10 — Yard work

(Part 37 of 46 in series, Level 52 countdown)

Solid couple of hours at my favorite local gym, Le Yard. I don’t “love” yard work, but I very much prefer this free gym membership to any other sort of “go and exercise.” Tomorrow: walking (still recovering achilles from sprints)

22 — Tree work

(Part 25 of 46 in series, Level 52 countdown)

This rather large tree (much too heavy for us to lift) had fallen onto the roof of this building. Took two us, and some Quadrupedal on a slippery roof, to get it trimmed, properly felled, and then off the roof without any damage. Tomorrow will be more walking in London.

Gatekeepers

If there’s somewhere I need to be, I need to start walking. It’s insightful, but it begs a few questions. Do I really understand “where” I need to be (that is to say, what does the word “where” really stand for if I’m to use the proverb)? Is there a path from “here” to “there”? And really sticky question: Are there any true obstacles, like gates with gatekeepers, between “here” and “there”?

The world is full of gatekeepers who think they have veto rights. Don’t believe them. If you need them to invest time or resources then they deserve to have a say, otherwise the responsibility remains with you to decide how to proceed and to suffer the consequences or reap the rewards, as the case may be.

~ Andrew Bosworth from, https://boz.com/articles/advice-not-permission

There are many ways (metaphorical and literal) to go over, under, around and through gates and gatekeepers. I’ve always visualized the proverbial gatekeeper as part of a structure surrounding something, keeping me out. But why that orientation?

Recall Douglas Adam’s Hitchhiker’s Guide wherein one character builds an asylum for the world; A “house” with the “interior” stuff (carpet, furniture, lights, curtains, etc) on the outside, exposed to the elements, and with a central space with no roof, faced with the exterior parts of a home. In that center was “outside” the asylum and the entire rest of the world was therefore “inside” the asylum thus constructed.

Why aren’t the gatekeepers seen as denying us access to exit? I don’t want “in” to gain access to some resource or some people. I want “out” to regain my freedom.

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Rambling

I’ve too-recently discovered the value of perambulation. Although, I can walk great distances when I’m going somewhere specific, I find a simple stroll is so much better for my mental flossing.

I once walked the distance covered by the Hobbits, from the Shire to Mt. Doom in Mordor. It was an engaging challenge (and the Hobbits did it much more quickly that I managed—which gave me new found respect for those little people) but it eventually became just a thing I was ticking off. Each time I walked one of a very small few routes that I’d measured, I simply added to the tally. Somehow, having a destination made the walks (those whereupon it occurred to me that I was getting closer to Mordor) not feel like perambulation.

That “life affirming” element lives in the rigor of the act. The days are rigorous if nothing else.

~ Craig Mod from, https://craigmod.com/ridgeline/150/

Maybe my problem is simply my work ethic. I have a crushing work ethic and it’s taken me a great deal of effort to let go of feeling guilty when I’m not working. If I’m on a journey—a walk or a project—if there’s a destination, then my work ethic rears its ugly head and tries to suck the perambulation out of it.

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Shoes on your feet

A degree on your wall means you’re educated as much as shoes on your feet mean you’re walking. It’s a start, but hardly sufficient. […] Just as you can walk plenty well without shoes, you don’t need to step into a classroom to understand the basic, fundamental reality of nature and of our proper role in it. Begin with awareness and reflection. Not just once, but every single second of every single day.

~ Ryan Holiday

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My daily reflection prompts

Such as are your habitual thoughts, such also will be the character of your mind.

~ Marcus Aurelius

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I have a series of prompts which are a combination of quotes and small notes I’ve written for myself. I’ve mentioned this a few times in various posts tagged Reflection. As I collect them—pretty rare these days—I record them on slips in the slipbox. In 2019 I posted Daily Reminders describing what I was doing and listed the 42 prompts. Below you will find the current list of 62.

Over the years I’ve taken the time to type them into OmniFocus, the personal productivity software which I use. I carefully created individual “to-dos” for each one, with each scheduled to repeat at just the right number of days, and lined up their initial due dates. Many years later now, every day, one of them comes up digitally as a reflection prompt. While I recognize everyone of them, there are enough of them that I cannot remember which one will be next.

