This year I will ...

I think we all have specific events or time periods in our lives where we can point and say “that is where things changed for me”. Maybe they were good events or maybe not so good events. Maybe they were times that inconspicously set us on the paths we followed, and only in retrospects can we identify them. Maybe we knew the instant it happened, like lightning striking, that this was a pivitol, game-changing moment in out lives.

Lots of times for me those points are not arrived at by conscious choice. They usually bloom from something that has happened to me, or develop over long periods of time so that the precise moment of transition is impossible to pin down. In this way I often feel more like I am stumbling through life than anything else. While watching The Weight of the Nation series I kept wondering how people who were morbidly obese and struggled with weight issues got to where they are. Not the obvious routes of over-eating and eating the wrong foods and not exercising, but more the bellwether events, the moment each person realized where they were with their weight/health issues and if it could be tracked back to one single event or thought.

For myself I can trace down some of those life-changing points. Be it a divorce, the death of a loved one, that one book by Hemingway, that one article on in the paper, that one conversation with a friend, some obscure insult, a sudden realization or flash of insight… I very, very rarely recognize them at the moment of inception. Usually I have to wake up one day and ask myself why my life, my love, my work, my health, my relationships, my emotions are the way they are. Then, looking back over a long road, I can say “Ahh, that was the moment (day, conversation, choice, etc.) that changed things.”

Wouldn’t it be great if I could choose those moments ahead of time? If I could have conscious choice over the direction I want to live my life and then follow the courses that bring me there just as if some extraneous force of circumstance were working on me? Wouldn’t it be great if I could pick the date that I could look back on and say “Yes, this was when everything changed.”

I mean, jeez… If you have a destination in mind and you draw a map and you follow the map you should arrive at your destination, yes? So why am I always so far off course? Or more to the point, why am I always on the same road I don’t want to be on? If I look back, I can frequently find the moment when things started to change, but usually this sort of forensic examination comes too late. I’m no longer dealing with the changes, but rather the aftermath. It’s when I stop the march and say “Boys, I think we are lost” and there is the chorus of groans and gripes and someone says “When did you figure out we were lost?” and I say “When nothing looked the way it was supposed to.”

I want to pick a date that I can look back to and say “On this date, in this place… that is when I made things change.” I think I am going to make that date today. I have a rare opportunity this Memorial Day weekend where I have the time to not only make this the date, but to make the plan as well. No work, no family, no wife, no friends, no pressing engagements or requirements. This can be the date from which everything progresses.

No, I cannot predict every upcoming event that may have its own influences upon me. No, I cannot expect to change everything overnight. But I want to, at least once a week, take time to look back to this date and recognized that some goals and plans and thoughts and desires were developed here, and to decide if I am still on a course to achieve them. No longer: “It’s been ages since I talked to my family,” or “I’ve been so busy, I completely forgot to get tickets for that thing she likes”, or “Wow, I’ve been at this job a year? I never planned to be here for a year.” Now I will be able to say “It’s been a week since we had a date-night, gotta do something about that, let’s make it this Friday,” or “It’s been a week since I wrote a dinner menu. Let me take 15 minutes right now to knock something out,” or “5 lbs! 5 lbs my ass! Back away from the double portions of fried rice and take a trot around the neighborhood tonight.”

The weekly review plan could also serve to reinspire me and keep me on course. “Why am I not buying this thing I want? Oh, yeah, I decided on this date that I wanted to have money for our vacation,” or “Why am I going to work at 5am, is it just to get a check and pay the bills? No, it is to position myself to move to another job I will like better.”

This is probably all very simple to everyone else. In fact it is not news to me, having planned and failed in a seemingly endless cycle, gaining ground more by floundering luck than anything else. I just want that one irresolute and established starting point where I can say “What I am doing today, what I am today, where I am headed today, is because of this one choice I made on this date.”

Today I had occasion to go into a part of the garage I haven’t been to in a while. There were cobwebs and dust and litter in the corner, evidence of its lack of use. Why do I have areas of my home, my work, my life, my heart, that are dusty and strewn with cobwebs? It is a combination of my own listlessness and distraction. My inability to properly focus on some tasks leaves them to gather rust. My habit for procrastination causes my progress on goals and projects to lose steam and peeter out. There is a whole bunch of stuff in my life, physical and spiritual, that is just junk lying around and collecting dust. So much stuff I often feel paralyzed and unable to accomplish anything lasting.

