It seems intimidating, at the beginning.
But it's not so much.
All honest effort is honorable.
We start at the beginning ...
and keep striving...
until we earn our rest.
Mindful of Small Things
God? Who is this "God" person people keep yammering about on TV and the radio? What proof is there of this "God"? Man, those religionists are so superstitious and unscientifical. Randomness explains it all. Didn't they go to school, and learn all about science?
You don't have to get along with God. But surely you must believe in him. Him. There has to be an explanation, for beauty. An explanation that isn't casuistic. But maybe there's no such thing after all. Maybe rationality itself is random.
Anyways.
What matters is results. If you'd like to be beautiful as a bug, eat right, and exercise effectively.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
A horse fly. Horse flies are for killing. Who knew that they were beautiful.
Flies. Beelzebub is the lord of flies. But they can't be all bad.
The grasshopper. Very discreet -- deadpan.
A bee. And its pollen.
A harvestman. Seems to be missing a leg. Life is hard.
Jumping spider, male.
Jumping spider, female.
Body shot. She's hot.
Ladybug. Not a good name.
There are dragons -- Chinese dragons. They're just an inch long, is all.
Even a weevil -- such crasftsmanship.
You don't have to get along with God. But surely you must believe in him. Him. There has to be an explanation, for beauty. An explanation that isn't casuistic. But maybe there's no such thing after all. Maybe rationality itself is random.
Anyways.
What matters is results. If you'd like to be beautiful as a bug, eat right, and exercise effectively.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
Marketing
Are you sad?
-->
-->
Distressed?
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-->
At your wits’ end?
Moody?
Irascible?
.jpg)
No pep?
-->
Who could resist such a compelling presentation? It's irresistible. But regardless of how subtle the message, it's results that matter. Do what is effective. We'll leave the rest for you to intuit, deduce, or stumble onto.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
Distressed?
At your wits’ end?
Moody?
Irascible?
Snippy?
No pep?
No vim?
Life got y0u
DOWN?!?
DOWN?!?
Fit W 0rks!!!
All your ills will
tota lly disappear,
tota lly disappear,
100% GUARENTEED!!!
(Guarantee not valid.)
CrossFitBurbank
Inquire immediately!!!
Inquire immediately!!!
FitWorks
-----
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
Unforgiven
Deserves got nothing to do with it.
Has to do with justice. An illusive thing. Hybrid of the unicorn and the snipe. Or is that just cynical. Point is, we deserve what we earn. We earn what we work at -- where we put our effort and time. If you spend a lot of time, oh, say, eating, then you most certainly do deserve those extra pounds.
An unsympathetic judgment? Reality is ever so unforgiving. Gravity doesn't call a timeout. You stumble, you fall -- or catch yourself; in neither case does gravity bend its rules.
We deserve what we earn, whether or not we get it. Wanting fitness, or an attractiveness of figure or physique -- well, that's just an emotion, the wanting. Do you deserve what you want? Only if you've earned it. We exclude of course such basic human rights as air and justice. We deserve justice, although we may not want it. Depends what our conduct has been, eh?
So when advertisers tickle our ears by suggesting we deserve every wonderful thing, yeah, there's the part of us that says, "Yep, that's right -- I deserve it! Cuz I'm so great! Yeeeah!" Then there's the rational part of the brain, that remembers cause and effect.
You rewarded yourself with that half-gallon in one sitting of rocky road ice cream because you earned it by having a hard day at work, or by having your paramour disrespect you so that you required some other comforting. That was the intent of eating all that ice cream. And you were comforted. But those 2700 calories amount to almost one sexy pound of body fat. You earned that too, by eating the ice cream -- and hoping that your body uses it to give you Angelina Jolie lips may not be a desire thoroughly grounded in reality.
We deserve what we earn. Physics is not forgiving. Entropy is the presiding law of the universe. Miracles come from outside of the universe, and, like forgiveness, have to do with grace, with unmerited favor. We hope for it, but we don't deserve it. Hardly ever.
A dark message? But no! -- a message of hope. Because when we apply intelligence to any mechanistic system, entropy is reversed. Order increases rather than declines. Beauty is generated. We grow fit. We become, in a very real way, younger. Why, it's almost miraculous! Strange, how going through some ritual can change reality. Working out, then -- that most mundane of processes -- is where magic comes from.
You deserve what you earn. You earn what you work for. They call it "working" out for a reason. Of course we all know this. But if that's the case, why do the advertisers try to tell us otherwise? You deserve a break today? Maybe. How would they know? Indeed, they know as well as we do, that people only deserve what they earn. And if they know it, why are they lying? -- and if they're not lying, how did they get so crazy? Bewildering.
How to earn what you want? In this context, effective exercise, and responsible diet. It's not about tickling your ears, unless its from beads of sweat running down the side of your head.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
Has to do with justice. An illusive thing. Hybrid of the unicorn and the snipe. Or is that just cynical. Point is, we deserve what we earn. We earn what we work at -- where we put our effort and time. If you spend a lot of time, oh, say, eating, then you most certainly do deserve those extra pounds.
An unsympathetic judgment? Reality is ever so unforgiving. Gravity doesn't call a timeout. You stumble, you fall -- or catch yourself; in neither case does gravity bend its rules.
We deserve what we earn, whether or not we get it. Wanting fitness, or an attractiveness of figure or physique -- well, that's just an emotion, the wanting. Do you deserve what you want? Only if you've earned it. We exclude of course such basic human rights as air and justice. We deserve justice, although we may not want it. Depends what our conduct has been, eh?
So when advertisers tickle our ears by suggesting we deserve every wonderful thing, yeah, there's the part of us that says, "Yep, that's right -- I deserve it! Cuz I'm so great! Yeeeah!" Then there's the rational part of the brain, that remembers cause and effect.
You rewarded yourself with that half-gallon in one sitting of rocky road ice cream because you earned it by having a hard day at work, or by having your paramour disrespect you so that you required some other comforting. That was the intent of eating all that ice cream. And you were comforted. But those 2700 calories amount to almost one sexy pound of body fat. You earned that too, by eating the ice cream -- and hoping that your body uses it to give you Angelina Jolie lips may not be a desire thoroughly grounded in reality.
We deserve what we earn. Physics is not forgiving. Entropy is the presiding law of the universe. Miracles come from outside of the universe, and, like forgiveness, have to do with grace, with unmerited favor. We hope for it, but we don't deserve it. Hardly ever.
A dark message? But no! -- a message of hope. Because when we apply intelligence to any mechanistic system, entropy is reversed. Order increases rather than declines. Beauty is generated. We grow fit. We become, in a very real way, younger. Why, it's almost miraculous! Strange, how going through some ritual can change reality. Working out, then -- that most mundane of processes -- is where magic comes from.
You deserve what you earn. You earn what you work for. They call it "working" out for a reason. Of course we all know this. But if that's the case, why do the advertisers try to tell us otherwise? You deserve a break today? Maybe. How would they know? Indeed, they know as well as we do, that people only deserve what they earn. And if they know it, why are they lying? -- and if they're not lying, how did they get so crazy? Bewildering.
