Keep Homeschool Weird

Driving down county road 436, listening to solid country gold on a Saturday night, Donnie slams the remainder of his Banquet Beer and aims the golden nugget at an upcoming road sign. Per the norm, he misses high sending the can sailing into the overgrown ditch. Annual heavy rains and the occasional playful coyote move the aluminum vessel further down the sediment-carrying system that nature has designed. 

We lace our livelihood and subtle identities with consumerism. Admittedly, it has an attractive appeal.  Progress and productivity throughout the week drive consumption. Or perhaps we're driven and productive in order to consume. You could make an argument that our version of Sapien is wired this way and those characteristics have gotten us to this evolutionary successful point.

In my personal brand of outdoor pursuits, there is often a goal, endpoint or mission to accomplish. Hiking just to hike is still a hard pill to swallow. Fishing has the desire of fish, hunting holds the hopes of a full freezer and even physical labor on the farm comes with the finality and satisfaction of looking at your pile of productivity afterwards. This designed reward system is so innate, that it feels natural. If I do this activity, typically I will end up with this result. Makes sense.

As I stroll through a sullen grey winterized patch of woods made up of Oaks and Eastern Red Cedars, I question the pace which I'm walking. I certainly don't have an agenda for the day or time constraint, but my pre-programmed self, desires to find my piece of productivity. A shed antler from a deer, a morel mushroom or an arrowhead from an earlier denizen. 

In reality, I don't need that reward fix. The stillness and sounds of the dormant canopy, the ever-present rain of vitamin D and the endorphins from a strenuous hike should be enough to feed the soul for this outing. I settle on the fact there will be no physical trophy today to rest my laurels on. 

As I cross a creek on the walk back, still enabling my inner Indian Jones, I do come across a remnant from decades prior. The words are faded but I can still make out "Coors" on the shiny golden aluminum now beaten up from tributary travel. I pick it up, smile, and consider this generational housekeeping my productive keepsake of the day. Yep. 

Keep smilin'

JM

New in my life: Contemplating a new haircut. I've caught a trout where the Missouri River begins, plus I got hooked on rodeos back in the day and they’re hard to shake. Teddy Roosevelt had a house on Long Island. 

Calm versus Calamity

Looking to my left a TV shows the evergreen dramatics of worldly happenings. Looking to my right there is a southern hemispheric palm tree trying to maintain its stature in the prevailing winds. 

Risk-averse has always been a hard term for my prefrontal cortex to grasp. The term itself means to be hesitant to take on risk. Once you reach a certain age and income level, your tolerance for risk comes down to how big of an adult you want to be. The spectrum ranges from a coffee can buried in the backyard to starting your own business to jumping out of a plane. 

Meditation is a practice that in theory helps you to slow down in the present tense despite your external surroundings. I'm not here to preach on the benefits of the meditative habit, there are plenty of sensei pumping out that content. But to break it down on a molecular level, meditation helps you mentally perform in chaos and maintain an inner calm. 

There are all kinds of settings where this personal steadiness comes in handy. A few of my favorites include airports, crowded restaurants, and Walmart. 

In addition to these situational calamities, we humans are funny critters in the sense that we subject ourselves to and fester our own self-built turmoil. Some of said turmoil can be blamed on the relationships we sign up for but a fair amount of it is simply poor habitual exposure that we allow in our lives. 

There is a saying that exists that goes "The culture of an organization is shaped by the worst behavior a leader is willing to tolerate". So through the lens of maintaining an even keel and considering yourself a leader of your own world, what is the worst tolerated behavior you allow in your life? The social media and litany of dramatics from the news are good starting points. 

If I were to round this into a well-crafted PSA, just be mindful of your tolerance and strive towards being dramatic averse on the daily. Yep.

New in my life: Airports = Athleisure. Estou apredendo. Jupiter is a gaseous planet. It was pretty bright last week. 

Keep smilin'

JM

Silent but not Quiet

When I'm building odds and ends around my house there is always a moment when I have to determine how much I care about precision and aesthetics. While I claim to be a master of getting the job done, my attention to detail can be vanilla depending on the project. My focus is mostly dialed into the structure of the object versus the minutiae of how it appears. This personal oversight is on my self-help to-do list. 

I've started collecting leftover nails and screws that I randomly find in a mason jar in my garage. I'm confident the velcro shoes and Ensure come next. Despite this new geriatric habit, I do see the value of reusing versus tossing these nomadic construction accoutrements. This must be genetic as my father perfected this art as well over the past 3 decades of mine and his life. 

And here we are now with copious amounts of various rusted securements found from old fence posts, an extra screw that came with the new sofa, and hundreds of assorted items from rounds of various renovations. 

In a self-appointed, OCD determination, I've tasked myself to organize this nest of small metal connectors. Within this generational bundle of chaos, there is a good diversity of quality, size, and types of nails and screws. Some are rusted. Some are bent.  But a majority are still useful if they have maintained their structural integrity. As much as my minimalist soul despises the practice of hoarding, I do value the feeling of building something new with old parts. 