There are things that I need to shake off, to lose. And things I need to go after and find. I believe it is important to not only know what you are going after, but know what is holding you back.

This year I am going to lose…

• those stupid, stubborn, last few pounds between me and my optimum weight.

• my fear. The fear that holds me back and prevents me from taking chances. The fear that consequences will outweigh rewards. The fear that I will achieve what I want. The fear of what others will think of me.

• my excuses. I’m going to think of ways to make the things I want happen, not excuses why they can’t happen. I’m not going to offer a series of explainations why things don’t get done, I’m going to state the simple fact that I failed to do it. Clearly I must have had other priorities.

• my guilt and remorse. Linked to the above paragraph, I often suffer much self-recrimination for my own mistakes. I have noticed that it rarely leads me to a place where I don’t repeat the mistakes. That doesn’t mean I want to blunder down the same course, never learning from errors of judgement and action. But there no point in hanging myself on a cross for every misstep. There are things I want, targets of life and spirit I desire, and they are some things society at large frowns on or discourages. But I have long believed that such societal judgements are designed to press everyone down and keep them in line. I don’t want to be “in line”, I want to be on the frontier.

• my materialism. I’ve got way too much stuff. That’s saying something since with every divorce and relocation I’ve started over with practically nothing. Maybe this is the reason that I have this sentimental attatchment to physical items. But there is now a need to be practical. I really have to review my physical environment and make some purges. I’m quite sure this will take most of the year. In truth I have to ask myself about each and every item I “possess”: “Do I really need this? What value does this item bring to my life?”

• my spiritual apathy. This is a battle I have fought for years. I know I have a spiritual side, but I have allowed it to wither. I feel severed at times from people and from the Universe at large. Here, I have no idea where my path will take me. But it is a journey I know I have to take.

• those people in my life who don’t help me. There are no trophies for involving yourself with people who don’t lift you up, but rather, drag you down. Just like a society that doesn’t want you to step out of line, there are people who don’t want you to grow or move on or elevate yourself. Ironically it is the people who are considered outside the circle of conventionality who are the ones that are best for you to be around. As long as they are positive, progressive people. Right now I have too many negative, fearful, critical and suppressing people in my life. Be it work, friends or family, I have people deeply invested in remaining in the hole they are in. And they are lonely in that hole. They want to pull as many people as possible in with them. They do this through guilt and fear and gossip and complaining and negativity. Some of these people are just people I deal with in my daily routine. So I need new routines. Some of these people I love or am very fond of. But if they won’t come forward with me then they have to be left behind. And I cannot drag them, they must row their own oars. And let’s not forget, a part of me is one of the people I need to leave behind.

That is at least a year’s worth of stuff to lose.

“Nosce te ipsum…”

“Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face.” ― Mike Tyson

One of the disadvantages of having some degree of self awareness is the realization that I can be hopelessly impulsive and oft-times easily distracted. It’s not at all uncommon for me to start off with the best of plans and intentions and become inescapably mired in the swamps of drama and irrelevance. Maybe I commiserate too easily, maybe I am too short-sighted. It has always been like this, with my careers, with friendships, with women, with life goals; I start out with one set of intentions, one patch of solid ground to stand on, and slowly give way, or fly off plan like a cat chasing a flashlight beam. Then one day I stop and look around at the forest of thorns I’ve blundered into and (once again) ask myself: “How the fuck did I get here?” I stumble around, hacking my way in circles, until I’m either fired or friendless or divorced or heartbroken or depressed. Then I square off, make a new plan and fresh intentions and find a new square to start from. Over and over and over.

So far this year is going pretty well: I solved the problem of being unemployed, our financial goals are being met, my marriage is more stable and we are like-minded in our goals and ambitions, I’m on course to surround myself with people who are more positive and helpful and distance myself from those who are not, my health is improving, my mental status is improving, and several of my goals for the year are on their way to being manifested.

It is about this point in our story that the front tire blows out and I go careening off the cliff’s edge, doing that thing where you throw your arms up over your face and scream allllllll the way down.

Not this year… not this time.

