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.

The Oak Sleeps in the Acorn

The grocery store I frequent requires a quarter for the use of their carts. I like the financial accountability it places on small convenient items we often take for granted. There should be a hefty premium along with your firstborn child for the use of plastic bags in my opinion. *Steps off soapbox*

With the grocery carts though, there is a common practice in the parking lot as someone is walking into the store, an exiting customer hands the newcomer a quarter so they can get a cart for free. Or the person leaving will simply forfeit the buggy they were using to the arriving shopper leaving them 25 cents in the red. The aspect that feeds my soul is the chemical reaction of endorphins that this simple gesture creates. Two strangers exchanging an unselfish act and a reciprocated sense of gratitude. 

They don't both need to be of the same political party, income level or race to enjoy this primitive connection that spurs joy. They're purely acting Homo Sapian. 

In the often clouded orbit of negativity and stress most of us reside in, this is a brief window for two random people exchanging pleasantries without first qualifying each other. Maybe it's the thrill of talking to a stranger or maybe it's the unnecessary notion of gift giving, but in these parking lot occurances, both people generally result in a smile. 

Hold the door, smile at people, and give up your damn quarters to anyone that needs it. We need more of that in our brief stay here.

Keep smilin'

JM

New in my life: Mickey has a tavern, it's a pretty bitchin spot. Beavers begin breeding this month. Querencia. 

The Hyporheic Flow of Life

I pace up and down a newly disced up field with a jingle of chert bouncing around in my enclosed hand like I'm a gambler about to roll doubles. The noise reminds me similarly of coins tumbling around in a pants pocket with every step. 

Back and forth my eyes scan for the shine of flint amidst the dark chocolate loam. The majority of rocks I find are merely pieces of a rock deposit that appear untouched. Or they have been chewed by the metal of farm equipment digging into the dirt over the centuries. Nothing of value. At least to some. 

The true value of looking for olden Native American tools isn't the find itself, but the journey your imagination takes during the process and the appreciation gained from a simpler time. Before there was true currency, the world traded and assessed value through products made from natural goods. A basket made of sweet grass. A buffalo skin jacket. Or the high-volume production of stone tools. 

My predecessors to walk the same farm I frequent are similar to me in the sense that they saw intrinsic value in commandeering rock from the earth. The difference for them is that a smooth chunk of chert was a big source of their worldly assets. They could utilize that found rock to grow their wealth through craft and trade. Just like when we wake up on certain Fridays and find money in our bank accounts. Except very different. 

I haven't quite drilled down the reasoning, but I find clarity and easier to think outside the box when I travel. Something about breaking routine gives my mind a permission slip to ruminate freely. When I find that mental space and my guard is down, I like to ease myself into the cool waters of what I believe is actually important to me in life. I won't soapbox you with my individual findings, but simply challenge you to periodically check your pulse in this way too. 

The easy route is to keep blindly swimming downstream until you're aged and with wisdom. The more fulfilling activity though is to take a present tense audit of your personal ideals. Aside from the paycheck, what are the top pillars you deem as important? Your kids? Self-Improvement? Assets? Travel? If you didn't have to work, how, what, and with whom would you spend your time? 

I'm not telling you what should be on this list, just that I've found it healthy to take a pause from my hamster wheel and think about it. It helps me perform a self-gut check on how I'm spending the majority of my time across my job, family, friends, and hobbies. Whether it's a quick trip to silence or mentally perusing a field for rocks, give yourself some slow time to reflect. 

As the mud forms a weight on my boots and escalates the weariness of my legs, every once in a blue moon I'll come across a distinctly shaped arrowhead laid atop the soil. Through space and time, I give an internal nod to its proficient creator for sharing the wealth from a shared source of value. 

New in my life: The oak sleeps in the acorn. A subtle shift in strategy. Uneducated in the formalities, profound in the essentials. 

Keep smilin'

JM

A Well Rooted True North

They used to use older trees to make furniture. The denser the rings means the heavier the wood. That is why grandma's old china cabinet stays where it is. I heard this from an old man in a coffee shop so it has to be gospel. 

It's interesting to think about trees that outlive humans. Personifying said trees is even more amusing.  I'd like to think these olden trees judge their two-legged visitors in comparison to the previous generations of sapiens they've seen. That's why I always like to give a good pat with my hand as I'm passing by a giant old oak. It's my way of respecting my elders. (Or should I say Alders....)

Every plant and human starts from seed. From there we take root and start heading in a direction. With a plant, things happen that modify its growth throughout its botanistic tenure. A branch will break, drought occurs, disease takes hold, sunlight supply varies, etc. 

In those trivial times, a plant looks to its roots for nutrition and direction. Depending on the status of the shrub, that can mean life or death. For humans, it could mean the difference in healthy versus unhealthy change. 

In the handful of generations that we spend on earth, our situation often changes, sometimes drastically. We change jobs, we change people and we get sick. No matter what newfound chapter we are embarking on, we all have a moral direction that guides us based on our chosen inner state of mind and is at the core of how we make decisions. 

The hopeful piece here is that we have some control of what that true north entails. Just like the tree doesn't always control what direction the branch is headed, even if we can't control our situation, we can still have an inner sense of purpose that defines how we react. A voluntary pedigree that we subconciously draw from when making decisions. 

Just like a plant that lives and dies by what it's rooted in, we too on a daily basis mirror what is the core of us. This is reflected in how you treat people both estranged and familiar throughout your day. 

Whether it is a big life moment you're facing or a trivial daily stressor, the health of your inner compass and morals could determine the growth of your next branch of life. Choose what you're rooted in wisely. 

New in my life: Ranch hand turned manager. Growing things. Sour-Joe coming to a store near you. 

Keep smilin'

JM

Little full. Lotta sap.

Growing up, we always cut Eastern Red Cedars off our property to use as Christmas trees. I hold firm in my belief they are the ugly cousin to the Douglas Fir, but nostalgia brings value and thinking sustainably, taketh what the land giveth. Part of the process of repurposing a tree for the holiday is to water it periodically to ensure it lasts until the long-awaited 25th. I find it ironically humorous that we ultimately kill something, dress it up and then nurture it a little because we don't want it to die too quick for the sake of our enjoyment. 

There is speak of how most of our human decisions are subtly centered around reproduction. From how we cut our hair, learn to play the guitar, what clothes we buy, to the diet we subscribe to, to the job we take, each small decision is made to more skillfully attract a mate. 

From a higher level though, in my opinion, our mortality is a bigger driver. Yes, we may want to breed and carry on the species, but we also have a looming pressure that our time to do that act is limited and that we are on a vague timeline with a hard stop. 

Talking about this hovering biologic countdown could be perceived as morbid and sad, and on the surface it is but I'd argue that it should be motivating. It's the reason you should try to enjoy your Tuesday as much as the two days at the end of the week. Don't wait to do what you want to do. 

Just like the procured cedar, we're all living a slow fun mortality so you may as well live it fully. Death makes life worth living. 

Keep smilin'

JM

New in my life: Acorn ornaments make for a sassy cedar. That's what they called me in high school. Calculating backyard farming. I'm a coyote man.