I spend a fair amount of time thinking about what I'll do once my muscles wear down and I'm confined to a small local radius. Perhaps this writing is simply a therapeutic exercise to put my mind at ease about what and how I will fill my time when not in my prime. 

At my mid-lifeish age, most days, I fight what I call "The Grump". It's the natural tendency to be agitated about seemingly normal happenings as we age. Examples you ask? People not using blinkers, dogs that bark too much, lawn mowers that don't start promptly, customer service phone lines that don't solve the problem, the weatherman being wrong, the seemingly lost next upcoming generation who won't get off my lawn.....you get the sentiment. 

The way that I narrow down what my ideal inner old man looks like is by reflecting on the older versions of humans that I revere and then trying to replicate the qualities of said human in myself. The common denominators of these observed admirable characteristics have been: asking more questions than speaking, open-mindedness, simple human kindness and patience to name a few. 

The more of #TheGrump I let creep into my day-to-day life, the further I get from that charasmatic old guy wearing camo crocs to his local cafe. My message to the hpothetical people reading this is that the decision to be an upstanding persona isn't made once you retire. It's a habitual practice every time you wake up and interact with fellow sapiens. Structural integrity is built over a lifetime of decisions. 

Similar to the rusty nails bound for my garage mason jar, the fact that you're continually aging shouldn't be an excuse to lessen your wholesomeness. As long as there is a healthy amount of structural integrity that has been acquired over the years, there should still be intrinsic value being broadcast to the folks around you.  Yep. 

New in my life: Online forums say it's only known for hogs and hunting but I feel like there's more to it. Apple cores aren't litter. This marks 101 for the hobby writer. My enneagram made me do it. 

Keep smilin'

JM

Forestry Chlorophyll Cleansing

Most weeks I have both sourdough bread starter and garden dirt stuck underneath my fingernails and those are a couple of reasons why I like waking up in the morning. 

When cooking, you can never have too many cutting boards. That's a personal opinion but I stand behind my statement. Another personal take is the calibur of the board chosen. I'm a wooden guy myself but I know other peasantry that prefer plastic or glass. 

You can tell a lot about a person and kitchen based on the condition of its board. I've seen some great-looking cutting surfaces made of top-notch wood fit for photography. My qualm with a lot of the picturesque potato cutting planks is that oftentimes they are all show and no experience.

There are a lot of expensive face lotions and inserted chemicals for the skin to prevent wrinkles. Pretty people get the attention and often make good-looking babies but the people that I find myself bellied up at a bar with, are more so the ones with a healthy amount of crow's feet around their eyes. 

When you're talking to fellow mates, it's generally better when there are interesting personality features to trampoline off of. Otherwise, you can find yourself watching the paint dry. Personality comes from experience, talent, values and/or skillset. 

On a weekly basis, when deciding how to spend your time, give some thought comparison between identity value add activities versus the alternative. Practically speaking, this often comes down to how many hours you're spending looking at a screen. Hobbies and skills aren't developed on the couch. 

Parallel to our sioux chef chopping platform, similar to the lack of marks your culinary cutting timber contains, the less overall persona flavor you can expect from a stagnant soul. Earn your stripes and stay interesting folks. Yep. 

New in my life: It ain't always the cowboy. Hank & Roy. Dan the Man. 

Keep smilin'

JM

Pulling People Down Doesn't Make you Taller

I try to maintain an inconsistent habit of running when I visit a new city. Typically it's early in the day and I don't necessarily enjoy the process of my shins screaming for a reprieve, but that feeling afterward is one helluva drug. 

When running on a public path and I encounter a fellow jogger approaching me, I'll at times hold up my forward-facing palm with the universal invitation for a high five as we cross paths. Sometimes I'm left hanging. Sometimes I'm not. 

I appreciate efficiency and technology and at this point and I support our evolution into robots as friends, not foe. In fact, these days I can complete most public purchases without the interaction of a fellow persona. Scan, swipe, rinse, repeat. 

Serotonin, dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin are a close-knit group of amigos that we all should attempt to befriend. There are lists and therapists with ideas on how to emit more of those chemicals. Some of the said ideas are easier than others but most are pretty simplistic. Vitamin D, unsolicited smiles and outdoor time are some low-hanging fruit for the soul. My action item for these biological drugs is simply remembering to keep on talking to people as we increase our non-communicative efficiencies. Just because you can purchase your candy bar without any assistance, doesn't give you sanction to bypass saying hello to another passerby. I'm considering making a tee shirt that says "I miss my cashier". 

Not a strong call to action here, just a reminder to look up from your intelligent and automated screen occasionally to talk to someone. Take out your headphones and acknowledge the front desk attendant as you leave the gym. Or at the least shoot them a platonic smile. Risky high five requests work too. We need more of that. Yep. 

New in my life: Flippant ambivalence festooned with a cornucopia of doubt. Contented collective effervescence is the goal. Chronically interested in figs and Jack Russells. Tudo bem.