Popping Off

You will remember from a previous post that yesterday morning I battled a large banner (a sort of flexible, vinyl sign)  that had escaped its moorings and attacked me in the street near Brunswick Forest Boulevard. Of course, the story doesn't end there. Stories never do.

You will also remember that my morning salutations generally include a little qigong and taiji but never is there any reason for kung fu. However, yesterday morning, after the confrontation with the banner, that ancient martial art from the Wudang mountains of central China, did pop up, not unlike the way the demon king pops up from a trap door in a Thai water opera. And on this occasion, it was in front of the Lowe's Food's dairy case, of all places. I know!

Before coming back home, you see, I stopped at the grocers for milk. I was the only person in front of the dairy counter until Mutt and Jeff showed up. Now, those two characters were of the type that I call coastal yokels. I'm not going to explain that and I doubt you'll be able to find an explanation on Wikipedia. You can fill in the blanks or simply take it at face value. 

Mutt and Jeff ignored me searching for lactose-free milk and walked right up to the glass doors of the display case until their noses were inches from the glass. After about a minute, Mutt held the door open with his shoulder and the two of them moved even closer to the milk cartons. They were involved in a conversation that went something like this--I can't do the dialect, of course:

"Mmbuhmum, babba, gum," said Jeff.

"Ah bema ambit boh," replied Mutt.

Princess Amy and I endured a minute or two of this drivel but she was becoming more anxious with each passing second. She began to hop about from one foot to the other and then began waving her hands about. 

When she began shouting, Off with their heads! I tried calming her but the more I tried, the more belligerent she became. She opened a bottle of something that smelled pretty foul and poured it into my bloodstream. 

Well, what was I to do? I had to act. I thought that if I let her see me take some action, even a smidgen, she might calm down long enough for me to work out the details in a reasonable manner. But the only chance this tactic had of working depended on my making it just a little righteous.

I said in a voice that, looking back on it now, was perhaps a little too loud and was phrased with a goodish bit of topspin, "Don't just stand there with the door open!"

The two gave me a startled look as though seeing me for the first time. They may have thought me the spirit of their deceased grandfather or other because they let the door close without a word.

I now had Amy's attention along with Mutt's and Jeff's, which made the whole thing much too awkward to stop now.

"Have you made your selection?" I demanded and I'll tell you why I chose those words. You see these coastal yokel types expect to hear something along the lines of, You found your milk yet? When they hear something like, Have you made your selection, they think they're in the presence of the elite. And the result of it all is, they don't like it. So I was rubbing it in a little.

Jeff looked at Mutt and they replied in unison, "No."

"Well, step back and let me get my milk, please. Then you can take all the time you want."

Now, I want you to know that I expected some pushback from the two. But having closed the door with no objection, they continued in the same vein and stepped back from the dairy case. This was too easy. 

As I stepped up the door, I had second thoughts about the wisdom of having my back to them but my martial arts training told me that these two were not going to be trouble. Besides, turning my back completely implied that I considered them no more than the idle wind, which I respect not.

I retrieved my milk, closed the door, and gave them a stern look as I walked away. I believe if I had shouted, Drop and give me twenty, they would have complied.

Walking away, my conscience told me that this little episode represented a slip in my bipolar recovery, and I would have to make amends for it. But Princess Amy had stopped jumping around and her temperature was dropping from incandescent to moderate. She obviously approved of my handling of the situation. 

My feelings of the whole shebang were a mixture of mild regret caused by my back-sliding and something close to being pretty damn full of myself. I've still got it! about summed up my guilty indulgence.

Let me be perfectly clear; I'm not recommending that you follow my example. I highly recommend that you follow the middle way as described by the Buddha. But no matter what choice you make, be true to yourself and be kind to others.

Take It Easy

I was a new college student, something I had never imagined I might be, and yet here I was walking across campus to join some new friends for lunch. I was almost drunk with excitement. 

I’d lived my life up to now thinking that I was defective somehow and that I’d never have the opportunities that seemed to come effortlessly to others. I was convinced that I simply didn’t deserve the good things in life. It was just the way things were. Nothing to be done about it.

And yet, in the last few weeks of high school, I was surprised to learn that some of the people I’d known for 12 years actually thought of me as a friend. I still remember the shock—a joyful shock to be sure—when one of them told me that a small group was driving up to state college over the weekend and suggested that I join them. 

I did. 

A few months later, I was enrolled in university and had a part-time job in the local hospital. On this particular beautiful morning, I was walking across the mall thinking about how my life had turned around. I had a bright future as a medical research assistant—my dream job—and I was going to meet my new-found friends in the student union where we would share the excitement of new lives that included a future that would be bright and blissful. How could it not be, right?