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The moment

The moment that you feel that, just possibly, you’re walking down the street naked, exposing too much of your heart and your mind and what exists on the inside, showing too much of yourself. That’s the moment you may be starting to get it right.

~ Neil Gaiman

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Amor fati

Don’t expect anything to happen. Just wait. This waiting is a deep acceptance of the moment as such. Nietzsche called it amor fati — unquestioning love of whatever has fated you to be here. You reach a point where you’re just sitting there, asking, “What is this?” — but with no interest in an answer. The longing for an answer compromises the potency of the question. Can you be satisfied to rest in this puzzlement, this perplexity, in a deeply focused and embodied way? Just waiting without any expectations?

~ Stephen Batchelor

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That’s a quote presented by Maria Popova within a much larger post… which you should totally go read. There’s a stillness, and perhaps even tranquility, which I very much hope you’ve experienced. I’ve mastered the walking meditation which is perambulation. But the fully engaged sense of simpy being, when there’s no sense of expectation, is still a surprise when I manage to get far enough out of my own way.

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What actually is the problem

Every obstacle that we normally think of as a problem to be fixed … every “flaw” in ourselves or others that we judge as something to be fixed … what if we can pause, find stillness, and get curious instead of trying to fix?

~ Leo Babauta from, https://zenhabits.net/explore/

Any day that Babauta gets me thinking is a good day. (If that isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.) I’ve gotten pretty durn good at the “pause”, and the “find stillness”, parts. I also believe I have the “wait but why” curiosity bit figured out, since it has always been with me. It’s that “trying to fix” part upon which I’m perpetually stuck. And I get “particularly stuck”— “particularly stuck” aren’t the right words… if I could find the right words or word, I would use it instead. “Ensnared” is close. Or, have you ever gotten caught by a single thorn while out walking or hiking? That one thorn isn’t going to do too much damage if you stop quickly. In an instant, that one thorn becomes the laser focus of all of my attention. I really feel like I should be able to find the right word to fix that sentence.

Well, that’s curious.

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Starting where I am

I love the proverb: If there’s somewhere you need to be, you need to start walking. And the only place where I can start walking? …is right where I am now.

I’ve written a smattering of stuff about my training over the years. Once, in college, (age: 20) I was briefly in shape thanks to several semesters’ of effort put into Taekwondo. But in all that time since, I’ve always done well when someone else tells me what to do. “Do this today at this class. Come back for more.” I’ve also done well following the pack. There was an epoch where I was riding my mountain bike excessively, but I really got in shape when I started meeting up with others and trying to keep-in-sight people much better than me.

Last year, as the sun disappeared in a Pennsylvania grey winter, I began plotting a way to take what I had experienced when a seriously dedicated friend of mine had been planning my training, and turn it into something I could use in a self-directed fashion. I’m not a professional athlete and I don’t want to train like one. And on the other hand, simply “living my life” being active when I find those opportunities arising is not enough. I need some planning. So I’m working on that. Today, I’m just talking about the first piece of my plan: Tracking activity.

I have an older FitBit. It works fine, it’s not fancy-schmancy… but critically, I refuse to pay them monthly for extra bells-n-whistles. So this tracking sheet lets me take some notes about what I did each day, and to simply copy down the totals of time from the 4 zones that that FitBit tracks. Simply having the tracking system encourages me to be more mindful about activity—for example, it’s rather nice today, and I’ve a run in mind for later this afternoon.

The next piece of the puzzle is to begin working in activities that are more strenght-training in nature. A QM session, (there is one there on Tuesday,) some simple free-weight exercises, some bouldering, etc..

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Storytelling

Linda McLachlan is the host and creative spark behind The Arena. Our conversation began with the topic of storytelling. I was interested in learning how she was using storytelling in the context of her podcast. In particular, I wondered if her thoughts on storytelling had changed after applying it to podcasting.