How to earn what you want? In this context, effective exercise, and responsible diet. It's not about tickling your ears, unless its from beads of sweat running down the side of your head.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
Some Mockery, Then Some Information
People are saying that they're feeling differently about you. Ever since they saw you naked that one time, they're saying they've lost all respect for you. They say they can't understand how anyone could let happen to them what you've let happen to you. It's astonishing. Clothes sure do make the man. Clothes, and buckets and buckets of pork rinds. It's like pudding poured into a canvass sack. There is a sort of shape. But are there any bones in there? Or is it all, uh, stuffing. That's what they're saying.
Food is about health. Exercise is about fitness. You can have fit people, elite athletes, who get by on genetics and training. Are they healthy? If health is the absence of sickness, then yes they are. But health is a reservoir of potentials. It's not just what's on the surface. The question is, are you able to fight off sickness, and not just avoid it somehow. Can you confront it, and beat it before it gets a hold. And all those diseases awaiting some person down the line -- are they dormant or incipient or festering now? If so, that's not health.
Same with healthy people, with their great diets. It's not the same as fitness. Diet makes fitness easier, but fitness is about performance, and that has to be practiced. Training. By these standards, though, it is clear that the starting point is health, and fitness follows. Diet, followed by training.
Here's the upshot, about why carbs are bad. All calories can be made into fat. Free fatty acids. That's just a form of usable energy in your blood. These fats are stored in cells as FAT -- blubber fat -- by being bound together as triglycerides. The glue that turns the good free fatty acids into the bad blubber is glycerol. Your body gets glycerol by burning carbs -- glucose. So the more carbs you burn, the more glue there is to bind fats. Glycerol is the limiting factor.
Isn't that interesting? It's exactly the same idea as with omega 3. You can't make anti-inflammatory hormones unless you have omega 3. The more you have, the more you can make, and that's a good thing. The more glycerol you have, the more blubber you can make, and that's a bad thing. The wrong lesson to draw from this is that you shouldn't eat carbs. Plants are carbs. Eat plants. Don't eat glue factories. Grains. Some bread? Sure, once in a while. All the time, at every meal? What, is there a famine? Wheat is great if you're starting a neolithic civilization. But too few calories is not the problem, in 21st century America.
The observation has been made that Canadians don't seem nearly as fat as Americans. Well, the Canadian government didn't start to sponsor a poisonous -- low fat -- diet, beginning in the 80s. Exactly the time when obesity started its meteoric rise. Although meteors don't rise. Sure, low fat generally means fewer calories. But it also means low ESSENTIAL fats. You can turns carbs into fat, but never into essential fats. So it's a malnutrition diet. Brilliant. Thanks for that. Instead of getting the essentials, we got hydrogenated- and transfats.
Where's a coup when you need one? Start with yourself. Sensible diet, sensible exercise.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
Food is about health. Exercise is about fitness. You can have fit people, elite athletes, who get by on genetics and training. Are they healthy? If health is the absence of sickness, then yes they are. But health is a reservoir of potentials. It's not just what's on the surface. The question is, are you able to fight off sickness, and not just avoid it somehow. Can you confront it, and beat it before it gets a hold. And all those diseases awaiting some person down the line -- are they dormant or incipient or festering now? If so, that's not health.
Same with healthy people, with their great diets. It's not the same as fitness. Diet makes fitness easier, but fitness is about performance, and that has to be practiced. Training. By these standards, though, it is clear that the starting point is health, and fitness follows. Diet, followed by training.
Here's the upshot, about why carbs are bad. All calories can be made into fat. Free fatty acids. That's just a form of usable energy in your blood. These fats are stored in cells as FAT -- blubber fat -- by being bound together as triglycerides. The glue that turns the good free fatty acids into the bad blubber is glycerol. Your body gets glycerol by burning carbs -- glucose. So the more carbs you burn, the more glue there is to bind fats. Glycerol is the limiting factor.
Isn't that interesting? It's exactly the same idea as with omega 3. You can't make anti-inflammatory hormones unless you have omega 3. The more you have, the more you can make, and that's a good thing. The more glycerol you have, the more blubber you can make, and that's a bad thing. The wrong lesson to draw from this is that you shouldn't eat carbs. Plants are carbs. Eat plants. Don't eat glue factories. Grains. Some bread? Sure, once in a while. All the time, at every meal? What, is there a famine? Wheat is great if you're starting a neolithic civilization. But too few calories is not the problem, in 21st century America.
The observation has been made that Canadians don't seem nearly as fat as Americans. Well, the Canadian government didn't start to sponsor a poisonous -- low fat -- diet, beginning in the 80s. Exactly the time when obesity started its meteoric rise. Although meteors don't rise. Sure, low fat generally means fewer calories. But it also means low ESSENTIAL fats. You can turns carbs into fat, but never into essential fats. So it's a malnutrition diet. Brilliant. Thanks for that. Instead of getting the essentials, we got hydrogenated- and transfats.
Where's a coup when you need one? Start with yourself. Sensible diet, sensible exercise.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
A Product Review
I made the mistake of going to the so-called "Infinite Dinosaurs Total Fitness Personal Training Boutique" for about three times. Total ripoff. Unbelievably bad. First of all, it's in a storage shed behind The Liquor Barn, and the place stinks of bum urine and there are broken syringes all over the sidewalk. There's like one 40 watt bulb hanging from a cord in the middle of the space, that keeps getting broken when you do the idiotic "exercises."
Bob Dude -- I think that's his real name -- runs the place and is a total amateur conman, and he charges $175 per session. It's like he makes it up on the spot, when he runs the so-called "workout". One time he had me flapping my arms like a chicken for 45 minutes. He called it the "mega-delt-lat-blaster" or some garbage like that. Said it would give me shoulders like a "bunt cake" whatever that is. And he's always hitting on the chicks in this really cheesy old-guy way. He says "Hey, qt, how's it playin" and then he says, "that's 'q' and 't', as in 'quite tasty'." And then he giggles through his nose. Just embarrassing.
He's always pushing his garbagy products, and I saw his storeroom full of unsold junk from like the 80s. Now it's his InfidiNopro thing. It's a bunch of photocopied pages stapled together. Want to know what "Tonal Tonics" is? It's you, with your nose pressed to the bathroom mirror, screaming at the top of your lungs for 15 minutes nonstop. The noise is supposed to reflect back and "tone" not just your face muscle -- he calls it an "instant mega minifacelift" -- but it does your abs too, he says. Doofus. His "MacroFascial Flexic Blast" is about 3 feet of 7 inch by 5/8 rubberbands hooked together like you did when you were in 4th grade. I kid you not. It is literally garbage. You wrap it around your head and make faces. The doofus doesn't even know what fascia means.
Instead of Infinite Dino-sucks I recommend, FitWorks, which is CrossFit Burbank. Focus is on sensible exercise, sensible diet -- not a lot of big-sounding promises -- do the work and get the benefits. Not a lot of wasted motion. Necessary motion. No chicken-wing flapping. Sheesh. FitWorks is about being competent. Functionality, not poser appearance. And you won't end up with scabies from touching that Infamous Dino-sores scandalous floor. Bob Dude doesn't even own a mop.
