In the Midst

There are very few times I get to focus all of my mind on one thing.  Typically I'm going several directions at once, and have had to learn how to funnel this properly so as to avoid mental fatigue.  I read a lot.  Every day.  And one reason I read is because by being in the midst of several stories, it helps me funnel some mental energy.  Some stays with this book, some stays with that.  

For the past few years, eight to be specific, I've had non-fiction and fiction both going on.  The non-fiction is typically religious.  I like religious thought and philosophy, especially takes on ancient life and how they live.  This reading is typically Christian, but I also very much respect the passions and routines of Islam.  Devoting yourself to God, thereby acknowledging you are not the center of the universe five times per day is pretty amazing.  I also really like the phrase "there is no God but God".  But, I digress.  A typical theme of thought is that one cannot move on to something more, until one becomes comfortable in and with their own surroundings.  In the midst of where they are today, right now.  This sentiment is on my mind a lot.  It speaks to me.  

Through the years, I've picked up a thread that people should be future minded, thinking about the next step, plotting for the next thing, which sort of overlooks the right now.  Misses that mark.  But the future, which will happen regardless, won't be any different from the present without steps being taken in the here-and-now to move us forward on a path.  To get us there.  The Future isn't some great mystical thing, it's a present that is yet to come.  One that will be here and will be either the same as now or different as now, dependent upon the actions of the present.  

Those actions can be better or worse dependent upon how I live and what I think, which is much better if it comes from a place of balance and calm.  Much better.  And the calm means I handle much present circumstances with grace, with honor, and take them as they are.  Right now.  In the midst of things as they are.  

What Kind of Life?

In church yesterday, my pastor pointed to a section in the gospel of John.  He pointed out something from this section, namely that Jesus' first words were a question.  Jesus turns to two people following him and says, "What do you want?"  

These two, following Jesus looking for a better way, are asked by Jesus, "What do you want?"

This was used in the sermon as a question: does following Jesus mean that we get what we want?  Do our matters, desires, and urges matter when it comes go Jesus, to God.  Is the creator of all things concerned about what we want?  And if so, what do we want?  

If God is concerned, this could really, really matter.  

More than concerned about the truth or answer to any of the above, I'm more concerned about the question: what do I want?  This is a question that I rarely allow myself to answer.  It's something I don't really think about.  I more or less follow the flow and allow other's desires to take over mine.  I'm much better at adapting than I am to leading the way.  

This has benefit, but it also has problems.  You can find yourself less than a month away from turning 35 - which sounds fucking old - and not know what you really want out of your life.  Or, if you're honest about it, you may see that you're not taking active steps to making those things happen.  

So then, what do you do?

For me, this year, that question really matters.  I've cared about it, but now I really care because something does change after you turn 30.  You see the bigger picture.  The desires of youth dissipate into the reality of what you're doing.  The abstract becomes practical.  You won't live in central America and learn Spanish if you don't buy a plane ticket and practice the dialect.  You're not going to be 'found' and promoted into some major position, unless you make it happen.  You don't have the luxury of floating around, going from job to job, you do something and call it a career.  

You're also more tired.  If you drink too much, you're hung over longer; if you stay up late and are on go-mode for a while, your body feels it.  It becomes laughably easy to put on weight, and a process to take it off.  And you have to make a lot more plans.  

I have a much easier time with some of this than I do with others.  Some of these things are hard.  Like when you find yourself in a position where you know you need to make changes, but it means you have to put in the time and effort to make them happen.  You realize that time and effort are finite, and you must therefore redirect your actions.  

Which brings me to the question: What kind of life?  Do my desires matter to God, and if they do, how do I make them matter more to me?  

The School Year

I will begin with a confession: I am not the world's best teacher. 

It's true.  I know it.  My students know it.  And I'm fine with it.  

I am, however, in the top half.  Any school I've at - seven at this writing - if you were to line ten teachers up, I'd probably be 6 or 7 in the line.  And I'd place a fair wager that the staff and students of that school would agree.   I go to games, get along with people, am competent, knowledgeable in my field, and like people enough that the basic skills of a teacher (communicating a body of knowledge to any group of people) come fairly naturally.  I also like people, especially high school aged people, and I love books (except for shitty ones, like The Reluctant Fundamentalist or A Long Way Gone).  I also love to write.  

