Day 8.150 Three Keys

Stumbled upon a precious little gem this  morning…

…Expressing his resolve to continue writing, President Ikeda says: "Each of these efforts represents a grand struggle with the limited time I have to live this life. I am determined to pour all of my heart and soul into the task of saying everything necessary for the sake of future generations"
What an incredible commitment.

Additionally, atop the World Tribune front page, literally in the masthead, we find more printed treasure, called SGI President Ikeda's THREE KEYS to dynamically moving ahead in 2015:

1) Change Yourself First.
2) Never Give Up
3) Advance with Joy

Iprobably do not need me to make the juxtaposition from Buddhism to Indoor Cycling, but I will anyhow.

Leading by example, staying true to yourself, expressing the ideas, concepts and principals of the wisest that have gone before us is a noble cause, one requiring all the strength, power, speed, endurance and presence one can bring to this, and every, occasion. The sincere effort of this process creates change in yourself as well as in others. Those in your sphere of influence are attracted to this energy like moth to flame. Think for one moment about those that have transformed themselves. That change, dramatic and glowing, started with one. Did it not? Be that one. Be the change.

At this late junction (the cross-roads) we all recognize the sagacity in the never give up mantra. Never means never. Never ever. This pain and suffering will end. Keep pushing, remain present, recognize and do not try to suppress it. It is your ally and your mentor. Sometimes one can double-up and change one's self by never giving up. There is some thunder and lightening for ya!

The paradox of moving towards the light with a song in heart being a heck of a lot easier than breaking rocks in the hot summer sun, is a profound one. There must be a celebration of sorts in every step we take closer to our goal, be it enlightenment or enterprise. Keep on moving. March to your own bad-ass drummer in the direction of your rock and roll dreams.

The two big obstacles, the huge pot holes in the middle of his golden road are distraction and fear. Those two have taken down more good soldiers and innocent civilians that the gross mega-tonnage of every bomb ever dropped.

I wasn't paying attention, I was distracted and I was afraid is the shadow side of the be the change, never give in and advance with joy paradigm.

The face of the Spin Master is that of the Buddha.

Day 8.149 A Note from Carlos

It started with Castaneda way back in '70 or so.

I was a lost, confused, anxious freshman in college. I was the star of the baseball team, learning the harsh realities of life as an adult - I had just rented an apartment with one of my drinking buddies - working a night job after school and practice while managing the frustrating relationship with my gal friend.

I was also being pulled in the direction of drugs, music and the life hedonistic and irresponsible. Yes, I was morphing from star athlete to care-free hippie.

Life was hard, my dreams were fading and the Vietnam war was suddenly localized. I found a niche, a cause, somewhere to belong. I wanted to rebel, rally and rant. Looking back it seems natural that music would balance all the angst.

I was also taking a couple of Psychology classes and was fascinated by the scope of the subject matter. That doesn't mean I was a good student, I wasn't, but the basic introductional groundwork was being paved before my very feet.

One of our additional reading assignments was the aforementioned Carlos Castaneda's opus The Teachings of Don Juan.

It literally turned what remaining normality I struggled to keep on its ear. That's it - I'm outta here.

At CC's suggestion, I began to write my dreams in a journal. He said that they were powerful allies in the quest for spiritual understanding. He also stated (with conviction) that all this is a facade, that we are literally being duped by society to adhere to a set of rules other than the real. To be mindless consumers instead of beings of light more less. I bought into that with every hook, line and sinker that my emotional sporting goods store could supply.

Toss some Zen, Carl Jung and Jerry Garcia into that cosmic salad, and it's no wonder that hitting 2-2 sliders to the gap slowly went from thrilling to tiresome.

I went from wearing a college uniform with a giant red number on the back to tie-dye T's and faded jeans almost overnight.

Yes, over the night. I got real good at the art of the dream. A skill at which I continue to hone.

And last night was a zinger. I will summarize in the attempt to decipher.

I am walking on a part of the island that I have never explored. Didn't even know it existed. The asphalt had turned to rock, and then brick and finally an amber sand. We were looking for something. Suddenly I see a vacation resort. An oasis in the middle of nothing. One step is a beach and the next a Vegas/Nawlins/Old Europe type of vacation resort community. There are huge, inviting verandas, sprawling retail with luxurious condos overhead, a pool with splashing children and an open airy Mexican restaurant on the corner. The sky is so blue it hurts my eyes and I hear the hiss of salt water.

I ask the person I am walking with what we are looking for.