A Reviewer
COMMENTS:
3:51 AM
Anonymous said...
Do not believe this review! It is totally bogus! I have been a patron of this highly elite INFINITE DINOSAURS™ TOTAL FITNESS PERSONAL TRAINING BOUTIQUE! for many years, and it is ABSOLUTELY AWESOME! Bob Dude is an AMAZING trainer, the best ever, and his abs are totally OFF THE HOOK! The chicks all really dig him, and his products sell at an amazing rate, and he owns lots of mops.
3:54 AM
Blogger Bob Dude said...
And furthermore, I know this dude who wrote that review, and HE'S the one who's a doofus. So I kicked him out and now he's all mad like a P-Factor™ baby.
3:54 AM
Blogger Bob Dude said...
And also, this poser reviewer has violated trademark law by not including the trademark symbol when he mentioned Bob Dudes proprietorial products and ideas. All rights commercial and/or otherwise of INFINITE DINOSAURS!™ and/or any of its concepts and/or products, including but not limited to Tonal Tonics™ and MacroFascial Flexic Blast™, are hereby asserted and affirmed by their respective legal owner(s). Violators will be prosecuted.
4:01 AM
Anonymous said...
Oh, and never mind that the heading in those other two comments was of Bob Dude. It's just a glitch or something in the internet. It's very common, as a search of the relevant websites on the net will prove. I'm a disinterested and VERY totally satisfied customer. Honest.
Well. That was weird. Ever get the feeling that not everything is as it should be, in the fitness world? So many promises. So much hype. So many, so very many posers. How sad.
Just be excellent, is all. You get that way by doing constantly varied functional movements at high intensity with consistency. Easy. Don't do useless things. Work hard.
Bob Dude -- I think that's his real name -- runs the place and is a total amateur conman, and he charges $175 per session. It's like he makes it up on the spot, when he runs the so-called "workout". One time he had me flapping my arms like a chicken for 45 minutes. He called it the "mega-delt-lat-blaster" or some garbage like that. Said it would give me shoulders like a "bunt cake" whatever that is. And he's always hitting on the chicks in this really cheesy old-guy way. He says "Hey, qt, how's it playin" and then he says, "that's 'q' and 't', as in 'quite tasty'." And then he giggles through his nose. Just embarrassing.
He's always pushing his garbagy products, and I saw his storeroom full of unsold junk from like the 80s. Now it's his InfidiNopro thing. It's a bunch of photocopied pages stapled together. Want to know what "Tonal Tonics" is? It's you, with your nose pressed to the bathroom mirror, screaming at the top of your lungs for 15 minutes nonstop. The noise is supposed to reflect back and "tone" not just your face muscle -- he calls it an "instant mega minifacelift" -- but it does your abs too, he says. Doofus. His "MacroFascial Flexic Blast" is about 3 feet of 7 inch by 5/8 rubberbands hooked together like you did when you were in 4th grade. I kid you not. It is literally garbage. You wrap it around your head and make faces. The doofus doesn't even know what fascia means.
Instead of Infinite Dino-sucks I recommend, FitWorks, which is CrossFit Burbank. Focus is on sensible exercise, sensible diet -- not a lot of big-sounding promises -- do the work and get the benefits. Not a lot of wasted motion. Necessary motion. No chicken-wing flapping. Sheesh. FitWorks is about being competent. Functionality, not poser appearance. And you won't end up with scabies from touching that Infamous Dino-sores scandalous floor. Bob Dude doesn't even own a mop.
A Reviewer
*************************************************
COMMENTS:
3:51 AM
Anonymous said...
Do not believe this review! It is totally bogus! I have been a patron of this highly elite INFINITE DINOSAURS™ TOTAL FITNESS PERSONAL TRAINING BOUTIQUE! for many years, and it is ABSOLUTELY AWESOME! Bob Dude is an AMAZING trainer, the best ever, and his abs are totally OFF THE HOOK! The chicks all really dig him, and his products sell at an amazing rate, and he owns lots of mops.
3:54 AM
Blogger Bob Dude said...
And furthermore, I know this dude who wrote that review, and HE'S the one who's a doofus. So I kicked him out and now he's all mad like a P-Factor™ baby.
3:54 AM
Blogger Bob Dude said...
And also, this poser reviewer has violated trademark law by not including the trademark symbol when he mentioned Bob Dudes proprietorial products and ideas. All rights commercial and/or otherwise of INFINITE DINOSAURS!™ and/or any of its concepts and/or products, including but not limited to Tonal Tonics™ and MacroFascial Flexic Blast™, are hereby asserted and affirmed by their respective legal owner(s). Violators will be prosecuted.
4:01 AM
Anonymous said...
Oh, and never mind that the heading in those other two comments was of Bob Dude. It's just a glitch or something in the internet. It's very common, as a search of the relevant websites on the net will prove. I'm a disinterested and VERY totally satisfied customer. Honest.
-------------
Well. That was weird. Ever get the feeling that not everything is as it should be, in the fitness world? So many promises. So much hype. So many, so very many posers. How sad.
Just be excellent, is all. You get that way by doing constantly varied functional movements at high intensity with consistency. Easy. Don't do useless things. Work hard.
Getting Serious
Being sedentary is certainly not the same as sloth. Working at the computer is work, and productive. Not a deadly sin at all. A virtue, even. Not sloth -- sedentary. But the body doesn’t know the difference. Bodies don’t get it, about morality and wickedness. They just feel and react, like animals. The thing that distinguishes our bodies from those of animals is our magnificent brains, what with their intellects and wills and, uh, other good human stuff. Ambition. The ambition to excel.
We say it a lot, because simple truths resonate the loudest: As easy as it was to get out of shape, that’s how hard it is to get back into shape. On the other hand, getting back into shape is like forgiveness. It’s like redemption. It’s almost religious. Hallelujah. The cliché is, the more you put in, the more you get out. True, but that’s a sort of euphemistic way of saying it. The harsher, more accurate way to say it is that it takes intensity. That’s harsh because intensity really means suffering. Breathing a little hard is not intense at all. Gasping like you’re terrified is intense.
That’s the bad news. The good news is that most folks don’t aspire to be world class, elite athletes, so they don’t need to suffer quite that much. Their intensity level can be much lower, and they can still attain very respectable goals. The other bad news though is that their intensity must be much, much, very much more than just breathing a little hard.
It really isn’t about the effort. It’s not about desire or will power. It’s about your body’s hormonal response, the signals to and from your brain that tell the body to store or burn fat, or build muscle, or the like. Wanting such messages to be sent isn’t enough. Sending a clear signal is what it’s about. We send those messages by stressing the body. The bigger the stress -- not, mind you, distress -- the clearer the signal, and the more beneficial the response. In this case, intensity equals effectiveness.
Effectiveness matters, because most people are not genetically gifted. The dudes you see on the muscleman mag covers, they didn’t get that way because they had effective workouts. Barring steroids, they’d look like that by doing pretty much any workout. They have bodies that respond to motion, whereas most of us have to do actual exercise -- the effective kind, that we’ve talked about before.