The mall was a beautiful park-like setting in the center of campus, with meandering walkways shaded by gigantic oak trees. Walking underneath the oaks, I could hear drops of rain from the recent shower, as they fell from one leaf to the next with a wet plop, plop, plop. 

There was another sound too, slightly different from the sound of splattering raindrops. This sound was not so much plop as plip and it was followed quickly by plip, plip. I recognized the sound as that of acorns falling through the leafy canopy. 

The oaks were full of squirrels gathering acorns and occasionally one of the nuts would fall. I refer to the acorns, not the squirrels. Most of the dropped nuts would hit a tree limb and be deflected through the branches but some of them fell directly to the ground, not striking tree limbs, and those would fall hard and fast, hitting the ground with a solid thump.

I paid little attention to the plops and plips because I was caught up in thoughts of the future—the immediate future in the campus cafe and the glorious future in research labs finding the cure for cancer and any other malady that happened to get in my way. 

Then suddenly, out of the blue--thwack! 

A few days before, in my physics class, we had discussed Noh's scale of hardness, the standard method for determining the hardness of one object relative to another. You may remember that diamond is the hardest natural substance and is rated 10. The softest is talc and it’s rated 1. Most of the hard things we encounter in the world are rated 7. 

I don't know for sure where the outer shell of an acorn would fall on the Noh's scale--I'd guess a 6 maybe. But I can tell you that when an acorn falls from lofty heights and hits you squarely on the topknot, you forget about the future and pay intense attention to the here and now. Thwack! It hurts! The eyes fill with tears.

Now, given how happy I was at the instant just before that acorn arrived—my mood must have registered a 10 surely--you might expect my mood to fall to level 7 or possibly even 6. But you would be wrong. 

Just like that acorn that fell without anything slowing it, my mood fell directly into the basement. In an instant, expectations for that bright future were replaced with storm clouds. I would never be happy--never!

I didn't join my friends in the cafe. I couldn't face them, loser that I felt I was. I went back to my dorm room, a little cell that looked out over a parking lot, and sat there on my bed thinking that I should drop out of school and then what? I didn't really know. None of the ideas that came to mind seemed feasible. I wanted to disappear, to cease to exist.

If you can identify with that kind of drastic mood swing, then you probably already know something about the effects of run-away emotions. You've probably experienced times when your emotions got in the way of your intentions. Like the cat in the adage, letting I dare not wait upon I would.

It's not easy overcoming feelings like those described above but it can be done. There are no secrets and no "hacks." 

Fundamentally, it's all about paying attention to the feelings in my body and then persistently, even fiercely, practicing the principles that work to make us feel better, even when we don't "feel" like working them.

I refer to this persistent, stubborn commitment to my emotional recovery as Fierce Qigong. Overcoming emotional roadblocks requires fierceness because, just like that acorn, life comes hard and fast.

Join me, please. No matter whether you need some help coping with everyday life, or you simply wonder what I'm up to. When you read my blog posts, you're helping me with my recovery. If you have questions about anything I write about, please leave a question or comment. I really enjoy hearing from you.

Running On Empty

As I drove into the Castle Street Arts District this morning, the murals on the sides of buildings gave me no joy. At such an early hour, the traffic was light, and the streets were quiet, but all was confusion in my head. I felt like something the cat dragged in after a night of unusual circumstances. 

Now that you have all the data describing the starting point, you can predict the rest.

I'd come to Cafe Luna expecting to find my 15-year-old godniece Lupe there. She'd mentioned it in a text message I received this morning while preparing Uma's medications. I refer, of course, to Uma, Queen of Cats and Empress of Chatsford.

Lupe also mentioned something about ACDC tour dates, but I labeled that as an aside and gave the subject a miss. 

Her first text was terse and demanding. Come immediately, is what it said. I refer, of course, to Lupe's text, not Uma's. Uma doesn't have a phone anymore. I had to confiscate it after that mysterious box of cat toys turned up at our door, last summer.

I was at a loss to understand the exact meaning of her words. Come where?, I wondered, and why? I had no immediate comeback and I pondered the words trying to find the most appropriate reply.

What do you mean, come immediately? I typed.

What do you mean, what do I mean? came her response. I'm here at Cafe Luna waiting for you, you big jamoke. Get here in the next 15 minutes or eat my dust.

I suddenly remembered that I'd requested this audience the previous evening and I knew that if I didn't show up right away, the Cafe Luna sidewalk would be noticeably free of Lupes.

Still, even with good intentions and all that, I had to cross the river to get to the cafe. I don't mean that I had to row or catch a ferry. There is a bridge, but still, a few minutes were required to relocate. And so a few minutes later I was turning onto Castle Street and as I mentioned, the murals gave me no joy. 