I think about those captains who set off from the mainlands in wooden ships under the power of the wind, their minds set on distant shores they could not see, only envision. Despite storms or calms or lack of fresh water or pirates or days of monotony or assualts by krakens or the lure of unexpected islands, they remained on course toward their destination. I think of generals who oversee battles and put men into harm’s way, in directions they would not go into on their own, because doing it means winning the battle. I think of people running for public office who map out a strategy and execute a plan, who remain fixed on the prize and don’t get drawn down into petty squables and political back-biting. They get others to roll in the mud for them, but they remain above the fray, often stepping on the heads of those thrashing in the heat of action on their way to success. And I think of prized atheletes who imagine the rewards of victory, not the price. They fix their minds on the end result, and push their bodies and spirits towards that goal. They eschew pizza and beer and late nights and girl-flesh and dope and sleeping late and choose instead sweat and rigor and pain and privation and discipline and performance. These are people who don’t get lost in the moment, who don’t stumble down unexpected paths, who don’t wander off course because of fear or boredom or uncertainty or weakness of will. These are people who know what they are doing. They have the end in mind and although their tacts and strategies may change, their goals do not. They are the seducers, not the seduced. They are the doers, not the wishers. They are the achievers, not the wanna-bes.

I’m not going to go off course this year. I am not going to blunder around in a big circle to end up torn and tattered and back where I started. I need that vision of my goals in the forefront of my mind at all times, unclouded by ego or anger or insult of self-effacement or praise or distraction. I have to know what I am doing and why every single day. I have to take the long view and accept that it is the ends, and not the means, that matter. I have to give up fleeting rewards in favor of lasting results. I have to remember that I don’t have to prove my prowess to anyone, and that everything I do should be in alignment with my larger goals. I can’t just wait for the next move, I have to shape the next move; my own, and that of others.

This requires a lot of discipline and reinforcement on my part. Can’t say with certainty that I am up to it. Certainly up until now I haven’t been up to it. I’m the guy who stopped to smell the roses and then laid down in the flower bed. This will be hard for me. I always go into these things with the best laid plans and then the first upper-cut to the jaw or jab to the ribs puts me on my ass and I spend the rest of the fight fending off blows. I know this about myself. I have to make sure I don’t get lost in the moment… ever. While that doesn’t mean not noticing or taking advantage of opportunities as they come up, it does mean not chasing every distraction like a sailor on shore-leave.

I had a “discussion” (more of an argument) last night with my former chef about how I was dealing with my new work responsibilities, especially how much work I was taking on myself. I left the conversation with the seething conviction that he was trying to manipulate me into failing, so as not to make his own failures at the company look so bad. “Don’t do this… don’t do that” was his constant advice. In my own brain I kept saying: “He must think I’m an idiot. Well, I’m not an idiot. I know what I’m doing.” And I do, at least for the moment. The idea now is to stay at the tiller, guiding my ship to shore despire hurricanes and mermaids and threats of mutiny. To not succumb to emotion and throw punches blindly but to keep going after that glass jaw no matter how many blows below the belt I take. To know myself and what I am capable of. To know it is always my plan, not theirs. I think that is the difference between kicking a ball up and down the field and actually winning a game. I don’t want another forfeit; I want a win.

I’m on a quest for a quality boner. Over the last decade or so of professional use, I’ve had a few boners. They generally started out fine but time and use and abuse would take their toll and wear them out. I’d often have a boner for a year or so, then get a new boner and run around boning all kinds of things with adolescent infatuation, which eventually wore off. My most recent boner has lain untouched and unused for several months now. The shape it is in, it is easier to not go to the trouble of pulling it out. But for what I do a quality boner is both desirable and necessary.

Last night I was in the company of several other chefs and there was some boning going on. I had to admit that my own boner was not the quality I wished, and asked the other chefs what type of boner each of them preferred. One chef reached under the table and pulled out his boner, waving it around for all of us to see. He said it was old, but had served him well for many years. It was nicked and tarnished and the tip was bent a little to the left(where it had probably hit the floor a couple of times) and had a wicked curve along the edge from much use. He let me hold it in my hand but it just didn’t feel right to me. Personally I thought his attachment was nostalgic, and that he could probably do with a fresh boner himself.