In The Arena, Linda uses a mostly consistent set of questions to power her conversation with her guests. This started as a backbone around which, in each conversation, she could find other questions to ask and build it out. Unexpectedly, the story that comes out each time is quite different.

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Maybe I should walk back?

As autumn settles in where I am, I’ve been looking ahead to winter with longer nights, brisk days, etc.. I also looked back at the shape I’ve been in in years past. I’m not lamenting, “if only I had my youth back.” Rather, just thinking about health, movement, and what would be the minimum effective dosage of some exercise to move me in the direction I want. (That DuckDuckGo link should make you wonder why a medical-sounding phrase is used most relating to exercise not medicine, and strength training in particular.)

Sometimes—by which I mean any time running comes up—I say that running is both the best thing for me, and the form of activity I hate most. Both of which are untrue. What’s actually best for me is zone-2 aerobic exercise and that’s sometimes what I get when I run. It’s best for me, because that is the main driver of base fitness until you get well up into being a competent athlete. But usually, being quite over-weight at the moment, any running drives my heart-rate above the surprisingly low/slow zone-2. The second part about hating it is also untrue. It turns out that one time—the one single day apparently—that I was ever in shape, I enjoyed running. I was walking, the weather was beautiful, and I had an irresistible urge to run, (and so I did.) But, literally, that happened once.

Anyway. It’ll suffice to say: I spent a few weeks recently thinking about going full-on nerd with zone-2 training. To do it right requires planning, scheduling, and—sources vary—between 150 to 180 minutes exercising each week. And warm-up and cool-down time are not included in those weekly times. Honestly, the deal-breaker was I’m seriously pissed at FitBit, (and their watches are useless without a FitBit account,) and I refuse to spend many-hundreds on an Apple watch. Also, my $30 Timex is nicer, for my definition of “nicer.”

My thinking continued, and eventually I thought: I should just walk back from Mordor.

…except this time I’m not going to bother trying to track the actual mileage. Just walk as many days as I can. Listen to some podcasts some of the time. And basically just stroll along thinking, “If this isn’t nice…

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Two people is magical

I often find things scattered about which make little connections appear in my mind. That’s literally what the word composition means when it’s used in the context of writing and literature; writing which composes something new from some number of other things already found. This little missive has been laying in the pile of such things for far too long… and so I’m putting up here to see where it leads us.

Way back in March of 2021 I listened to this podcast episode:

Decoding the Patterns of Human Connection with Marissa King from the Masters of Community podcast, March 22, 2021.

Around 46 minutes in David Spinks asks…

Marissa King: What she found is people consistently underestimated how much their partner was enjoying the conversation. So the short answer to this is you’re actually more likable than you think just the way you are.

David Spinks: That’s really interesting. What are the steps then? …for somebody to become a better conversationalist?

Marissa: Do they just have to become aware of that fact, and stop worrying about it so much? I think that’s part of it. And what I try to do throughout my book is actually to give people the tools of social science to allow them to apply this in their own life. […] So for instance, imagine you’re walking into a cocktail party. What we know, based on human interaction is when I walk in, I often will just see a wall of people. […] But we know that people actually don’t just form walls, that they tend to form small groups or clusters. The question becomes, which cluster do you go to? And people will have all sorts of different ways of choosing this. […] It turns out, that people are in these clusters, because of just the way that humans are built, that we have two eyes, and we have two ears, almost all conversation actually happens in dyads—groups of two. And because of this, if you look for an odd number group, whether it’s 1, 3, 5, 7… When you join that conversation, you’re giving someone else a conversational partner, and so you’re really creating balance. […] oftentimes if you apply this, or you imagine that you are one of these people who feel this aversion, or you feel like I don’t know how to do this, by applying these basic tools, it actually allows you to engage in these types of activities more comfortably.

(I did that transcription by hand and edited it all lightly for clarity.)

That show is all about communities. It’s intended for community builders, managers and moderators. A lot of its content is about health and wellness, as well as the more obvious topics of strategies and tactics for community building.