She smiles and crinkles her face in an 'I'm not sure' manner.

I am not sure either.

We continue to walk through the scene as the sun sets. It is now dark and we are standing in the cobblestoned street looking for a car. A very particular car. It is, or contains, something important. It is the reason we are searching. We find it. It is locked. I B&E. There is a folded piece of paper on the passenger seat. She is straining to see it as I unfold. This is it. Eureka!

Every cell in my body is crackling with electricity. After all this time - an answer. My partner is shaking with anticipation, leaning close to me. This is a beautiful moment.

Playing into the drama of the situation I S-L-O-W-L-Y unfold the paper.

And wake up to the marimba of my iPhone alarm.

Day 8.148 One Contagious Commodity

I would like to talk about motivation. Again. The road as proxy.

This is so important that I will risk tediousness and repetition in the attempt to further explore. And please remember folks that this is my way of thinking through. If I can get these fleeting thoughts isolated long enough, on paper, in verse, as prose or simply as incoherent verbal doodles, maybe we can stumble a little closer to the source. I want to try again to get it right.

In the lab, they use a tasty term called emotional contagion to better describe what we have long known to be true. Namely, that there is power in the pack. The group, team, class, unit or assembly's sum is much greater than its parts.

But it is the parts that matter.

Your part.

You, should you decide to play, have a huge responsibility. Remember the saying that a chain is only as strong as its weakest link? This is that. YOU do not want to be that link. That might be motivation enough, but is is motivation by fear - as not wanting to do or be something is worse, much worse, than wanting to be it or do it. One is positive and the other anxiety filled double negative.

Example: Do you exercise because you do not want to get fat? Or do you compete as a celebration of the human spirit?

There is no doubt that we are motivated by others doing exactly the same thing we are doing, but better. Or faster. Or more graceful. Or longer. Or more commercially profitable. Or with more joy.  It makes me a better athlete just watching those who have accepted the awesome responsibility of achieving championship status.

I am motivated and humbled at the same time. Something stirs inside compelling me to seek similar. I want to go faster, climb stronger, swim more fishlike and run smoother simply as a result of being a teammate to those who embody these traits.

These lessons are caught - not taught. We learn by doing. We are motivated by those whose enthusiasm and élan are contagious. When played out this phenomena is more powerful than, well, a steam locomotive firing on all cylinders, to massively mix the metaphor.

It is like laughter. It is like returning a warm smile. It is team effort. I do not want to let the team down by my lack of luster. I must inspire and motivate my team, my class, my unit to achievement and success. I will ask the weakest link to keep the faith and carry on. Never give up. I got, we got, your back. Give me 100% effort and I won't cry if defeat is the outcome. Because that effort, presence and attitude is a higher, greater, sweeter victory than any final score could ever signify.

The emotional contagion means leading by example. Putting your game face on display in a focused and relaxed manner.

In other arenas it is knows as grace under fire.

One contagious commodity.

Day 8.147 The Mountain Canshouldwill

Cannot.

Should not.

Will not.

The difference between these knots are as obvious as those between a slipknot and a double bowline.

I heard my 12 year old nephew use the first one several times yesterday. Once while we were playing catch with the football and he was having a problem tossing a decent spiral. He said he cannot throw. I said yes you can and here is how. Now all we need to do is practice.

I heard my cardiologist tell me yesterday that I probably should not be overly concerned about my chest pains, dizziness or syncope. OK, thanks I appreciate that, but tell me please, what defines an overload of concern, sir?

I heard a person insist yesterday that their use of alcohol was not a problem, despite repeated instances of obvious irrational behavior, several of which led to suffering, pain, embarrassment and injury.

Yes, you can.
Yes, you should.
Yes, you will.

The reason you cannot is fear.
The reason I should not is because of accountability and recourse.
The reason she will not is denial.

Let us saddle up to the reality of riding this horse on this range. Up the snowy, cold, steep, windy, demanding and dangerous hill.  The mountain Canshouldwill.

Our mantra for the day:

Fear not joven, be free my soul, breathe the truth.

Please take ownership of this. It is yours. Your rodeo, your bull and your mountain to climb.

You Can.
You Should.
You Will.

Day 8.146 Most Important

The most important thing is the thing you are doing right now.

We discussed this rather esoteric concept this morning during a corybantic, but composed, set of hill repeats.

Consider that commitment you made merely to show up. You have purpose.

Purpose with meaning.

You decide to go - or not to go.

And then you are here.