So, depending on your genes to keep you healthy and looking good is a bad plan. It’s like depending on luck. It’s not a plan at all. It’s depending on your body, your animal body, rather than your magnificent human brain. Your body is what got you out of shape. Your brain will get you back into shape -- by disciplining the beast, the way a lion tamer works his craft. Crack the whip.
If people could do it on their own, there would be no fitness specialists. On the other hand, if people could set their own broken bones or treat their diabetes, there would be no doctors. Point is, we need help. Help with what’s effective, rather than what’s a waste of effort, and help with motivation -- it’s all so emotional, after all. It’s on you, you know, your health and appearance and the way you feel. But feel free to ask for help.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
We say it a lot, because simple truths resonate the loudest: As easy as it was to get out of shape, that’s how hard it is to get back into shape. On the other hand, getting back into shape is like forgiveness. It’s like redemption. It’s almost religious. Hallelujah. The cliché is, the more you put in, the more you get out. True, but that’s a sort of euphemistic way of saying it. The harsher, more accurate way to say it is that it takes intensity. That’s harsh because intensity really means suffering. Breathing a little hard is not intense at all. Gasping like you’re terrified is intense.
That’s the bad news. The good news is that most folks don’t aspire to be world class, elite athletes, so they don’t need to suffer quite that much. Their intensity level can be much lower, and they can still attain very respectable goals. The other bad news though is that their intensity must be much, much, very much more than just breathing a little hard.
It really isn’t about the effort. It’s not about desire or will power. It’s about your body’s hormonal response, the signals to and from your brain that tell the body to store or burn fat, or build muscle, or the like. Wanting such messages to be sent isn’t enough. Sending a clear signal is what it’s about. We send those messages by stressing the body. The bigger the stress -- not, mind you, distress -- the clearer the signal, and the more beneficial the response. In this case, intensity equals effectiveness.
Effectiveness matters, because most people are not genetically gifted. The dudes you see on the muscleman mag covers, they didn’t get that way because they had effective workouts. Barring steroids, they’d look like that by doing pretty much any workout. They have bodies that respond to motion, whereas most of us have to do actual exercise -- the effective kind, that we’ve talked about before.
So, depending on your genes to keep you healthy and looking good is a bad plan. It’s like depending on luck. It’s not a plan at all. It’s depending on your body, your animal body, rather than your magnificent human brain. Your body is what got you out of shape. Your brain will get you back into shape -- by disciplining the beast, the way a lion tamer works his craft. Crack the whip.
If people could do it on their own, there would be no fitness specialists. On the other hand, if people could set their own broken bones or treat their diabetes, there would be no doctors. Point is, we need help. Help with what’s effective, rather than what’s a waste of effort, and help with motivation -- it’s all so emotional, after all. It’s on you, you know, your health and appearance and the way you feel. But feel free to ask for help.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
Bob's Photo Album
Bob is a bodybuilder. Bob Dude. He is totally jazzed about his phenomenal training!!! He's emailed FW a number of photos he'd like to post, enthusing people about his life!!!!!!!
Here's the house Bob says he grew up in, on the road up to the Hollywood reservoir. Bob says he still lives there.
He says it has a lot of stairs.
This is Bob's old "psycho" girl friend Gwen. Bob says he is "so totally over her." Bob says that some wisenheimers say Gwen is a man, but Bob thinks that's just ignorant. He thinks they are ignorant of basic anatomy.
Bob says Gwen totally cut up his comic book collection with pinking shears.
This is Bob's dog Yoda, that cost $1700.
That's Gwen holding him. "Before she got totally fat," Bob adds. Bob says she claimed it was a glandular problem. "Yeah," says Bob, "if a spoon is a gland." He asks, "Where can you hide ice cream?"
Here's Ursula, Bob's latest girlfriend. Bob made an inappropriate comment about her, which shall not be repeated.
Then Bob got a little abusive and insulting toward other men, and calls them "epicene little babbits." Bob may have a hormonal imbalance that affects his judgment and civility.
Bob says this is his workout buddy, who is "something big in the entertainment industry." Bob declines to drop any names, but says "you have definitely heard of him." The italics are his.
Bob maintains that this is the product of "hard work and perseverance," and that "you too can look this good, if you really want it." The emphases are again his.
Here's Bob, he says. He says he's a bit unsatisfied with his left latissimus dorsi, which he says seems a little puny compared to the right, but he thinks it may be the lighting. He says it feels symmetrical, what he can reach of it.
Bob thinks people stare at him, and is often heard to say, "Hey, I'm up here. A little privacy?"
Bob has many photos of himself and his life. If you would like to see more, he says, on his private subscription website, he wants you to email him and he will send you an application form. He says you will not be sorry.
So that's Bob and what he thought he'd like to share of his life in pictures. Who are we to judge? If his aesthetics and common sense are a tad different than our own, at least he seems to be doing no harm.
Most people have different goals than Bob's. Most folks want to increase their level of fitness, so that they feel and function at a level better than they have ever known. We think those are excellent goals. Most people, deep down, admit that appearance is important, but health is even more important. We agree. It's a package deal, where fitness, health and appearance are highly correlated. Sensible and beneficial goals, well, how sensible.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
Here's the house Bob says he grew up in, on the road up to the Hollywood reservoir. Bob says he still lives there.
He says it has a lot of stairs.This is Bob's old "psycho" girl friend Gwen. Bob says he is "so totally over her." Bob says that some wisenheimers say Gwen is a man, but Bob thinks that's just ignorant. He thinks they are ignorant of basic anatomy.
Bob says Gwen totally cut up his comic book collection with pinking shears.
This is Bob's dog Yoda, that cost $1700.
That's Gwen holding him. "Before she got totally fat," Bob adds. Bob says she claimed it was a glandular problem. "Yeah," says Bob, "if a spoon is a gland." He asks, "Where can you hide ice cream?"Here's Ursula, Bob's latest girlfriend. Bob made an inappropriate comment about her, which shall not be repeated.
Then Bob got a little abusive and insulting toward other men, and calls them "epicene little babbits." Bob may have a hormonal imbalance that affects his judgment and civility.Bob says this is his workout buddy, who is "something big in the entertainment industry." Bob declines to drop any names, but says "you have definitely heard of him." The italics are his.
Bob maintains that this is the product of "hard work and perseverance," and that "you too can look this good, if you really want it." The emphases are again his.
Here's Bob, he says. He says he's a bit unsatisfied with his left latissimus dorsi, which he says seems a little puny compared to the right, but he thinks it may be the lighting. He says it feels symmetrical, what he can reach of it.
Bob thinks people stare at him, and is often heard to say, "Hey, I'm up here. A little privacy?"Bob has many photos of himself and his life. If you would like to see more, he says, on his private subscription website, he wants you to email him and he will send you an application form. He says you will not be sorry.
So that's Bob and what he thought he'd like to share of his life in pictures. Who are we to judge? If his aesthetics and common sense are a tad different than our own, at least he seems to be doing no harm.