I've been teaching for 12 years now, which is crazy to think and write.  I didn't really think of myself as a teacher until recently, and once I did, oddly, I've gotten worse at it.  I used to think of myself as a reader and writer that was teaching reading and writing, and planned on doing so until I could sell a novel.  Once I sold the novel, I figured I'd get to work in the writing world somehow, and I'd begin work on what would ultimately get my my honorary PHD.  

I've gotten more involved, earned a masters, taken leadership roles, began a writing club, coached sports, and then thought it would be a good idea to move to Grand Rapids, MI; since doing so, I realized I thought wrong.  

Most things here have not gone according to plan.  I'm at my third school in three years.  Teaching the third different grade in three years, learning the third different system, which is really hard.  

I'm not usually a complainer.  Typically, I'd rather do than complain, but that's waning as well, so I want to write about the year, and my experiences, because they deserve to be heard. 

They deserve to be heard because everyday over a hundred different kids sit in my classroom, a hundred different kids that are being badly treated by a bad system where people with talents and desires can't thrive.  Where the days are struggles and the faces are beaten down.  Where kids sit bored and teachers lose passion.  Where a few at the top have 'cush' jobs and make decisions that they pass to other people to tell other people so that other people can do them.  

It doesn't work.  

And I won't accept that.  

The System

It is very hard for me to be a part of a system that so obviously doesn't work.  When the system is broken but acknowledged, I can handle it.  The admission makes the horizon promising, but when The System is hailed above all else, I have a problem.  When pieces are put in place just to have pieces: I have a problem.  

This has probably always been the case on some level, but the more I know - about the system and myself - the worse it is.  

I took a class last year that devoted a third of the concept to self reflection/understanding.  It included long bouts of thinking about instances that inspired anger and annoyance; it included tests of general aptitude, and I was especially apt at conceptual thinking.  The best example of this would be Quantum Physics.  As far as a science, there is almost nothing I could explain and/or prove.  If I were to even speak of it, my words could all be in error; yet when listening or thinking about the ramifications of the science, how it plays out, what it does/could mean, I'm there.  Things like: twin particles, matter being ever existing and traveling, an expanding universe and the like are all examples of things that, to me, get to a general life force that has spiritual ramifications deeper than (perhaps) any to date.  But I couldn't explain why; I just get it.  

Why this is important is that when someone explains something, though the particulars don't separate into facts and factoids, the overall message makes sense to me.  How to get it to happen, conceptually, makes sense to me.  Another skill of mine is encouraging people, and empowering them to believe in themselves.  These things, together, can help be a change.  

Being a change, or doing what I can has been something that I've tried to do over the years, and it's been very important to who I am and want to be.  Lately, though, it's hit an impasse.  What I can do has grown in scope, while my daily power to do anything about it has shrunk.  

Which leaves me drained.  Unable to do what I'm best at.  Which isn't a good trajectory.  

Rather than fixing the system, I'm becoming a part of the system; unwillingly, but I'm sure that's how it starts.  I don't want to be jaded.  I don't want to be bad.  I don't want to have a negative impact.  

I'll provide more explanation later, but the biggest problem of my particular system (the school system) is that we have way too many people on the top.  Too many positions of power.  On paper, these positions impact the students, but in reality, they cause hoops to be jumped through, so that they have something to do, and secretaries to fill their schedules, to dole out work, to create a trail, to prove their worth.  

But worth that's created for it's own sake is just waste.  

 

The Body, pt. III (my body)

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On this 22nd day of September, I'm about a month into the South Beach Diet.  In the first two body posts, I mentioned how great the body is and how I've taken mine more or less for granted.  I hit my lowest point when I was trying on clothes for a dream job interview, and nothing fit.  Buttons wouldn't cross, and my clothes were humorously ill-fitting.  My lovely girlfriend was helping me select clothes, and she witnessed my mood fluctuate from (semi)excited to frustrated, throwing clothes that used to be staples into the 'give away' pile.  Though we finally found something that fit, we vowed to make some changes.  Hence: The South Beach Diet.

The South Beach Diet works.  I've done it before, and if you stick to it, you will lose pounds.  The reason I like it and used it, is that it's forced me to think about what I eat and then seeing how it effects me.  The diet's comprised of three phases - phase I, Phase II, and Phase III.  As the phase increases, the strictness decreases.  

Phase I is strict.  You basically can't have sugar or carbs.  So any breads, fruits, or sweets are out.  It's hard to follow, but you can feel your body using it's natural supply of fat, and you see quick results.  I lost 10-lbs on this phase, and feel way better.  

Phase II is when you begin re-entering carbs into yoru diet.  First week, one carb p/day, second week, 2 carbs, ect.  Most people lose between 1-2lbs p/week in this phase.  And this is where I'm at.  