That choice means, assuming that you are serious, that there is some value in the activity. We eagerly anticipate going out to dinner, seeing a movie, traveling to exotic, tropical ports-of-call. We all want to fall in love, be happy, own a nice home, drive a shiny new car and be proud of exemplary, obedient children.

But what about everything else? How about the mundane, the challenging, the tedious? How do we deal with the mind's relentless craving for 'other'. You know the feeling - the work is outside our zones of comfort; Too much effort required or too little excitement. We simply cannot sustain the focused awareness necessary to label the effort, 'our best'.

The mind offers an all-expenses paid vacation to the romantic destination of your choice. The Maui loop ride would be nice today. Before you realize what is happening you are mentally packing your bags, willing to face the humiliation of standing in line to remove your shoes and belt and then sit in a cruel and unusual position of solitary confinement for five hours, all because you can't handle the present moment. Aloha!

You have defeated yourself, gone one-on-one and lost as the wicked and wily ego claims another victory.

IF (full caps intentional) you make a commitment -  honor it by bringing your full attention to the dance.

IF (ibid) you are here and the time is now (as it always is) isn't there a degree of importance attached?

How much importance?

When we are doing hill repeats at 0530…

…they are the most important thing in the world.

THE MOST IMPORTANT.

Day 8.145 Out of Jokes

I am stuck in transition. Between a rock and hard-rock. Locked-down by the knowing and the doing. I have told all my good jokes. It is ad-lib from here on out. Curtains part, lights illuminate the small stage, a snare drum rolls. Life is a farce and comedy is hard.

Cognizant of the importance of the decision I play the angles, trying to game the system. Usually that means finding a way to lessen the financial impact. NOT because it is the only way it will happen, but because I am sick and tired of paying for mediocrity.

Let us agree that this is truth. We are paying more for less. No joke.

Customer Service is a lost art in company with rotary telephones, chivalry and politeness. I wish it was otherwise. I long for the good old days of air travel.  Man we had it good. It was easy. Now it is hard as a rock, painfully humiliating, demeaning, stale as a joke you've heard a hundred times. Remember the days when we used to actually applaud upon touchdown?

I payed $17 for a veggie burger and $6.75 for a beer the other day. I was trapped in the only lounge at a tiny (by comparison) airport in Southern Oregon. Moments earlier I managed the ignominy (not my strong suite) of having eleven TSA agents fight over what item in my carry-on back pack represented the greatest potential for terrorist activity, my camera, suction mount, GPS devices or USB extension cable.

What is this?

That is an external media storage device sir.

What is it used for?

To store media sir, I reply trying to sound like anything but a smart-ass.

Please turn it on.

It must be connected to my computer to function sir, it has no power on its own.

OK. What about that thing?

Additional power supply sir.

What does IT do?

It connects to my camera to ensure power for seamless filming.

Can you turn it on?

Yes. Here. (Blue LED indicator lights show battery at 75% of capacity).

OK. This?

Adjustable camera mount extension. Gets the height, angle, X and Y axis where i want them.

Can you turn it on?

It is not a powered device sir, completely manual.

By this time there are four other agents watching the routine. There are no other passengers in the screening area. No wonder fares are astronomical with airlines making bottom line off the chart profits. The deck is stacked against us. I see a sign announcing that this is not a joking matter and to do so aloud is a criminal offense. I stifle a response to this absurdity, accepting the hypocrisy of our advanced civilization by chomping down on my lower lip.

OK, step through here please. With no Miranda Rights?, I chuckle in mute hilarity, choking a chortle.

I would like to but I have a small issue that needs addressing, Agent Williams.

AN ISSUE OF WHAT TYPE? Time stops, frozen with tension. Every agent gawks to see what the 'issue' is, cell phones, radios, walkie-talkies at the ready.

I have a pacemaker.

Not a problem. Over here.

Two agents snap to attention preparing the non-invasive Xray booth.

Not a problem?

None.

Easy for you to say, I say, jokingly.

Right, sorry.

I have danced through the mine-field. Laughing at the irony that prohibits it.

Suddenly I feel like a comedian who must pay a cover charge to watch himself preform. 

And I am out of jokes.

Day 8.144 Out There

Somebody said, and not too long ago:

"If travel was free, I would never be home."

The extent to which I agree cannot be understated.

The humiliating degree to which 'they' have us by the balls is appalling.

I will give you examples, as if your need more, tomorrow.

Tonight I need to reclaim some of the rest and recovery lost from the last two days on the road.

They were great days, I had a blast. I love being 'out there'.

If it was free I would still be there.