Tag: attitude

New Balance

Revelation!

I always notice myself and the things happening to my body – mind – spirit – energy – writing – relationships, and think, aha, revelation! They’re revelations to me but might be nothing to others. Others noticed their revelation long ago and shrugged it away, or quietly and simply absorbed it without scrawling to the world, revelation! But I always think, I’m onto something, and want to share it, because I am.

Revelations happen a lot when I’m on the upper end of my spectrum, and right now, all aspects seem to be approaching zenith, meaning, I’m happy, I’m noticing a lot and have huge energy reserves, and I have lots of patience, and voluminous, dramatic dreams. Really.

Today’s revelation came during calf dips. I liked doing these up and down movements while balancing on the edge of a stair and not using my hands to hold myself up. Oddly (perhaps others have insights about this and will say, no, not oddly), but oddly for me, I’m better at this if I used the twenty pound weights while doing this.

Anyway, while doing these today, I realized as I rose and dropped and adjusted my balance, that various small balance centers were in play and being felt. I loved learning that. It synchronized with a greater observation about how I set myself up to fail. I set myself up to fail by creating huge expectations and hopes for success. Then, naturally, I don’t achieve what I want as fast as I want it. But, aha – revelation – using small and separate adjustments made the exercise work more smoothly. Thus, I should set smaller goals, employ small adjustments and make small changes.

I did learn that a long time ago when editing and revising. Big changes are very dangerous and can spin wildly out of control. I use a lot of caution now while editing and revising, tasking myself to read the entire document and see it as a whole before attempting large changes. Then I don my critical reader hat and ask, if I was critiquing this for another writer, exactly how would I state my problems with that work?

Naturally, there’s a bifurcation of thought in me about making small changes. My desire for the big reach stretches along on my emotional and physical spectrums. Emotionally, that doesn’t surprise me. Success appeals to my emotional side. Failure is felt emotionally. Physically, physical conditioning has always been structured in me to try harder, go further, do more and stretch yourself, to achieve the best gains.

Over on the intellectual and spiritual sides, I’m much more measured, and very accepting of small steps and minute adjustments. While the emotional and physical spectrums do not accept any backward steps well, the spiritual and intellectual sides will counsel, even a backward step is a learning opportunity. It’s like my emotional/physical sides are petulant toddlers, and my spiritual side is a zen master, while the intellectual aspect is a patient mentor.

It’s great when they all work together. Today, they do, so I observe, recall and apply once again a simple lesson, take small steps to achieve balance, reach your goals, and realize your dreams, Michael. Fortunately, the writer in me seems able to embrace and be on all four spectrums somewhat evenly.

Time to write like crazy, one more time.

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MG6

 

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My new version, Michael Gen 6, has been released to exciting reviews. Lighter, leaner, more mellow, here are some product highlights.

1. Computer issues plagued Michael G5, triggering blood pressure increases and often fracturing his calm. With the computers temporarily shelved, MG6 is a more mellow, tolerant and jovial person.

2. Carrying an iPad mini 4 and 100 sheet composition book and pen is much easier than trucking the computer in the bag with whatever support gear and accessories were packed. Losing them means MG6 weighs 15 pounds less than MG5. The lighter load has unexpected collaterals ramification. Packing less weight has resulted in MG6 having greater energy over MG5. The enhanced energy levels are being proven with increased optimism, exercise and activity levels.

3. With less frustration and irritation exhausting him, MG6 sleeps better and awakens with a greater life zest. MG6 has even planned a coast vacation.

4. Writing in a notebook with a pen has bounced MG6 to a higher creative cycle. More primitive and elemental, rawer, torrents of words pour out, although there is a shortcoming with this output, as it still requires typing.

5. As MG6 is less stressed than the previous version, less comfort food and drink are consumed. Money is saved and body weight has been reduced.

Some things didn’t change with MG6. He still answers the cats’ purrs, cries, meows, paw swipes, head butts and rub bys, doing whatever they order, from feeding to treats to catnip to extended petting sessions as they roll around, and offering a lap for napping when demanded.

MG6 still obtains most calories from organic food, having a wonderful grilled vegetable quesadilla with guac, salsa, and sour cream for dinner last night, with additional input coming via beer, in this case, a shandy of lemonade and Ashland Amber.

And though it’s a notebook, and the result isn’t tidy, MG6 still drinks quad shot mochas and writes like crazy.

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Just More

I figure I should rename this blog to Just More BS, because it’s all just about me, baby.

Three days I’ve not written. I feel like those cat satires, whereby felines record how their captors taunt them while keeping them imprisoned. Oh, such a miserable life.

Life is not at all mis for me now. I’m rising, again, but will set again. I’m a creature of cycles and spectrums. But while I’m up —

I recognized stages today, of coping with not having my computer, and not being able to write like crazy each day, and of being limited to writing on the butcher roll paper of my mind. I complained (fuck!) and whined (why me, universe, didn’t you always tell me I’m the chosen), and then accepted (okay, I can do this, I will do this). (Clarification, I’m creating blog posts on the iPad mini 4. I’ve managed to miniaturize my hands so I don’t feel like the Jolly Green typing on a Selectric but I worry about enduring the rest of my Earthly existence with tiny hands. Yes, I’m a handist.)

Yesterday afternoon, tho’, whilst grilling veggies, I speculated, can I go back to writing in a paper notebook? Challenges and obstacles rose through the mists of hope. My writing is organic. I’m like a kid jumping through and around puddles of scenes, plot setting, and characters. I wouldn’t be able to do this, and I didn’t print out the works in progress. Still, I convinced myself I can write some scenes and insert, edit and polish them after the Computer Returns.