During the first phase, I decided to weigh myself everyday.  The motivation helped.  It also kept me accountable.  I have a google doc that has my weights on it, and I can see the loss.  Now, on the second phase, I'm weighing myself on Monday and Friday mornings; I wanna see how my weekend habits v. my weekday habits affect my weight.  I'm also making sure to put my gym clothes in car so that when I have extra time, I can make sure to work out.  I've also shifted what I consider a work out.  

It used to be that I'd really only count a run as a workout.  Running is a great thing for me, but if I only count running, I miss out on other forms of exercise and it becomes so obligatory that it stops working.  Plus, my legs, knees, and back started hurting.  I'm now thinking about working out as getting the heart rate up, and working on the core.  It's meant some fast-walking and cycling.  I feel better.  

The other big change I've made, which is where I think I've typically gained weight, is how I've been doing my lunches.  For years, I've brought a sandwich, chips, and an apple for lunch; if i didn't bring it, I'd go out and buy something like this.  The result was a net lose of $12, and weight gain.  (I have a job where I'm sitting a lot, or can be stationary.  I'm also using my mind more than my body, so I'll be mentally drained, forgo exercise, and loaded with food).  So I've been bringing South Beach style lunches: meat and cheese, tuna sans bread, and then having an afternoon snack of nuts.  It works.  I'm hungry for dinner, but not sluggish during the day.  I've been adding a cup of coffee, and finding that it works.  

I began the diet, officially, at 230.8 lbs.  Today, I stood on the scale at 217.0.  13.8 lbs in a month.  I'll take it.  

And I do feel better.  

The Body, pt. II

If I'm honest about it, I'm quite blessed with the body I've been given.  I'm been blessed with strength, health, and looks.  I'm thankful for my body, but seem to abuse it too often.  Rather than thinking about it properly, I often allow it to be the thing that carries me, mistreating it like a vehicle, rather than treating it like the sacred thing I truly believe it is.  

One way I've been blessed is that when I put on weight, it doesn't look that bad.  It goes to my stomach in the way that makes it solid.  I look heftier, certainly, when I gain weight, but I'm lucky in the sense that it doesn't turn to flab.  

This year, I've gained weight.  Anywhere from 20-30lbs, depending when you count 'year' and where I was actually at before.  Of that 20-30, 15 have been recent - since May - and are of the most concern.  I had a tough spring and summer, professionally.  Returning home from Spring Break, I found a letter that said I had to find a new job within the Grand Rapids Public Schools.  I wasn't notified as to why that was, and never received an adequate explanation.  It was shocking because I had (arguably) one of my personal best years in the classroom.  There was a high level of rigor, I incorporated technology in ways that are ahead of the curve, and my students displayed this by raising their test scores by an average of 3.1 pts.  This was amid a school that had no administrative support, no discipline, and the most entitled students I've ever encountered.  

It was my second year in the Grand Rapids Public Schools, 11th year teaching, and on my end I vowed to take this position honestly.  If there were flaws, I'd point them out; if something didn't work, I'd go down the proper channel to get it fixed.  These things I did.  It has worked as far as earning esteem from colleagues, but hasn't seemed to go my direction, thus far, professionally.  So to have these gains, work hard and be consistent, and then be let go with no explanation was a real blow.  My body felt it.  My back started to hurt.  My legs tensed up and ached.  I'd experience shooting pains down my legs and couldn't really sleep.  

Many nights, I'd go to bed feeling drained, only to jolt awake just as sleep was on the horizon.  This would happen over and over until I'd finally get up, watch tv and maybe have a glass of wine, until I could finally get there.  It exhausted me.  It made it harder to function on many levels.  Harder to exercise.  Harder to be enthused in general activities, and made it much, much easier to watch tv and eat comfort foods.   

I watched a lot of good tv.  Ate a lot of comforting food.  This resulted in a 15 lb weight expanse that seemed overnight.  I didn't notice that much, until I put on some of my 'teaching clothes' to go to an interview and I couldn't button the pants.  I tried to put on a suit coat that previously closed with ease, and it made me look Chris Farleyish.  

If I'm honest about it, what really changed was my pattern.  I gave into the laziness, rather than overcoming the fatigue.  I allowed my circumstances to anger me, and gave into that anger, rather than using it as righteous fuel.  None of these things added to my general happiness, and my general mood was lower during this time.  

I vow to change it.