I entered the cafe and saw them immediately. Lupe was dressed in a denim waist jacket if that's the term. She wore a short flannel skirt, black combat boots, and one of those leather caps that actors used to wear in movies of the late 60's.

I only mention her attire because, since moving to the Castle Street Arts district, her taste in outer upholstery has changed from Gothic to Hipster. It's something you may have noticed yourself.  

"Good morning," I said to the pair for there were two of them. I don't mean two Lupes. I wasn't manic after all. What I mean is that she was co-locating with a friend. I knew it was a friend because they were dressed alike. Jumping to conclusions do you think? Possibly.

"Good morning," said the friend, who resembled that young actress who starred in the movie from the early 80's. The one that became the seminal film of the decade. You know the one I mean. 

"Wow," said the godniece, who had remained silent until now--silent but with wide-eyed surprise on her map. "Why the frown? You look like something the cat dragged in..."

"After a wild night out with the neighborhood raccoons?" I said.

"I was going to say, Even though the market for same was sluggish to non-existent."

"What can I get you?" said a voice off-camera.

"Double cap," said Lupe. "Same," said Claudia. I did mention that her name was Claudia, didn't I? "I'll have an Americano," I said.

"Now tell me," said Lupe, "what's wrong with you?"

"For one thing," I said, "my thumb hurts like unrequited love because I stuck a hypodermic syringe underneath it while trying to load it with Uma's lactulose this morning."

"Oh, ungh!" said Claudia. "A hypodermic?"

"Not the pointy end," I said. "The other end." But she seemed to not get the gist. Her face radiated confusion. Rather than explain, I decided to change the subject because I didn't want this blog post to run into overtime.

And as for you," I said to Lupe, "I need some bright, warm welcoming this morning and so far your greeting hasn't met the necessary requirements."

"You know," she said, "there was a time when you behaved toward me like a godfather but you went astray somewhere and now I have to take care of myself. How could you forget that we were meeting here this morning?"

"Lupe, I need your advice," I said hoping to cut through all the distractions and get right to the nub. 

"I know," she said. "So whassup?" 

"It's like this," I said. "I've had several events of synchronicity lately. More than the recommended dose for the average adult. Events that involve things like Nickle Creek and Talking Heads."

"That is alarming," she said.

"You ain't heard nothin'," I said. "Most recently, I was reviewing some old blog posts and I came across the one titled, Saying Goodbye to Mom."

"That must have been difficult for you," she said.

"Don't interrupt please," I said, "I'll get off topic and never be able to find my way back."

"Two double cappuccinos and an americano," said the barista.

"Did I ask for an extra shot?" I said.

"No," she said, "but I'll take care of it right away."

I looked at the two hipsters seated with me at this table located near the window but not too near the door. I mention it here only because it's all I was aware of as I searched the recent activities to find my place in the narrative if it was a narrative.

The girls looked back at me as though they were waiting for me to finish something.

"What?" I said.

"Saying goodbye to Mom," said Lupe.

"Oh, right," I said. "You see, I remembered that the piece needed a bit of revision and since I had a few minutes, I decided to give it a go."

"Okay," she said and then looked at Claudia. Did I mention her name is Claudia? The above-mentioned looked back at her and then they both looked at me. 

"Go on," she said. Apparently, they were in agreement that my story was Okay so far.

"Well," I said. "The changes were already made and I don't remember making them. The phrases in the revisions were so creative, that I'm sure I'd remember if they were mine."

"The mind pulls some pretty quirky pranks sometimes," she said.

"You think that's all it is?" I said. "I just don't remember writing those words?"

"I'd say something along those lines, more or less, make up the probability distribution of the quantum wave function."

"I'm not so sure," I said.

"Well, at least consider it," she said, "and you might try sticking your finger in an electrical outlet on the chance that EST will reset your brain and clear up the mystery."

Once again, this teenage Jeeves had shown light on the dark corners of my mind. Our little encounter left me feeling better. The pain in the thumb was completely forgotten. Of course, my finger still smarted from the electrical shock.

Unleashing Inner Fierceness

About this same time of year but back a few years ago, I was in Savannah, Georgia, to immerse myself in lifestyle changes that I hoped would fully and finally liberate me from the emotional and physical pain that has plagued me for most of my life. I called this new way of living, fierce qigong.

I chose Savannah because it is one of my favorite cities, esteemed for many reasons but close to the top of the list is its colonial history--some of the cobblestones in River Street are actually ballast stones from sailing ships that once docked here.

I like it too for the European look and feel with its network of welcoming plazas and historic fountains, and the fact that it's the most walkable city I've found in America--it's a pleasure to park your car and forget it until you say goodbye.