But this part of this episode really grabbed my attention from my “I record conversations with people” podcast creator point-of-view.

TWO PEOPLE

I’ve long believed that two is the perfect number of people in a podcast. Yes, there are exceptional instances of podcasts with the other numbers of people in them. But there’s magic in two.

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PS: In the above, that small idea about “composition”… that came from some other reading which I unpacked in, Thank you Miss Merrill.

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It’s the journey

Tippet resurfaces questions many have explored before us. “What does it mean to be human? What matters in life? What matters in death? How to be of service to each other and the world?”

~ Shane Parrish from, https://fs.blog/2017/01/krista-tippett-becoming-wise/

Confirmation bias never ceases to amaze me. One minute, I’ve never noticed Tippett wrote a book. The suddenly I’m tripping over references and suggestions for it; Here’s a blog post from 2017 which I’m just reading 4 years later. And over here is a mention from another blogger. And then this podcaster. And so on.

Finding people, their work, their books, etc. feels like wandering through an ancient stand of Redwoods, (which is something I’ve actually done, just to be clear.) This stuff was here long before me, and will be here long after me. Sure, I’ve “hiked”—it’s just walking on a trail—far beyond the usual little loop which most tourists opt to explore. But way farther along, behold! Here is a bench, with a dedication. And even here people have been walking for, I dunno… 100 years now? I don’t even know exactly where this trail goes, but I can see up to the next bend, and the part I’ve already traveled has been purty durn neato. This other person exploring conversation and the human condition has, probably, already done more than I ever will. But that doesn’t take away from what I get from strolling the trail.

Because—as I hope you too have already discovered—it’s the journey that counts.

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Organic

But then I realized a larger, unsettling truth: Much of the food grown in this country isn’t the medicine it should—or used—to be. We’re collectively getting sicker, not healthier. And for others to have the same healing I was privileged to experience; we must start with the soil.

As a man named J.I. Rodale once said:

“Healthy Soil = Healthy Food = Healthy People.”

~ Jeff Tkach from, https://rodaleinstitute.org/blog/our-healing-begins-in-the-soil/

When you’re growing up, you don’t really notice where you are doing it. Your parents, (or legal guardian(s) or perhaps even the State,) chose where you were planted. Bereshith, you’re planted in a very tiny space, then gradually moved to progressively larger spaces with fewer physical boundaries. Until one day you realize there’s basically no one left telling you what to do nor where to do it. If you never really thought about it, and nothing forced you to move, you’re probably still close to that original very tiny space, and probably still close to the progressively larger spaces too.

Then one day—I really do hope—you start to wonder what’s happened before, in the wherever you are now. I’ve a litany of, “woa, that’s cool!” historical bits and pieces found in my surrounds. But that the idea of “organic”—all of it, the word, the principles, everything—originated with one guy, within walking distance of my home, that’s sort of amazing. Rodale, (the family members, and the eponymous companies,) have done a lot—some good, some bad—but I find it unsurprising they did it here, in the Lehigh Valley. There’s a lot this area has going for it.

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Like waves crashing on the beach

It isn’t clear why you’ve been sent back. Maybe it was a cosmic accounting error, or a boon from a playful God. All you know is that you’re here again, walking the earth, having been inexplicably returned to the temporary and mysterious state of Being Alive.

~ David Cain from, https://www.raptitude.com/2021/06/how-to-remember-youre-alive/

But first, pardon me while I get a song stuck in your head… like, all-day stuck.

She could hear the cars roll by
Out on 441
Like waves crashin’ on the beach
And for one desperate moment there
He crept back in her memory
God it’s so painful
Something that’s so close
And still so far out of reach

~ Tom Petty, but you knew that

Tom Petty died in 2017—I hope that wasn’t a spoiler. It seems, based on my quick search, that his last public performance included this as the last song he performed. omg the feels. Stop, go watch that entire 7-minute video. If that doesn’t move you…

There’s a moment late in the video where the jumbo-screen behind them says, “without YOU, there’d be no US” — or something close to that second part, it’s obscured. I think that points to something exceptional about TPatHB. Forty years, and grateful for the experience of that specific night.