Now, my ideal weight is about 190lbs.  At this weight, I'm in great shape and feel good.  So I'm going to get there.  I stepped on the scale six days ago at 230.8.  So I got 40.8lbs to knock off; the process, however, has started.

This week, my girlfriend and I started the South Beach Diet.  We're currently on day 6, and I weighed myself at 224.6 today.  Not bad for a week.  We're also getting back to the exercise and healthy eating that went with the 190 weight.  

It's taking the power back.  

I'm focused on the goal of getting back there, and of being health.  As the g.f.'s mom says, "How you eat in your 20's and 30's determines how you live in your 40's and 50's."  To that end, comes change.  I will be:

  • Working out 5 days a week
  • Planning and cooking most meals
  • Living a more active life

I'll update every now and again.  

Cheers.  

Simplicity, pt. I

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A few years ago, I was given (by my sister Sarah, who is very awesome, but that is beside the point) a book called Freedom of Simplicity.  I began reading it twice, but put it down.  This is atypical for me, but I began the book again, determined to finish it.  

Things that I value include accepting your current position in life, facing the day with dignity, respecting yourself and your neighbor.  I believe in contentment.  

I put money aside for retirement, but something about our whole American paradigm of working, saving, and planning of retirement goes against some fundamental part of my belief.  It seems to go against the importance of now.  This goes with many other things I believe, like a job should not define a person.  We should not be entitled.  Gratitude is chief.  But there's something off putting to me about maxing out things for the future, while ignoring the here and now.  

Some context for the thoughts - I moved cities recently (nearly two years ago) for a job that I felt was the right move.  I moved to have more of an impact, to do more with the skills I have, to hopefully better the world.  This included longer hours and a major pay cut.  The move was lateral, expenses speaking, so the cut in pay effects spending, entertainment, and savings.  

There are a few ways it must effect these things.  But I think that - recently - I've been more of a complainer about the lost pay and current situation, than I have been someone who deals with, accepts the moment, and lives according to the values I profess to believe.  In some ways, I've been very vaginal in how I process the cuts, being overcome with lack, rather than being filled with thanks for what I have.  

Or, perhaps more accurately, I feel entitled to have, which puts me right in the camp of feeling that I hate most.  It's the opposite of gratitude.

The thing I want to do, as in: act with regularity, is being content with less, and being more thankful for that less.  It's become apparent to me that I need to alter my thoughts of contentment.  To think of what's in front of me, rather than what's next.  I need to alter my perspective of what possessions are and how to spend/use my money.  I know the paradigm is necessary on some levels.  

But I intend to switch some goals.  To have x amount to give, x amount to save, and to be content with the rest.  It's needed.  It's where I'm at, and I think the book - Freedom of Simplicity, will be an aid in that.  

The Body

The body is a wonderful thing.  It's something I take for granted a lot, too.  When it's healthy and intact, it's so easy to take the whole thing for granted.  To just assume that we have this thing that will work forever and feel good and be great.  But then we stub a toe.  Or get sick.  Or put on weight.  Or strain the back.  And then we realize how well it all works.  It's like the coolest toy of all time.  Feels good, feel emotions, carries us.  I'll be posting about the body.  I've kind of let mine go recently, and I'm in a fight to take it back, to help it run well.  

But right now, I'm feeling thankful for it.  

A View from Above

This past Friday, I flew to Seattle, WA to visit my brother.  The first leg of the journey was a quick connection from Grand Rapids, MI to Chicago.  It's basically an up and down, about forty miles to Lake Michigan, then south to Chicago: you actually get to Chicago before you left from GR.  

As the plane took off, I looked at the landscape, and could detect a design - an architecture - from plane.  Streets run N/S, E/W with periodic angles.  Shopping centers are circled by houses, and houses are huddled together for the (apparent) purpose of things like electricity, water, garbage removal.  People can say what they will about our great nation, but an undeniable fact is that we're well organized.  

But as I was taking this in, I noticed how similar each house in most neighborhood was.  They had the same basic plot of land, same basic design of a house.  And then I thought about the fact that many of these houses will be called "our house" by someone.  Each house will contain different people with different problems, presumably many of those problems taking the center of that house, that person, that life.  

When you get to the ground level, it's easy to get caught up in that.  From the ground - or certainly from the roof - a two story house seems big.  The lawn that needs weeding and mowings seems its own task.  The problem each individual has takes over their perspective and frame of mind.  It can cloud mood and judgment.  It can foul a day, month, relationship.  In so many of the houses, there must be people with problems with one another that say mean things and think mean thoughts and do things to hurt the other.  It seems so big.  