The first morning in Savannah, I was in the park overlooking the Savannah River, between Bay Street and River Street. It was early--before dawn--and the only people moving about were the city sanitation workers and the homeless.

On a park bench near where I was performing morning salutations, one of the latter was just waking, stirred to life no doubt by the noise of the garbage trucks.

As I moved through Wuji Swimming Dragon and Waves on the Water, I realized that he was watching me and by the time I was ready to begin Separating Earth and Sky, he was walking my way.

"Morning," I said.

He returned the greeting and then said, "What is that you're doing? Are you a martial artist?"

"It's called qigong," I said, "and it's an ancient Chinese healing exercise."

"What's that?" he said.

I explained that qigong is many things and that its benefits include improving physical health and mental clarity.

"I need that," he said.

"It's easy," I said, "just do what I do."

I began my routine again and he followed along, surprising me by staying with me for all eight of the wudaos. When we finished I asked, "What do you think?"

"I think those ancient Chinese knew something," he said.

I understood exactly what he meant. Qigong has become the cornerstone of what I now call Fierce Living, a set of principles that I use to manage the physical pain of arthritis and the emotional pain of bipolar disorder.

Only since that day have I been able to truly say that I've found the solution to life's challenges and that I'm free from the limitations of yesterday. Life has truly become a qigong odyssey.

I haven't been back to Savannah since but when I do return I would love to find that the homeless of Savannah are practicing qigong on the river.

Life comes hard and fast--be ready for it--Fierce Qigong!

Angels Tip-Toe

The affair was one of those family gatherings that one wishes he could avoid but realizes that all things considered, better as Shakespeare said, 'Do it now and be done with it.'

I was late for the thing and rushed into the crowded room having completely forgotten that Elvis himself advised us against it. But there I was and the damage was done.

I'm a veteran of many of these cross-purposed family dust-ups and it was immediately plain to me that a crusty, cross-purposed dust-up is exactly what I'd interrupted.

Of course, the rumble was a private matter and my interest would inevitably be seen by some as an unwelcome intrusion, but the Genome warrior spirit had gotten the scent of battle up his nose and the old limbic system seemed to say, 'sic 'em, boy!'

I maneuvered around the crowd, hoping to avoid detection, and I eased up beside Lupe and leaned in for a low-key update on the goings-on. 

'Aunt Cynthia seems upset,' I said.

'Runs in the family,' said the Lupe. 

I found her remark to be a bit frosty and was disappointed because this little god-niece of mine is famous for her Zen-like self-control. And besides, I was only trying to assure her that I was on her side, as always.

'What's the trouble,' I said, 'with the aunt I mean.'

'She was just explaining to me,' she said, 'in as many ways as possible, that I'm completely off my head.'

Now there's a term that's bandied about in this family when referring to one another and I've never quite gotten my head around it. Oh, I know what it means well enough. But I don't understand how it was put together in the first place.

'Out of your mind or lost your head would seem a more suitable expression," I said, "but off your head? Strange.'

She gave me one of her looks, and before I could match it with the several of her looks that I keep in my mental databanks, she began drifting away from me. I mean she moved through the crowd in the general direction of the doorway. 

For the first time since entering the room, I realized that this little mosquito was heated up and that if I were to be of any assistance at all, I should not take this particular dust-up lightly. I followed her through the crowd.

Love is a delicate thing, of course, and requires nurturing and reassurance. My next remark, although intended to ease tension and bring a smile to her face, was probably not ideal.

'Should I agree with the aunt, then? Are you off your head?'

She didn't take it the way it was intended and gave me another look that made me feel like the cat that brings a gift of mouse to the party only to learn that the market for dead mice is weak to non-existent. 

'I was about to apply the remark to you,' she said and I had to admit that it was a juicy comeback. She amazes me with that quick wit of hers. But although it had been more than a decade since this sister-like god-niece had scratched my face, I felt she might be considering it now.

I'm not actually certain of the facts, but I am certain that she immediately became agitated, shifting from one foot to the other, like a zoo lion waiting for dinner. It isn't often that her angry passions get the better of her but it was obvious that her limbic system was having the same conversation with her that I'd experienced when I entered the room.

Square-jawed from the beginning, her countenance became firmly set and squarer, and into her eyes crept the light of battle. Runs in the family. Then she shuddered from stem to stern and moved off into the crowd but in the direction of Aunt Cynthia.

Well, there it is. Where others merely slap the forehead and pull the face, she takes action. Catherine of Russia was the same. I wasn't actually there for the finale--called away on urgent business; Ms. Wonder had called to request a cup of the steaming from Port City Java. My guess is that whatever happened after I left, didn't go well at all. I'll update you in a future post.