Now, reread the pull-quote and then read Cain’s suggested practice.

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When do you stop?

I’m away at a parkour event this weekend, lots of walking and playing and jumping. One session was a discussion of fear, and of consequences. And one particular question for discussion was, “When do you stop?” People raised lots of ideas—good ideas, wise ideas… lots of things I was in agreement about.

But I was also thinking, “Wait. Why do I have to decide that?”

I know I’ve certainly faced decisions about stopping. Work, play, relationships, sports, parkour practices (ask me about the time I climbed across a train station outside of Paris,) … yes, deciding if, when and why to stop is an obvious question.

If I think about two paths—perhaps diverging in the woods, if you like that imagery—an hour’s hike along the path of one choice, I might decide I’m going the wrong way. There’s one of those when-to-stop decisions. But the mistake was an hour before, where the paths diverged.

This business venture: what if I had truly been committed, and had planned clearly the way we’d know when to stop? The question is gone. This relationship: could it be planned, or could two people be so honest, that the question doesn’t appear? This parkour jump, at the end of an exhausting day of training: why am I standing here, right now? If I’d planned better, could I have gotten all the same benefit, but a few minutes before right-now, I’d have moved to something else?

Might it be possible to still have challenge, commitment, growth, love, spontaneity, and humor… without ever having to decide, “should I stop this now?”

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Practicing peace

Walking is a deliberate, repetitive, ritualized motion. It is an exercise in peace.

The Buddhists talk of “walking meditation,” or kinhin, where the movement after a long session of sitting, particularly movement through a beautiful setting, can unlock a different kind of stillness than traditional meditation.

~ Ryan Holiday from, https://ryanholiday.net/benefits-of-walking/

Running is also a deliberate, repetitive, ritualized motion.

But gosh do I hate running. There’s no peace at all. At the very least, I’m glad that I can run (in the shoes I like to wear, for the general health of my feet,) without injury. I can go a good mile—where “good” refers to the length, I’m not cheating calling the distance “a mile”… I emphatically do not mean the running of said mile is A Good Thing. I digress. I can go a good mile and I’m confident that the next day I will not be in agony. I know that running is exceedingly good for me. I sleep better that night, am in a better mood the next morning, and something about that level of effort just turns the volume down on the rest of the world for a good day or even two.

But I know people who swear that running is peaceful. …that running is meditative. …that running is an enjoyable part of their life. …something they even look forward to.

I sure wish I could figure out how to reconcile those two alternate realities.

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The balance of no-balance

There was no sense of trying to balance my desire for doing good and useful things with my desire for comfort and pleasure. I let the good and useful always outrank the pleasurable and comfortable. Operating this way entailed a fair amount of physical discomfort, but it felt far more emotionally comfortable than trying to manage two competing sets of values.

And here’s the interesting part: pleasure and comfort arose constantly anyway. I enjoyed them when they did, with no sense of tradeoff or guilt. However, I didn’t do anything just because it was pleasurable or comfortable, and ironically that made for a much more pleasant and comfortable existence.

~ David Cain from, https://www.raptitude.com/2021/04/the-ancient-art-of-using-time-well/

I have a few reminders that are variations of the idea that I cause all the problems I experience. The more I let that idea seep in, the better things seem to get. It takes energy to balance; balancing priorities, balancing goals, balancing time-frames of planning, balancing rationalization versus guilt, balancing energy levels, balancing responsibilities, balancing gratification versus delay, …

Try this: find something to balance on. Something pretty easy. A 2×4 laid on its wide side, or stood on it’s narrow edge. A curb. A railing if you dare. Get a stopwatch and balance (your toes/heel go along the thing you’re on, not perched like a bird) for 30 minutes. No music, no walking forward or backward, no doing anything else. Shift to the other foot when one side is tired. If you fall off, don’t chide yourself. Simple get back on. Practice being kind to yourself as you do this.

Balancing takes tremendous energy.

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