When viewed from the top, these problems are less than small.  That two story house seems like a mere prop on a set, a tiny piece of something much bigger.  The problems in that house seem so minute, when compared to the whole.

Some square mile pieces encompass the entire existence of some people.  They go to the same store, same bar, same place, day after day.  Their existence can be seen from the height of a plane.  

When viewed from above, those singular existences seem so small.  They are definitely not the center.  

They are a part, and there is something healthy in that.  

Applying the abstract type thoughts to real life, I'm going through a job search.  I moved to Grand Rapids from Chicago to have more of an impact as a teacher.  I've been in urban education for nine years, gotten (minimally) decent at it, and wanted to take my talents to my hometown.  This hasn't - at least according to my view - worked out.  In the two years I've been in GR, I've been at two different schools.  At the present, I'd laid off.  If I do get called back, I'll be at a third school.  Especially in urban communities where transience is the norm, new people have to earn trust and respect.  Until you've done that - which takes a minimum of two months - it's difficult to make an impact.  Students test you, admin views you with a cautious eye.  Once you've proved you're not going to leave at the first sign of conflict, then you can start making an impact.  But if you have to start over year after year, this gets draining, it can be hard.  

From the ground, it's a problem.  Jobs, and finding new ones, takes a lot of time and energy and can encompass much of the day.  While being unemployed, I've applied for over 30 jobs.  I've had minimal success in getting callbacks.  I was talking to my girlfriend about this right before I left, and we were discussing what could happen and what the options were.  When someone else makes the decisions about your career, your options are minimal; you don't have a whole lot of say.  

But what we do have a lot of say over is how we view that time and these issues.  From the ground, in the houses and buildings, the view may be taxing.  We may be drained and all consumed.  But from the top, in the over arching view, we will be fine.  Things will turn out, and all it takes is one phone call, one job offer, one person to give us a chance, that makes the difference between despair and jubilation.  

It's the view.  

Stepping back and thinking about the view from above, realizing we're only one small piece in a much larger puzzle, we're the part of a much larger grid, makes all the difference.  Then we can make that thing ours, knowing it's a piece, not the center.   

Lollapalooza

Today I get to head to see Kings of Leon at Lollapalooza.  Which is really, really awesome.  

The last time I saw them was in 2010, in Tinley Park, IL at an outdoor pavilion.  If I remember correctly, it rained at the end as they played 'Trani' and we were belting the lyrics along with the band, embracing the rain.  In my mind, the moment is magic.  

It's cool when you get to do something you love on a given day; such as: see Kings of Leon, you're favorite band.  Which, on this day, I get to do.

For the morning, J. Liddell and I are sitting on a patio, drinking coffee and doing bookish things like reading, writing, and talking about those things.  This comes after a night of enjoying the city.  We went to Tango Sur, a great BYOB Argentine Steakhouse in Chicago, and shared a Filet under the candlelight.  

While waiting for the table, we had a pre-dinner dessert at Sensational Bites.  We both lived in Chicago, her for twenty three years, me for seven.  (Win: Liddell).  Coming back here is always so awesome, and there's a palpable feeling that comes with the big city.  It's like you're always, or could be, right on the edge of things.  Something dangerous could happen right across the street.  Or anyone could walk by.  Or something could happen, and if it did happen, it could be right where you're at.  

I remember being twenty-four and walking around New York City feeling this thing.  People would casually check one another out because anyone could be someone important.  You could see the director of a show you wanted to be on, the writer of your favorite book, or the lead singer of your favorite band.  It gave walking the streets a hype.  And even if you didn't know the person, perhaps they were behind the scenes on something, working as an agent, an editor, marketer, you couldn't ignore them.  They could be someone.  

It's a cool feeling.  The closest it came for me was when I was reading The Rolling Stone magazine later.  It was an article about The Strokes, and they said Julian Casablancas lived in the same building as Ryan Adams.  Something was written about an interaction the two had, and it was mentioned that Ryan Adams would play and sing in the lobby of their building.  This was so crazy to me because I'd just seen Ryan Adams how they just described.  He lived in the building next to my friend.  Which meant that Julian Casablancas lived right next to my friend, and this was crazy to me.  On any given day, The Strokes could be hanging out next door to a good friend.  

It blew my mind.

The feeling added an awareness that was awesome, and it was good to feel that again.  It's a good energy.  

And, in a few hours, I get to see Kings of Leon.