Category: Life

I recently made the decision to adopt a senior dog. I thought about it a lot for the past few months. I was thinking of initially getting a puppy, but then I realized that is a long-term commitment. That brought up all kinds of things for me.

“Kurt, you struggle with sharing the same space with other people for the long term.”
“Kurt, you haven’t had any relationship last more than 3-5 yrs in the past many years.”
” What if you get fed up and tired of the puppy a few years in?”
“You already surrendered one dog many years ago because you didn’t make time for her.”

And on and on. The internal dialog was quite an interesting thing to observe and experience.

I ended up adopting Snow, a 12-year-old Shepherd Husky mix. She is a great girl.

Slightly aloof at times. Just like me

Sometimes pays attention to what others are saying, other times acts like she never heard anything you said. Just like me

She prefers sleeping outside. Just like me

Loves to sit outside and watch the birds. Just like me

Over the past few days, Snow has taught me a few things:
How to be more present in each moment.
How to observe something other than myself and pay attention to body language.
How to let something else be in my space and just let it be. “Sure sleep outside if you want, even though I would like you to sleep inside.”, ” Oh you want me to come outside right now even though I don’t want to. What do you have to show me?”
How when we go for one of our many walks every day, too listen and see what’s around us. Not thinking of tomorrow or what to do next. To enjoy the walk for what it is.

In a way, I guess what I was looking for was a teacher, a guru, a dog guru.

I adopted a wolf.

Which reminds me of a story!

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.
He said, “My son, the battle is between two “wolves” inside us all.
One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.
The other is good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.”
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: “Which wolf wins?”
The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”

 

 

I have started noticing the nearly imperceptible shifts of the seasons, the comings and goings of time upon the land. Each day brings a new change to this place, the Canary grass is just a bit taller, and the deer frequent the pond now to eat and drink. The return of my winged friends each morning as the sun crests the hill. The frogs have started singing late into the evening as I drift off to sleep.

When I lived elsewhere, I barely noticed the changes. The business of city life created a veil over my senses that blinded me to the subtle shifts of the earth, of how the cycles of life unfold all around us.

The quietness and calm create a song all its own, hidden amongst the trees and rocks. Sometimes it’s so quiet that all I can hear is the ringing in my ears. I have had tinnitus for what seems like forever, and I wonder if I truly know what quiet sounds like. With no background noise, planes, cars, leaf blowers, and the other music of modern society, quiet for me can become deafening in its own right.

This is solitude as I experience it. Most of my time is spent alone. Not necessarily lonely, but alone.

I have found in this solitude a certain calm and connection to self that I hadn’t felt before. A certain inward path has appeared on which I learn how to better see who, what I am, what is around me, and what is meant by life. It has really shown light upon how we are part of the earth, even though we are, at times, poor stewards of the land we inhabit. Even here, where most of the land I inhabit has been mostly untouched, I find our imprint on it. A few times a week, I walk and observe the abundant life around me. Ferns, moss, trees, rocks, tiny bits of plastic, old plastic bags, various detritus of all kinds, rusted car parts, and an old boat deteriorating amongst the trees.

I fill my pockets with plastic bits and old nails. The markings of my kind. I wonder, is this how we mark our territory? Like a grizzly bear leaving claw marks on trees.

It’s been about 6 months since moving out to the Island.
I guess I should describe where I live now.
The land I am on is just over 5 acres. It is forested with alder, and fir trees mostly.
Towards the back of the property is a wetland and pond that I believe are there year-round.

Beneath the trees lies a carpet of ferns and moss covering the forest floor. Out towards the pond, there is what is called “canary grass”, it’s a green wide-bladed grass that gets about 4 feet tall. Most of the land has never been cleared, there are downed trees, nurse logs, branches, and more sticks than you could ever pick up.
Half of the land is in a preservation trust, which means that I cannot build on it. At first, this caused me concern. Then I did some research and discovered that all the land I can see from my cabin has also been placed in the preservation trust. No one can build on it, ever. This means that I basically live in a preserve, a nature sanctuary and I will never see another house from my cabin.

Wildlife is everywhere.
I have never been interested much in birds….until now. Daily I see and or hear, robins, juncos, stellar jays, flickers, pileated woodpeckers, bald eagles, owls, ducks, and various other winged messengers. It’s become sort of a thing that I awake to the sound of birds as the sun comes up. I have noticed lately that even without thinking about it I can identify the bird calls and who they belong to. I have taken it upon myself to feed them (maybe a bad idea, they eat a LOT). I have various bird feeders I have built around the property that require filling and cleaning on a daily basis.
Spring has now arrived and I now notice a chorus of frogs each night as the sun sets. A multitude of Pacific Chorus Frogs, so many frogs. And also deer, lots of deer.