Pondering this, I grew hopeful. This morning, I considered, maybe I can just write a short story, hey, hey?

Sure. Whatever. Deciding I needed to write and was going to write, I found an almost blank notebook. The few written pages were perused. Ah, a draft of a performance report, I recognized. They were part of the structure of a past existence and have been banished to the admin vortex where they belong. Tear them out!

Now the notebook is blank and ready. Short story or novel, and which novel, Long Summer (sequel to Returnee) or Personal Lessons with Savanna (third book in the mystery series)?

I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m in my coffee shop office. I have my quad shot mocha and a pen at hand. Because, when I summarize what I want, what I do, and who I am, I want to write, and I write. To not write is to give up. Why should I assume this will not work out? Perhaps this change will inspire a new spring of creativity. Maybe this is a reboot, Michael G6.

Yeah, that’s all words, justification, rationalization, clarification. I just want to write like crazy. Time to do it, at least one more time.

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Something Had Hold of Me

Affirmations, meditations,

nothing seemed to work

sleeping, eating, drinking,

nothing seemed to work

trying, hoping, begging,

nothing seemed to work

something had hold of me

something let me go

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Turbulence

Bounced around the spectrum yesterday and today, pissed off at the world, frustrated, tired. Buckle up, I’m in for a bumpy ride.

I’m not certain which spectrum I’m addressing. The spectrum of happiness, satisfaction, or self-actualization. This could just be a broader spectrum, the ‘life’ spectrum.

Reading others’ blogs and posts, I see many battling similar conditions and why not? How many billions of humans live on Earth right now?

The best way to describe it is that I feel out of sync, with rough energy that escapes my control. Feeling this, coping with it, I wonder about cause and effect. Maybe it’s boredom, or weariness with routines of food, people, drink, habits. Is it my diet, I ask, thinking through it, searching for the food or drink that may have poisoned my spirit, or perhaps I’m experiencing a nutritional deficit or chemical imbalance. Is it hormones from my time of life, month or year? Maybe the world is just too much with me of late, and I’m suffering news fatigue, or digital fatigue. Would I be this way, I query myself, were I richer or poorer? If I was richer, could I escape myself by booking travel to a island somewhere, or someplace ‘fun’, or use shopping therapy? If I was poorer, would more critical concerns distract me?

I don’t know. I can play those games and search for answers but this is an emotional condition, not logical, not a product of intelligent thinking, but a product of emotions. What triggers these emotional switches, and why is it so much deeper now? I ponder the birthday aspect, coming up on one, and whether the stars, moons and planets – or other energies we don’t know – afflict me, conjuring up Twilight Zone and Outer Limit scenes of aliens, ghosts or Gods toying with me. It’s all in bright, fuzzy black and white.

Meditation and affirmations help. Don’t know how dark I’d be without them. I’ll go walking. Walking, with its combination of distracting my thinking and emotions, but also stimulating me with the chemicals the physical activity produces, will help. It will give me time to be by myself, and that may just be the issue here.

I want to be alone.

For a while.

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Promises

I awoke after a night of wild dreams, and dined on them as I rubbed the sleep away. Nothing nourishing was gleaned from the noshing.

Cats fed (first thing, other than some body functions – it’s in the cats’ contracts), meditation complete, I enjoy hot coffee and cool air with warm sunshine under a velvet blue egg sky. Energies are up, spirits are up.

They fertilize plans. Early morning yard work, writing (well, editing….), of course, some light housework…who knows what else?

This day is making some fine promises.

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Conversations with Self

Perfect, I think, 71 degrees F in the house, perfect, I think, with a cool breeze laden with soft tinctures of damp grasses sweep in through the office window, an unexpected delivery. Outside, the sun is flexing its blaze, awing the blue sky. Outside promises heat, the kind dreamed of during frigid winters.

My perfection doesn’t align with my wife’s idea of perfection. When 78 degrees inflamed the office and the windows were closed against the 92 degree heat outside, my wife declared her pleasure with the heat. “I’d rather be too hot than too cold.”

Yes, all of it is a spectrum, I speak to myself. Nothing seems absolute. Everything in our existence seems to be on a spectrum. I toy with the spectrum of spectrums that merge and blend into a spectrum of reality and existence.

Is truth somewhere on a spectrum? No, but our understanding of truth exists on a spectrum, the understanding, interpretation and application of truth and facts through spectrums.

Spectrums and cycles. I travel cycles of darkness and light, balancing along spectrums of happiness. Spectrums of determination and desire. Spectrums of energy and willpower. Nothing is black and white for me and my spectrums. Emotions, dream, urges and frustrations pedaling with frenzy, I cycle through my spectrums.

I’m going through a cycle of thinking that propels me toward optimism, joy and happiness on my spectrum. Are joy and happiness the same, I question, and cast a net to define the differences. Imagination intrudes. Story concepts take seed and bloom. I want to be done with what I’m writing so I can write more, explore these other ideas, discover these characters and their situations, lay out their story. I want to finish painting the guest room and the bathrooms’ trim so I can work on the yard, cut the grass, pull weeds, trim plants and bushes. I want to walk a long distance in the hot sun and free the sweat from my body. I want to load up junk, and clean the closets and drawers, and take items to the Goodwill, and I want to sit somewhere by an ocean’s side, smelling its breeze, hearing those waves, sipping a beer, or wine, alone or with others.

Life is good, in this spectrum’s neighborhood. And then, I tell myself, go edit. Go proofread. Go write. And I close the window, because the breeze is gone.

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