Another chef had his boner out and said of all the boners he’d had, he liked this one the best. It was kinda on the short side. I feel a quality boner should be at least 8 inches long. I asked him how he could get good penetration with something so short. He said it was no problem. Being short actually made it more maneuverable. “Don’t try and use long strokes, just work your way in and around with short stabs,” he told me. I got a grip on it and it fit pretty snugly in my fist. I observed that it wasn’t very sharp and the chef told me it was better that way. If it slipped out unexpectedly it was less like to hurt someone. I wasn’t sold on this one, either.

The next chef produced a boner that was so long and so wide it actually looked ridiculous. He was a young chef, not long in the profession. He said it was still a new boner and he had not gotten to use it very much, but it was a gift from his dad, and he was very proud of it. I looked at it thoughtfully, perhaps with a little jealousy, but said that with such a large boner I’d bet half of it would go unused. We all laughed and started calling him The Swordsman.

The lady chef at the table cleared her throat and said that she preferred a Global boner. She gripped it lightly by the tip and held it out for me. It was very pleasing to look at and well balanced and proportioned. One could tell from the shine and from the grip marks that it got a lot of use. “I like the way the tip curves up, just a little,” she said, rubbing a finger along the top edge. “It glides into whatever you are boning very easily, and doesn’t make a mess once inside. It can go really deep if necessary or just work around the surface.” She put her hand around mine and guided the boner’s tip into the fleshy cleft of meat. “See?” she said, smiling warmly. “Like going through butter. Ahhh, feel that? Right to the bone.” She smiled warmly. I agreed it was a good boner, but it was still a little light-weight for my tastes. And I’ve known Globals to snap and break right at the hilt if not handled properly. A friend of mine was boning a salmon with a Global and he flexed it too far and it snapped, nearly causing him to lose a finger. Hers was a pretty boner, but I was looking for something that was aesthetic and practical. Something hardworking, heavyweight, rugged and reliable, not just something for show.

“You want a good boner?” the head chef finally spoke up. “Go German. The last thing the Japanese made that could stab worth a damn was a samurai sword. You’re not a samurai, are you?” I admitted I wasn’t, but said I wasn’t German either. He waggled his finger and shook his head. “Stamped stainless steel is no match for drop forged high carbon steel, my friend.” With great flourish he whipped out a lethal-looking 6 inch Henckel boner and pointed it an inch from my nose. I stared down the half foot of its gleaming, arrow-straight length and felt something in my heart stir. Surely, this was a quality boner. A manly boner. He demonstrated how quickly and easily it could plow through a rack of lamb, parting flesh and separating bones without hesitation. When he turned it on its side and peeled away a layer of fat, the boner curved like a bow and whispered through the meat. It sprang straight again, resuming its beautiful lines. Awed, I asked if I could give it a try. The chef looked at me sternly. “This isn’t a toy, my friend. You don’t just pull this out and play with it. It is a serious tool and requires a serious attitude.” He carefully wiped every drop of blood and moisture off his boner and carefully put it away. It was certainly a nice piece, but sometimes some people think too much of their own equipment.

The show and tell session gave me a lot to think about. Right now I’m leaning towards something German. There is something so clean and elemental and… functional about the Henckel boner. It doesn’t so much carve the meat as it seduces it away from the bone. Straight where it needs to be, thick where it counts, curved in all the right places; it is what I suspect God would use to bone with. A strong and sensible thing to do business with. And the Germans do make good stuff. I will be out and around, checking out boners and handling a few. Henckel looks pretty good. Or maybe a Wusthof.

For a long time (years), I maintained an on & off routine of starting every day with 20 push ups and 20 situps. And if not first thing in the morning, then sometime during the day, be it during a workout or just before bed. Regardless of when I did them or what exercises they involved, I always just called them the 20/20s.

Despite numerous goals and ambitions to be healthier, fitter and get into better shape, I noticed that 20/20s weren’t making it onto the list anymore. Maybe I lost track of them during 4,300 challenges or some other new and elaborate fitness goal. Maybe I took them for granted.

This year I will fix that and not take my reliable little routine for granted. It isn’t much, just 20 push ups and 20 situps (any vaiety of ab exercise, actually). But it has always helped me and kept me in line in the past. And I need that help and routine at the start of this year.