The cabin itself is 518 sq feet, it has a kitchen, a living area, a “bedroom” and a bathroom. Since moving here I have not had use of the indoor bathroom yet. It needed to be gutted and rebuilt. I have an outdoor propane shower and a composting toilet (Recently my indoor toilet was put in place). Showering outside when its 30 degrees and windy can be interesting. The primary source of heat is a wood stove. I do have a portable oil-filled radiator but I rarely use it. I sleep in the living room on a Japanese futon, complete with grass Tatami mats. I converted the bedroom into a workshop and storage space for the time being. Early on I decided to do all my cooking outside, I have a propane stove that I use for cooking on the covered deck. The reason for this is to reduce the food smells in such a small space. I also got rid of my indoor refrigerator and put a mini fridge out on the deck. I did this to reduce the sound of the fridge running since the kitchen and living room share the same space. Having an outdoor fridge comes with its own difficulties of course like when it freezes outside everything in the fridge freezes as well.

The land itself is in what is locally referred to as east-est Orcas. It’s pretty much the furthest you can get from the ferry landing. Once on the island, it’s another 45 minutes drive to get home. It’s past Doe bay, on the other side of Moran state park, if you drove further past the property about a mile you would drive into the ocean. I am 30 minutes from the nearest grocery store, which has done wonders for my desire for pie or ice cream and after-dinner snacking. I am way too lazy to drive 30 minutes each way to buy snacks.

The adjustment to this type of living has been interesting. There are always things to do. Stacking wood, splitting wood, moving wood, making kindling for the stove, feeding birds, raking up branches near the cabin, the near constant vacuuming of the cabin floor. After spending 2 years moving every month or so and living in other people’s spaces where I had nothing to do, no tasks or chores it is a welcome relief. Idle hands and all that…….

In closing. It’s not about making this place into something else, bending it to my will, or changing it. The land and forest has been here for millennia. It’s about listening to the stories it whispers of, all I have to do is listen, and then I change.

How is jumping rope just like life?

A few weeks ago, I hired a coach with a specific goal in mind, cut 10 min off my 10K time at Ancient Lakes in April 2023. That is roughly five months to reduce 10K by 1 min per kilometer. I didn’t think those numbers through, and in retrospect, it may be a bit aggressive. But I know I can do it.

So, where does the jump rope come in? Part of my prescribed training plan includes jumping rope one day a week. there are two options 45 double unders or 90 singles. Since I can’t do double unders, yet, I am doing singles. Oh, and I get to do ten sets of that in 30 minutes. Easy I thought.

I haven’t jumped rope in forever. I never played at that when I was a child. FOREVER

The first week, I started the jumping, and every 7-10 jumps, I would tangle myself up in some way or another. Then start again, for each set, I had to start over ten times or so to get to 90. I was so frustrated, and the more frustrated I became, the worse my jumping became. It was frustrating.

The second week I was able to do 20-30 without the tangle. Progress.

By the 3rd week, I could do 40-50 consecutive jumps. It felt so good.

Now, something happens to me when I get up there, I get tired. When that happens, I start focusing on the jumping, paying attention to the slap of the rope as it just barely hits the ground, feeling the tightness in my shoulder, wondering if I’m at the right cadence to keep it going, counting, 45, 46, 47 oops., dammit! UGH, I suck at this! Frustration, anger, all being stirred up inside me.

When I’m focusing on all these things, I inevitably tangle myself up.

The more I pay attention to what I’m doing, the less I can do it successfully.

This makes no sense initially.

So I stop, I unfocus my mind and my gaze from what I am trying to do, and just let go.

70, I just did 70 consecutive jumps. YES!

Why is it that when I don’t focus on the jumping, I can jump rope?

 

I think it’s this. Our minds are wonderfully analytical machines, able to analyze multiple things simultaneously, processing and prioritizing myriad things simultaneously. That’s all well and good. But when you have no idea how to do a thing, how can the mind/brain help you? You are analyzing things without enough information. So basically, I’m analyzing my jumping and have no idea how to jump. So whatever I think I need to be doing is probably on shaky ground, to begin with.

 

By taking the time and feeling my way into it, I develop a cadence that works for me. The more I focus on the task, the less capable I am of doing it. When I let go and “Do” instead of “Try,” I struggle less with the rope and my movement. Things begin to flow naturally.

 

90, I just did 90 consecutive jumps.

 

So now I can jump rope without trying to jump rope.

 

Just Like Life….

 

Try it sometime.