Most people have different goals than Bob's. Most folks want to increase their level of fitness, so that they feel and function at a level better than they have ever known. We think those are excellent goals. Most people, deep down, admit that appearance is important, but health is even more important. We agree. It's a package deal, where fitness, health and appearance are highly correlated. Sensible and beneficial goals, well, how sensible.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
Strength through Joy
This is the original sketch for the KdF-Wagen -- Kraft durch Freude. The Strength through Joy Car.
You've heard of the artist. Of course you have. A certain A. Hitler? Who was, by the way, a vegetarian.
Turn that frown upside down, mister.
He was taking a leisurely luncheon on a balmy München afternoon in the giddy summer of '32, when it came to him as an inspiration. Later he slipped the sketch to Jakob Werlin, head of Daimler-Benz: "Take it with you and speak with people who understand more about it than I do. But don't forget it. I want to hear from you soon, about the technical details." It's refreshing to find a leader who doesn't think he knows it all, and who knows how to delegate ... that was Carter's problem.
And the rest is, as they say, history.
Isn't it funny where things come from?
Yep. Strength is good. When it's sane. Balanced, with endurance, and speed, and flexibility -- and benevolence, sanity, and not being evil. We must be speaking of another sort of strength. Yes, we are. The healthy kind. That can be earned through a diligent character, using self-discipline and intelligence.
That's what meaningful exercise is about. Keeping a focus, using safe and effective techniques, to gain admirable goals of self-improvement.
FitWorks. We do that. Focus, effectiveness. Your excellence is our excellence. We're good for each other.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
You've heard of the artist. Of course you have. A certain A. Hitler? Who was, by the way, a vegetarian.
Turn that frown upside down, mister.
He was taking a leisurely luncheon on a balmy München afternoon in the giddy summer of '32, when it came to him as an inspiration. Later he slipped the sketch to Jakob Werlin, head of Daimler-Benz: "Take it with you and speak with people who understand more about it than I do. But don't forget it. I want to hear from you soon, about the technical details." It's refreshing to find a leader who doesn't think he knows it all, and who knows how to delegate ... that was Carter's problem.
And the rest is, as they say, history.
Buy the dream.
Isn't it funny where things come from?
Yep. Strength is good. When it's sane. Balanced, with endurance, and speed, and flexibility -- and benevolence, sanity, and not being evil. We must be speaking of another sort of strength. Yes, we are. The healthy kind. That can be earned through a diligent character, using self-discipline and intelligence.
That's what meaningful exercise is about. Keeping a focus, using safe and effective techniques, to gain admirable goals of self-improvement.
FitWorks. We do that. Focus, effectiveness. Your excellence is our excellence. We're good for each other.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
Bob's Abs
If we could read minds, what, what indeed might we discover? We have those fantasies, as adolescents -- what if I could be invisible?! You'd be cold most of the time, is the answer. As for mind-reading, it would undoubtedly be a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.
Let's test it, with someone you might have met ... seems like a regular guy, pretty fit, into exercise. Call him, say, Bob, and let's listen in on one of those imaginary conversations, monologues he's having with himself, maybe in front of that mirror in the gym -- imaginary monologues the way someone might have, that don't have to make sense -- they are, after all, imaginary.
Goodness. That took a turn. Bob turned out to be something of an existential poet. Surprising. And it seems there's more to fitness than appearance. Fitness isn't just a physical thing. The only reason there are mirrors in the world is so we might see ourselves as others see us. Other people matter, always, to everyone. The point? Well, let's be kind, and patient, and let's have empathy and sensitivity. We never know what hell hides behind a bland expression or a pleasant smile, or a somewhat unrealistic ego.
What does this have to do with fitness, with exercise? Balance. Bob's abs didn't bring him the fulfillment he had hoped. Do they matter? Uh, well, yeah, we'd have to suppose so. Without them, he'd be even more wretched.
Fitness is about sensible diet and sensible exercise. It's not about preaching, but we do have to find a balance. To strive to reach our genetic potential is laudable, but we understand that life, to be fulfilling, must be well-rounded. So the physical stuff matters. Call it one among equals. As for Bob, and the silent and unseen desolation of his soul, we trust that he can find peace, and that he will find comfort. What he really wants is for someone to love him, regardless of his abs.
But if you'd like abs just like Bob's, well, zowie! Give us a call!!! Cuz we do abs!!! Zowie!!!!!! FitWorks!!!!
:-)
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
Let's test it, with someone you might have met ... seems like a regular guy, pretty fit, into exercise. Call him, say, Bob, and let's listen in on one of those imaginary conversations, monologues he's having with himself, maybe in front of that mirror in the gym -- imaginary monologues the way someone might have, that don't have to make sense -- they are, after all, imaginary.
-----
What Bob Thinks
Man. Sort of tired. Worked out every day last week, sometimes twice, really blasting the abs. Man oh man are the chicks gonna dig me. Zowie! Even my flaws are beautiful. In the miraculous mosaic that is Bob, any minor distortions serve as subtle accents of my overall beauty.
Speaking of which -- my beauty, which I really don't dwell on anywhere near often enough -- I was considering my fabulous abs? It's really getting out of hand. Off the hook. How is it possible? Even as hard as I work at it, it seems impossible. I've got muscles that nobody even knows the name of.
Gorgeous.
Just stunning.
Really.
Mmmmm.
I've got that third cut, below the navel. Maybe it's the fourth, if you count the one above, on the ribs. And there are weird little muscles off to the side -- between the obliques, of which I have an absolutely hypnotic array. It's like I'm the human epitome of some Art Deco Adonis, all striations and angled plains. Breath-taking.
And then on my belly, below the abs, there are these other muscles. What do they even hook up to? What do they do? I don't know. Nobody does. Physiologists haven't even named them. I am unique. I'm like a masterpiece -- some sort of divine device crafted by God to show humanity what it might have been. Crafted from granite and bronze. I must be what Adam looked like.
Nietzsche said -- I memorized it, cuz it's about abs -- "The belly is the reason man does not mistake himself for a god." Well? Where does that leave me?
Sometimes as I'm walking I'll put my palm flat across my abs just to feel the rolling -- sinuous beneath my hand like rows of estivating snakes. Sometimes I'll rub my fingers over the cords lying beneath the leather of my belly, like a master guitarist strumming out a passionate gypsy tune that wails as longingly as a lost soul and stirs you with a yearning to live forever.
Sometimes my hands grow heavy and stiff, and drag on the ground behind me, bending my back curved as old mountains. Sometimes I stare through a haze of pain out of a face like a stone mask. Sometimes darkness leaks from my lungs and puddles at my feet and rises like surf into a sinking vessel, and words cannot contain the cold I would feel, if I could feel. Sometimes I fall into the hollowness that displaces my organs and the receding cavern of my skull expands away in every direction so fast that even vacuum hasn't time to fill it.
Sometimes God is so far away he can hardly see me, and I can't see him at all.
