Breaking...

Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you.

Jean-Paul Sartre

How simple and profound.  How many of us are bound by chains real or figurative?I have lived my life based on heavy handed notions of responsibility learned from my father.Not simply self responsibility,  but a sense of responsibility for anyone and everyone within my reach.
A big brother approach to life,  always taking up the yoke for others and denying myself.  Seems archaic as I ponder it.  But it is what I am.
Last night as I lay in bed, feverish and aching I muttered aloud, and from deep within, "I am tired of being me."
It is not as though I can be or would care to be anyone else,  just a deep down moment of realization.  I have to break the chains and be free or I will drift away in misery.  Being the man I am has nearly destroyed the spirit within.
Such a struggle to lay down arms and surrender to life.  I have been privy to so many breaches of trust that I find myself incapable of complete trust.  I in fact have no faith, although I wish I could,  it is just not there.Chains must break before they break me.

Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you.

Jean-Paul Sartre

What does a Scot wear beneath his kilt? Shoes of course...

Greenville Scottish Games 2013.

A dream come true for me, thanks to the support and encouragement of some beautiful people.  My wife and family for giving me the nod to go forth and find my inner Scot, and several friends new and old who stepped up to give me that push.

Vaunette Coache,  dear friend who called my bluff and provided tickets so I had no excuse,  Craig Harward who put me in contact with Jarred Boan, coach and competitor,  Carson Aull for giving me access to a helluva piece of lumber to train with.  And the Strider family et al for giving me space to tear up dirt and get a feel for the action.

It was a magical weekend with my family from the beauty of the Great Scot Parade to the thrill of stepping onto the field of competition for the Scottish Heavy Games.

I will at some point write a poetic

ode I'm sure, but for now I'm nursing a pulled muscle and remembering a wonderful weekend.

Of course I would be remiss were I not to mention Clan Rep and former music teacher Thom Wood.  Reconnecting with him after 34 years was just a fantastic topper to an amazing weekend.

Love and Peace.  I need an ice bag ;)

I am myopic. No really...

I am myopic.  Nearsighted.  Not figuratively, literally.  And I have and do at times use it as a saving grace.

Lasik and other treatments could cure me,  but why remove what is at times a blessing.  You see when I get enough of the world and seeing and feeling all I do, I take off my glasses.  Shapes and faces change, my relationship to the space I am in is altered.

It's simply a real time break for me.  Removing my specs is like taking a timeout.  I don't see, I don't engage, I simply breath and let my other senses take over.

I would hope the world in knowing that little selfish secret would understand.  Me as a man who is hyper-attentive to all around me needs an escape of sorts.

Sometimes we all just need to tune out.  The harshness, the sameness, the drudgery, the falsehoods that lay before us, simply taken out of focus for a moment or two.  

With a mind to busy to meditate, and a body that has trouble ceasing motion,  simply taking things out of focus is a great blessings.

Disappointment can come in so many dastardly forms.  Be it from misdirected belief or outright ignorance.  Many of us, myself included, will battle back the right and true cynical nature in deference to the "give'em another shot" syndrome.

The bottom line is the certainty of the  axiom,  "a leopard can't change his spots".  If patterns of behavior continue unabated out of the misguided notion that things will change, we set ourselves up for the inevitable fall.

The cessation of disappointment in people and things only comes when we recognize change is not imminent, and our own behavior places us in the role of enabler.

The bottom line,  set yourself up and watch yourself fall.  Accepting routinely the abject disregard for what is important to you in an attempt to "give folks enough rope" ends up hanging you.

I in my own way and time have to start untying the knot and bidding the hangman adieu.

The Turtle

On my Sunday shuffle through the rain and wind, and  the mental tug of war with my inner doubts and missteps, slips, slides and curse words,  I met my latest spirit guide.

Many Native Americans believe in spirit guides from the animal world.  I have a keen sense that such do exist.  Some pick their own, others have them revealed to them.  I have 4 now recognized.  The Dove, The Deer, The Bear, and most recently The Turtle.

As I meandered along that rain slicked trail and battled with my own inner dialogue, I rounded a turn to find a beautiful Eastern Box Turtle, glistening in the rain.  Sidestepping and slipping away from my inner bickering, I wished the little plodder safe journeys.

At that moment I felt a sense of calmness overcome me, despite my soaked to the bone appearance, obvious drop in core temp, and sour demeanor, I found peace.  The turtle's wisdom was imparted to me.

"It does not matter the speed, pace or distance.  The journey is it's own reward, the finish is just the beginning of another adventure"

My last 2 miles were filled with a sense of lightness and warmth.  I got it.  I am the turtle.  This is my journey, at my pace and speed, and it is the reward.  The finish is really the beginning.  The circle has no end.

The sun crept through the clouds as I emerged from the woods.  Tired, wet and content.  I will mark that moment of clarity with a tattoo honoring my new spirit guide.  A turtle will be etched into my right thigh signifying slow but relentless progress in my wonder journey to me.

What Kilts me makes me stronger?

I posted via my Facebook page this morning the announcement of the annual Gallabrae event and Scottish games in Greenville SC.  A celebration of all things Scottish and the contributions made by the Scots, a legacy of everything from flush toilets and fried chicken to Bluegrass music and Penicillin.

In my commentary I mused at how much I would love to compete in the heavy games, but alas, you can't find cabers and heavy hammers for tossing at Walmart.  No sooner than I hit enter than people began volunteering to help me locate equipment etc.,  one dear heart being so bold as buying tickets for my family and placing them at will call (knowing I can't refuse such a gesture, although I tried).

So I have roughly TODAY to come up with a training plan, tonight to visualize primitive approaches to creating the equipment needed to train for such an undertaking, and 3 weeks before I stride onto the field of battle.

Am I afraid?  Hell no!  To borrow from the Clan Wood description of my ancestors:

"Wood - One who was crazy.  By that would have been meant a warrior who became frenzied or wild in battle;  a compliment in an unstable, warlike society, and one to prize."

It is time for me to return to a level of beast mode I've not visited in quite awhile.  Splinters and Spit, Sweat and Grit.

Sunday Rainy Sunday - The Epiphany

At 2 miles in the wind off the lake was making the trees groan and the rain stung my face. The voice of reason said turn back, determination shouted it down. Not today. I will not stop. At mile 3, soaking wet and cold, I met a beautiful turtle along the trail. As I sidestepped him and wished him well on his journey his message rang clear in my addled brain, "It's not the speed, pace or distance. It's the journey".

The finish line is not an end, but the starting point for another adventure. Beautiful gleaming little turtle, thanks for the lesson. Safe journeys.

As I strolled out of the woods, the sun broke through, as though smiling down on me and saying "Now you understand"

Love and Peace....