 

 

 

 

I decided to get out of town for a few days. I needed a break. The nonstop onslaught of political news was dying down. We have leadership that is committed to dealing with the crisis we are all experiencing. I was weary from staying at home for so long. I needed a change of environs. So I booked an Airbnb and decided to have a small retreat just for myself.

I haven’t read the news in 3 days now. I sometimes find myself opening the CNN or local news website, but I catch myself and shut it down. I have spent my hours thinking, writing, and just being. My stress level has dropped considerably.

I went for a run yesterday in the mountains. It was a tough slog, 6 miles total with around 2000 feet of elevation gain in the first 3 miles. I’ll be honest I didn’t actually run the whole thing uphill. Some of it was so steep I slowed to a fast walk. At the top of the trail, I ate a bit, had some water, and stood there staring at the view below. Then I prepped myself mentally for the downhill as I worked my way back to the trailhead. When I say that I am meaning I was thinking how difficult it may be, that’s a lot of downhill, which can wreak havoc on the legs, not to mention the fear of falling.

As I was running downhill, I became aware of just how much it was like a controlled fall. I began wondering about the sheer amount of perceptual information processing was taking place to keep me from actually falling. The trail was covered in dirt, gravel, rocks, and roots. Sunlight was intermittent as its rays peeked out between trees and foliage. I was moving at a rapid clip. With each footfall, I could potentially step wrong, and that would be it. Down I would go. But yet somehow, I maintained my footing. My mind, in concert with my eyes and ears, somehow kept me moving forward safely. How is this possible? I certainly wasn’t making a conscious effort to do any of this.

The constant change of the trail, coupled with the shifting sight and sound, was somehow processed in such a way that I was safe and successful. This all happened on a level that I wasn’t aware of. Our sensory system collects all the information about what is around us and directs the system as a whole to keep it safe and injury-free. If I were to do otherwise, like intentionally looking off to my left or right or closing my eyes and not looking forward, I would most likely stumble and fall.

I began wondering how this experience was related to life in general. We spend so much time distracted in one way or another, and we live in a world of Facebook, Twitter, news, and text messages. All pulling our attention in one direction or another. Potentially causing us to focus on something other than what is right in front of us. We become flooded with information that may or may not be pertinent to where we actually are or are going. Sitting at my desk right now in the rented Airbnb, I am looking at the screen while I write this, occasionally glancing out the window at the beautiful sight of the waterfront as the snow falls lightly on the deck. I focus on what is in front of me, no news sites, no Twitter, my phone is across the room charging. Did anyone message me in the last 30 minutes, what is happening at home, what are the current COVID numbers, are protests going on anywhere? None of that really matters to what I am doing right now and sitting here writing.

The internal systems that are tuned to keep me safe would take that additional information from these sources and try to apply it to what I am now doing. Which most likely would not be applicable or beneficial to me as my anxiety level would likely increase.

So what does all this mean?

For me, it is a reminder to stay in the present, slow down, and be in the “now.”

I have always been very open about who I am and the struggles I have gone through. I hide none of it and don’t intend to. As a culture and society, we are reluctant to share our deep dark secrets, the things we have struggled with, and where we think we have failed. Life can be an absolute shit show at times, if we can accept this and examine it, we can grow.

Why do we do this? Are we afraid of what people will think of us? Are we reluctant to share our struggles because no one will understand? Are we worried that we will be rejected because of our faults?

Are we afraid that if people knew our struggles that they may think less of us? Of course, we are! I would propose that when we don’t speak honestly and truthfully that the same thing happens. You can’t control what others see you as they will make that shit up anyway. That’s their story, not yours. Only by being open and honest can we create our own story. A story based on truth and integrity.

Someone once said to me, “If you don’t define yourself, others will do it for you”

Why is this all so hard?

“One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”
C.G. Jung

I think we make it so difficult because peering into the darkness is scary, uncomfortable, and seems illogical. If we want to feel better, to change, we just need to ignore the darkness.

Right?

Wrong.

As I have written about before you cannot have light without darkness, or vice versa. Only by examining the dark can we understand the light. Only by digging in the dark and unearthing what is there can we find the buried treasure of the self.

At first glance, it seems that it would be easier to look where it isn’t so dark. Where its easier to see. This is called the Street Light Effect

A policeman sees a drunk man searching for something under a streetlight and asks what the drunk has lost. He says he lost his keys and they both look under the streetlight together. After a few minutes the policeman asks if he is sure he lost them here, and the drunk replies, no, and that he lost them in the park. The policeman asks why he is searching here, and the drunk replies, “this is where the light is”

This is a type of observational bias, where we search for something where its easiest to look. Of course its easier to look under the street lamp. But is that where you lost the key?

Maybe you need to get a flashlight. And a shovel.