I know there are miracles. I know that somewhere in the boundless universe there is a flawless mosaic of unspeakable beauty. I know that somewhere there is a balm that will soothe every ache, and a hand that will wipe away every tear, and that the wretchedness that suffuses some man's heart need not last forever. Somewhere weariness will end in fulfillment, and darkness will represent a time of peace and satisfaction. Someday I will settle into ease and happiness, the way a mountain slides into the sea.
-----
Goodness. That took a turn. Bob turned out to be something of an existential poet. Surprising. And it seems there's more to fitness than appearance. Fitness isn't just a physical thing. The only reason there are mirrors in the world is so we might see ourselves as others see us. Other people matter, always, to everyone. The point? Well, let's be kind, and patient, and let's have empathy and sensitivity. We never know what hell hides behind a bland expression or a pleasant smile, or a somewhat unrealistic ego.
What does this have to do with fitness, with exercise? Balance. Bob's abs didn't bring him the fulfillment he had hoped. Do they matter? Uh, well, yeah, we'd have to suppose so. Without them, he'd be even more wretched.
Fitness is about sensible diet and sensible exercise. It's not about preaching, but we do have to find a balance. To strive to reach our genetic potential is laudable, but we understand that life, to be fulfilling, must be well-rounded. So the physical stuff matters. Call it one among equals. As for Bob, and the silent and unseen desolation of his soul, we trust that he can find peace, and that he will find comfort. What he really wants is for someone to love him, regardless of his abs.
But if you'd like abs just like Bob's, well, zowie! Give us a call!!! Cuz we do abs!!! Zowie!!!!!! FitWorks!!!!
:-)
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
Blink
Monsieur le Docteur Joseph-Ignace Guillotin did not invent that instrument which bears his name. Such devices had been in use in Europe for two centuries. But the times being what they were, in the heady days of the French Revolution, some such mechanized expedient was called for. Or perhaps the contraption's excellence cried out for use -- a better mousetrap and all that.
There would be much to recommend such a device. Avoid a reprise of the Mary, Queen of Scots debacle, whose neck took three great whacks and still she didn't lose her head -- the discomfited headsman had to saw through the last bits of integument with his hip knife before the job was quite done. How embarrassing for him. During the interim between the first and the second chops, the poor former queen loosed such a wrenching and protracted groan that the crowd, usually intoxicated in such festive circumstances with blood lust, gaped in horrified silence. So, then -- live and learn, eh?
But what about these heads? Does consciousness survive for some brief moments within the disembodied -- or would it be disbodied -- head? Anecdotal evidence abounds. The heads of two rival French functionaries of the National Assembly were placed into a sack -- when later removed, one had bitten into the cheek of the other so deeply it could not be pried off. The executioner of Charlotte Corday -- who murdered Jean-Paul Marat -- held up her severed head and slapped its cheek; witnesses claimed the face blushed and looked indignant. A soldier who witnessed the decapitation of a friend in a 1989 auto accident relates how the head opened and closed its mouth several times, taking on an expression of shock or confusion, then of terror or grief; its eyes moved from the soldier, to its separated body, then back to the soldier -- direct eye contact, then hazy, then absent and dead.
Which brings to mind the report of Dr. Beaurieux, who, staid man of science that he was, resolved one early summer morning in 1905 to settle once and for all the question of whether a severed head retains for any appreciable time some measure of consciousness, and if so, for how long.
Observe, then, condemned murderer Henri Languille, who mounts with notable sangfroid the scaffold to kneel beneath the blade. Next, consider his severed head, which fortuitously lands stump-down on the neck, thus perfectly oriented for observation. The doctor notes the eyelids working in irregular contractions for five seconds or so, then they are still and half-closed, the face relaxed. The doctor calls out sharply, "Languille!" The eyelids lift slowly and smoothly, as an awakening, and the eyes focus very definitely upon the doctor's -- clearly, undeniably living. A pause of several seconds, and then the eyes close again. One might almost hear a sigh. Again the doctor cries out, "Languille!" -- and again, smoothly, slowly, the eyelids lift and the eyes fix on the doctor's, with perhaps even more intelligence than the first time. Then a drooping of lids, a fading, a third calling of the name, Languille! but there is no response, and the glint of intelligence is glazed, empty, gone. Thirty seconds have passed.
The issue is murky, though. No fewer than three physicians attended the 1879 beheading of one Theotime Prunier, amenable to their end if not his own. The triumverate of medicos immediately snatched up the head and shouted in the face, stuck it with pins, placed ammonia under the nose and candle flames in the eyeballs. No response but a look of astonishment on Prunier's visage, which need have no special significance -- slack jaw and gawking eyes would be expected.
All of it need mean nothing. Two severed heads in a bag need not have been snarling and snapping at each other; one might have been placed sometime after the other, but immediately after its own severing -- and the bite a mere spasmodic reflex. A severed head's cheek might well blush, because blushing is certainly dependent upon capillary blood, but not necessarily upon vascular bloodflow: slaps cause redness. Expressions of shock or of horror are instinctive and universal to the human condition -- perhaps they have no more meaning than the galvanic twitching of frog legs. Eyes widen at a loud sound -- as it happens in this case, the loud calling of a name. Yes. It may all be true, and at the same time meaningless.
The very idea is absurd, that a severed head should be alive. It takes eight seconds to choke a man into unconsciousness -- as any practitioner of the more subtle martial arts will know. A severed head can have no blood pressure whatsoever, so one might think that unconsciousness, if not death, must be instantaneous.
But upon deeper reflection, the oxygen that is present, remains present -- it doesn't just remove itself along with the body. Capillaries do not drain themselves in a great Niagara of gore. So we might expect something like eight seconds of consciousness. Further, what effect does having one's entire body mass instantly reduced to some 10 pounds have on the metabolic rate of oxygen usage? Perhaps when the brain doesn't have to think about running the body, it uses less oxygen. And it may be that the concept of consciousness and unconsciousness -- lucidity and dreaming -- takes on an almost incomprehensible meaning, upon the shocking loss of one's bodily appendage. We know the spirit lingers -- heart stoppage isn't death, anymore.
Ah well. It's all speculation. That is, the speculation is speculation. The observations are what they are: phenomena translated into neural impulses within the brain, to manifest eventually as expressions of opinion.
So? Is there a point to such discursive considerations, showing up here in this particular forum dedicated as it is to health and fitness? There is a social relevance of course, relating to current events and various civilizations past and present that did or do practice beheading as a form of cultural expression. There are ethical considerations regarding the nature of life -- its legal definition as it applies to important issues of the day. It could be taken as a metaphor for loss and mourning. We could try to blame God or the universe or randomness for it all. It could just be a sort of chatting, a kind of sharing of the odd things that collect in our respective brains. Because we do have voices. We can communicate with each other, in complex ways, with more than just blinking. So that we can know for sure that we're alive.
And while all of that can no doubt be made to be the truth, the truth here is that the body is a complex and astounding thing -- a machine that is intelligent or a vessel by which spirit may act. Who knows. We know it is astounding, though. It may be that we actually can live for a very brief time, physically yet without an actual, technical body. How very odd.
