingling only intensifies as the rate of my heart beats increase, speeding up my footsteps, pulling waste from the muscles of my legs by the heart, and then pushing high amounts of oxygen back to my legs to feed my muscles. A dance on the slack rope of pain and pleasure trying to maintain a sustainable output for much longer than a marathon. For an output that will support; four times the distance of a marathon.
Pain is non-avoidable pushing the limits of life, and making living so beautiful, the opposite of breathing is numbness, getting much closer to death. Running far distances is a very selfish endeavor, no different then trying to be the best human possible: a brother, father, friend, husband, and son or the daughter, mother, sister, or wife plus the inbetweens. Story telling is about change, running far is the same for me. The change comes from the transitions between gesture and retort, life and death, positive and negative, love and hate, light and dark, hot and cold, sunshine and rain clouds, pain and pleasure. Tuning to this friend of mine again, brings new lessons, new experiences, new transitions being a teacher for all areas of life, as a husband, dad, son, brother, friend, and a soul with a spirit who craves to break bad habits of deeper genetic-make up.
Actions and reactions aren’t meant to create double negatives, and in story telling this ends the story from the start, the same with life, look at suicide it is one of the most powerful double negatives in our society today. This action and reaction doesn’t give life a beat, no tempo, no rhyme, no harmony. This heart of mine is learning to recongize the negative and make it a positive, and when the positive turns to a negative, find ways to get back to the positive. Rinse and Repeat, transitioning between the differences of life, enjoying the infinite loop of my story.
Photos by Eric D.