We can only surmise the truth. But while we may concern ourselves with oddities and theories, the one incontestable fact, pace Descartes, is that we are, therefore we think. We know that we are because we take up space in time. You know, with a body. So. There's more to life than bodies. But bodies are, uh, how shall we say ... important? Let us not be afraid of obvious truths.
So, one last, obvious and repeatable truth. We stay healthy, as much as is in our control, by sensible exercise and sensible diet. Training, for health and appearance and something deeper ... zest? -- joy? Whatever it is that comes when you turn back the clock, repulse the tides of decay that would otherwise sweep you away.
Because reclaimed health is a sort of redemption, and that's good for the spirit. That's not a promise. You knew it already. And with or without help, you know perfectly well that it's something that must be done. Otherwise, well, you're just a snapping head associated somehow with a bag. And that's no way to live.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
There would be much to recommend such a device. Avoid a reprise of the Mary, Queen of Scots debacle, whose neck took three great whacks and still she didn't lose her head -- the discomfited headsman had to saw through the last bits of integument with his hip knife before the job was quite done. How embarrassing for him. During the interim between the first and the second chops, the poor former queen loosed such a wrenching and protracted groan that the crowd, usually intoxicated in such festive circumstances with blood lust, gaped in horrified silence. So, then -- live and learn, eh?
But what about these heads? Does consciousness survive for some brief moments within the disembodied -- or would it be disbodied -- head? Anecdotal evidence abounds. The heads of two rival French functionaries of the National Assembly were placed into a sack -- when later removed, one had bitten into the cheek of the other so deeply it could not be pried off. The executioner of Charlotte Corday -- who murdered Jean-Paul Marat -- held up her severed head and slapped its cheek; witnesses claimed the face blushed and looked indignant. A soldier who witnessed the decapitation of a friend in a 1989 auto accident relates how the head opened and closed its mouth several times, taking on an expression of shock or confusion, then of terror or grief; its eyes moved from the soldier, to its separated body, then back to the soldier -- direct eye contact, then hazy, then absent and dead.
Which brings to mind the report of Dr. Beaurieux, who, staid man of science that he was, resolved one early summer morning in 1905 to settle once and for all the question of whether a severed head retains for any appreciable time some measure of consciousness, and if so, for how long.
Observe, then, condemned murderer Henri Languille, who mounts with notable sangfroid the scaffold to kneel beneath the blade. Next, consider his severed head, which fortuitously lands stump-down on the neck, thus perfectly oriented for observation. The doctor notes the eyelids working in irregular contractions for five seconds or so, then they are still and half-closed, the face relaxed. The doctor calls out sharply, "Languille!" The eyelids lift slowly and smoothly, as an awakening, and the eyes focus very definitely upon the doctor's -- clearly, undeniably living. A pause of several seconds, and then the eyes close again. One might almost hear a sigh. Again the doctor cries out, "Languille!" -- and again, smoothly, slowly, the eyelids lift and the eyes fix on the doctor's, with perhaps even more intelligence than the first time. Then a drooping of lids, a fading, a third calling of the name, Languille! but there is no response, and the glint of intelligence is glazed, empty, gone. Thirty seconds have passed.
The issue is murky, though. No fewer than three physicians attended the 1879 beheading of one Theotime Prunier, amenable to their end if not his own. The triumverate of medicos immediately snatched up the head and shouted in the face, stuck it with pins, placed ammonia under the nose and candle flames in the eyeballs. No response but a look of astonishment on Prunier's visage, which need have no special significance -- slack jaw and gawking eyes would be expected.
All of it need mean nothing. Two severed heads in a bag need not have been snarling and snapping at each other; one might have been placed sometime after the other, but immediately after its own severing -- and the bite a mere spasmodic reflex. A severed head's cheek might well blush, because blushing is certainly dependent upon capillary blood, but not necessarily upon vascular bloodflow: slaps cause redness. Expressions of shock or of horror are instinctive and universal to the human condition -- perhaps they have no more meaning than the galvanic twitching of frog legs. Eyes widen at a loud sound -- as it happens in this case, the loud calling of a name. Yes. It may all be true, and at the same time meaningless.
The very idea is absurd, that a severed head should be alive. It takes eight seconds to choke a man into unconsciousness -- as any practitioner of the more subtle martial arts will know. A severed head can have no blood pressure whatsoever, so one might think that unconsciousness, if not death, must be instantaneous.
But upon deeper reflection, the oxygen that is present, remains present -- it doesn't just remove itself along with the body. Capillaries do not drain themselves in a great Niagara of gore. So we might expect something like eight seconds of consciousness. Further, what effect does having one's entire body mass instantly reduced to some 10 pounds have on the metabolic rate of oxygen usage? Perhaps when the brain doesn't have to think about running the body, it uses less oxygen. And it may be that the concept of consciousness and unconsciousness -- lucidity and dreaming -- takes on an almost incomprehensible meaning, upon the shocking loss of one's bodily appendage. We know the spirit lingers -- heart stoppage isn't death, anymore.
Ah well. It's all speculation. That is, the speculation is speculation. The observations are what they are: phenomena translated into neural impulses within the brain, to manifest eventually as expressions of opinion.
So? Is there a point to such discursive considerations, showing up here in this particular forum dedicated as it is to health and fitness? There is a social relevance of course, relating to current events and various civilizations past and present that did or do practice beheading as a form of cultural expression. There are ethical considerations regarding the nature of life -- its legal definition as it applies to important issues of the day. It could be taken as a metaphor for loss and mourning. We could try to blame God or the universe or randomness for it all. It could just be a sort of chatting, a kind of sharing of the odd things that collect in our respective brains. Because we do have voices. We can communicate with each other, in complex ways, with more than just blinking. So that we can know for sure that we're alive.
And while all of that can no doubt be made to be the truth, the truth here is that the body is a complex and astounding thing -- a machine that is intelligent or a vessel by which spirit may act. Who knows. We know it is astounding, though. It may be that we actually can live for a very brief time, physically yet without an actual, technical body. How very odd.
We can only surmise the truth. But while we may concern ourselves with oddities and theories, the one incontestable fact, pace Descartes, is that we are, therefore we think. We know that we are because we take up space in time. You know, with a body. So. There's more to life than bodies. But bodies are, uh, how shall we say ... important? Let us not be afraid of obvious truths.
So, one last, obvious and repeatable truth. We stay healthy, as much as is in our control, by sensible exercise and sensible diet. Training, for health and appearance and something deeper ... zest? -- joy? Whatever it is that comes when you turn back the clock, repulse the tides of decay that would otherwise sweep you away.
Because reclaimed health is a sort of redemption, and that's good for the spirit. That's not a promise. You knew it already. And with or without help, you know perfectly well that it's something that must be done. Otherwise, well, you're just a snapping head associated somehow with a bag. And that's no way to live.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
Time's Arrow
It is not possible to reach back through the years and take hold of the child we once were, distraught over a skinned knee or a broken toy or an absent loved one. We cannot project the wisdom that the ensuing years have taught, to help those little ones find a solid place to stand, in the uncertain or empty world they sometimes perceived around them. There is no reaching back. The arrow of time points forward.
There is a sort of time travel we can do, though. We can't rewrite the past, but we write the future, and we do so with mutterings and glances and nudges, subtle things that we don't even notice, mere puffings, but great winds to the children of the next generation, with which we send them this way or that, like toy ships in a pond. So it is. They unmoor themselves and drift away, and it is on us to stand in a firm place with a rope, to draw them back if they will have it.
For ponds overflow their banks and join the sea, and someone must be vigilant or the wild winds may rise and tear the still waters into chaos. The oceans are thick with the bodies of those who have been swept away by some wayward wave -- lost, unnoticed until too late, and no circling as an afterthought will wrest tragedy back from the implacable black waters. That's why it's so important to be observant. It reminds us of the importance of compassion.
Well? It's that way with all of us, if we look deep enough. Inside these adult bodies are babies and children and adolescents. They don't leave us, they just step into the shadows. With teenagers, we show them our love by respecting their loneliness, and listening to them when they've had enough of it. There has to be someone there, to listen. The night needs to have somewhere in it a sheltered dry place with a bright warm fire, where sad and funny stories affirm the bond between past and future, and where silence falls because everything that should be said, has been. And with the smaller ones, the calm presence of adults is what the world is, when it's a good world. And with ourselves, we must have equal measures of the stern and the merry.
All this is a metaphor of course. It's fine to be kind to others. It's not fine to be selfish within ourselves. But we too must be nurtured, both by the alchemical presence of others, and by ourselves, to ourselves. Just as we hear the nastiness in the phony excuse, "But I'm even harder on myself" -- we must be wise enough to be gentle with others and with ourselves as well. It's a fine balance, between responsibility and self-indulgence. But that's what wisdom is -- like justice, it's a fine balance.
We have to take care of ourselves, and that doesn't mean being a slave to appetite. Sensible exercise, sensible diet. If we neglect these most basic of hygienes, shall we be surprised that something festers? Aches and obesity and exhaustion are not the natural state of a properly functioning body. Decay should occur only after one's demise.
The good news is that, while Time's Arrow flies only in one direction, we ourselves are boomerangs. We can change our course. Change your habits and you change your destiny. No, it's not utterly simple, but it's simple.
We are indeed time travelers. We are God's archers. We are castaways who put poems in bottles with the assurance that the one for whom they were meant will find them. Right now, that must be you. We walk our separate beaches, washed ashore, or pulled in by a long rope as the case may be, and we are divided by time and some unknown distance, but we share the same sun, the same tides, and the same desire for fellowship, however indirect. This is how we know that we are all children. The sand between our toes reminds us of it. And we are time travelers.
Let us then take pleasure from each other. Let us comfort each other. Let's play and laugh and be foolish until we are giddy with sunlight and birdsong, and the water and the trees are both so full of light that we can't tell one from the other. Then we'll come home, and fall asleep sprawled on blankets on the floor, and if we dream, we will laugh in our sleep.
You see? Reality is both what it is, and what we think it is. And mostly what we think is thought through the filter of our emotions. What we do is a choice. What we feel is a choice as well, because it depends so much on what we do. Power? We are the lords of that vast universe within our minds. It may be fantasy. We make it real, insofar as it can be, by our actions.
How fine a thing, to change your lifestyle in the most direct ways possible. Changing the very composition of your flesh, from fat to muscle, by how you exercise and what you eat, and after that, by how you feel. No one else can do it for you. We come alongside, and offer whatever help you can use. But you do it. We just help. It's not about big promises. It's about little ones that are kept.
Be excellent.
Here: CrossFitBurbank.com
FW
CrossFit Burbank
There is a sort of time travel we can do, though. We can't rewrite the past, but we write the future, and we do so with mutterings and glances and nudges, subtle things that we don't even notice, mere puffings, but great winds to the children of the next generation, with which we send them this way or that, like toy ships in a pond. So it is. They unmoor themselves and drift away, and it is on us to stand in a firm place with a rope, to draw them back if they will have it.
For ponds overflow their banks and join the sea, and someone must be vigilant or the wild winds may rise and tear the still waters into chaos. The oceans are thick with the bodies of those who have been swept away by some wayward wave -- lost, unnoticed until too late, and no circling as an afterthought will wrest tragedy back from the implacable black waters. That's why it's so important to be observant. It reminds us of the importance of compassion.
Well? It's that way with all of us, if we look deep enough. Inside these adult bodies are babies and children and adolescents. They don't leave us, they just step into the shadows. With teenagers, we show them our love by respecting their loneliness, and listening to them when they've had enough of it. There has to be someone there, to listen. The night needs to have somewhere in it a sheltered dry place with a bright warm fire, where sad and funny stories affirm the bond between past and future, and where silence falls because everything that should be said, has been. And with the smaller ones, the calm presence of adults is what the world is, when it's a good world. And with ourselves, we must have equal measures of the stern and the merry.
All this is a metaphor of course. It's fine to be kind to others. It's not fine to be selfish within ourselves. But we too must be nurtured, both by the alchemical presence of others, and by ourselves, to ourselves. Just as we hear the nastiness in the phony excuse, "But I'm even harder on myself" -- we must be wise enough to be gentle with others and with ourselves as well. It's a fine balance, between responsibility and self-indulgence. But that's what wisdom is -- like justice, it's a fine balance.
We have to take care of ourselves, and that doesn't mean being a slave to appetite. Sensible exercise, sensible diet. If we neglect these most basic of hygienes, shall we be surprised that something festers? Aches and obesity and exhaustion are not the natural state of a properly functioning body. Decay should occur only after one's demise.
The good news is that, while Time's Arrow flies only in one direction, we ourselves are boomerangs. We can change our course. Change your habits and you change your destiny. No, it's not utterly simple, but it's simple.
We are indeed time travelers. We are God's archers. We are castaways who put poems in bottles with the assurance that the one for whom they were meant will find them. Right now, that must be you. We walk our separate beaches, washed ashore, or pulled in by a long rope as the case may be, and we are divided by time and some unknown distance, but we share the same sun, the same tides, and the same desire for fellowship, however indirect. This is how we know that we are all children. The sand between our toes reminds us of it. And we are time travelers.
Let us then take pleasure from each other. Let us comfort each other. Let's play and laugh and be foolish until we are giddy with sunlight and birdsong, and the water and the trees are both so full of light that we can't tell one from the other. Then we'll come home, and fall asleep sprawled on blankets on the floor, and if we dream, we will laugh in our sleep.
You see? Reality is both what it is, and what we think it is. And mostly what we think is thought through the filter of our emotions. What we do is a choice. What we feel is a choice as well, because it depends so much on what we do. Power? We are the lords of that vast universe within our minds. It may be fantasy. We make it real, insofar as it can be, by our actions.
How fine a thing, to change your lifestyle in the most direct ways possible. Changing the very composition of your flesh, from fat to muscle, by how you exercise and what you eat, and after that, by how you feel. No one else can do it for you. We come alongside, and offer whatever help you can use. But you do it. We just help. It's not about big promises. It's about little ones that are kept.
Be excellent.
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