Settling is for Rocks

If you ever had the privilege of standing before the majestic Grand Canyon, you will witness a jaw-dropping display of intense natural beauty. The layers of red, orange, green, brown and tan create a rainbow of earth tone colors spanning every corner of sight. The senses are shocked by its magnificence and fooled into thinking it is only an illusion.

The Grand and its many smaller branch canyons were formed by millions of years of shifting and colliding tectonic plates, raging rivers and punishing winds, revealing dramatic rock formations that chronicle the history of our world.

Diving deep into the canyon, you can touch and feel the passage of time through each layered ribbon composed of rocks, sandstone, and sediment from ancient seas that settled over the centuries with the help of crushing gravity and enormous pressure.

As the canyon’s rocks have settled, people settle too. We settle for things material and for matters of the heart.

Settling for the material is easy to understand. It is either a Lexus or a Toyota, an apartment or a house, a suit or a pair of pants and a sport coat. We settle the material for convenience, cost, fit, availability, a deadline (Sale ends at midnight!!) or we just can not make up our mind and forced to decide.

Think of the last time you settled for something material. Were you relieved and happy or disappointed and feeling shorted. If it was the latter, fear not for it is easily fixed. Just trade in the Toyota for that Lexus or buy that house when your lease expires. Easy right?

Settling for the matters of the heart is very different. Settling for matters of the heart have long lasting affects, creating a feeling of loss that often cannot be regained. After all, it is a dream and a passion that has been diluted, leaving you hungry and unsatisfied.

In the context of the State of “Be”ing Cycle, settling is not taking those affirmative steps toward “be”ing someone or something . It is not even a “sideliner” that knocks you off the cycle you were on. Settling is much more painful.

If that is true, why do we settle on matters of the heart? Why do we trade in huge dreams for those with less loft? (Hint … this is the part where you pause, reflect and say “hhhmmm”!).

Now for the multiple choice quiz.

We settle because we:
A.) Fear making the leap,
B.) Underestimate our ability or conviction,
C.) Hear those “encouraging” comments such as “You’re too old (or young)”, “You can’t possibly do that!”, “It is just a phase that you’ll get over”.
D.) Are just too damn tired of the fight and simply give up,
E.) All of the above.

Now for extra credit. There is another ….. that of being “comfortable”.

Lots of us make the safe bet. We don’t loose but then again we don’t win. We stay in place like swimming against a strong current. There’s lots of spent energy, a feeling of doing but in reality accomplishing little. Another way of looking at it and tying back to the Canyon introduction (at last!), is gravity and pressure. The gravity of comfort is relentlessly pulling us to make the safe decision and there is enormous pressure exerted to keep us to it.

Take that local job and not hold off to pursue the one where you dreamt of living, get that 30 year plaque and not start that business when you knew you had the perfect idea, stay in a familiar relationship that’s safe and not take the risk by following your heart and passions. The list goes on………

Although, these are not bad or wrong decisions and there can be many positive outcomes. However, the most unsettling reality is regret, even when you convince yourself there is none.

In the quiet of your room as you lay awake at night staring into the darkness ..…. you know the answer…. hhhmmmm

Pebble in Your Shoe

I live by a fairly large county forest preserve that I really enjoy. I have been walking, running and biking its gentle series of meandering trails for several years. It cuts along an expansive marsh, fields of multicolored wildflowers, still lakes and native prairie grasses that dance in the breeze. Of course there are requisite trees of various sizes and shapes that dot the landscape and bring perspective and contours to a very flat horizon. Not at all hilly but after all it is Illinois. There are plenty of little critters and birds that I can’t name and even once in a while I can hear the occasional screeching of a red tail hawk or the whining engine of semi hurtling down a nearby highway, a muted reminder that reality is ever present. Nothing says serenity like a diesel!

Anyway, I started walking more rigorously and regularly a few months ago to tune up for an upcoming backpacking trip. It is the only way I can stay in some kind of shape now that I can’t run. I need to build up a modest bit of endurance so my compadres don’t leave me for the wolves, which I believe they would do if I lagged behind. Few know this backpacking secret but it is a strategy to have at least one laggard in a party. Unbeknownst to that poor soul, they represent the weak member of a herd with the unfortunate purpose of diverting predators from the rest. So the whole rule about falling behind is taken seriously with my crew, especially in bear country!

Anyway, I am at a pretty good clip and can complete the circuit in a lot quicker time then when I started. Working up a sweat on a sunny morning is my idea of a good time. On one of my recent hikes, I alas, realized something was missing. Since I couldn’t finger it, I pressed on, not to be deterred. Along the way, I met a young athletic woman named Barbara Bond, “as in James” she said. I notice Barbara because she was walking toward me carrying a little notebook making entries as she went. I couldn’t help but ask “why”? As it turns out, she runs the trail numerous times and never realized how pretty it was. So Barbara wanted to change it up by dressing in civilian clothes, walking slowly and noticing what she was running past. I thought that was great and told her so. Interestingly enough, I asked her if she saw the nice patch of fragrant pines that she must have just passed. We parted and went our opposite ways. I walked a little further thinking of my pleasant encounter with Barbara and anticipating coming upon that stretch of pines I touted. Then it dawned on me. I had already passed it and didn’t even notice. That made me think. How could I possibly miss it? I would always catch their fresh fragrance before reaching them. It was an enjoyable water stop under the shade, looking up and admiring the deep green symmetrical needles and the contrasting tan cones.

Evidently, something was lost. Even though I gained speed and endurance, I lost what I found walking at a beginner’s pace.

Moral of the story? It is good to have a pebble in your shoe. A mere pebble can interrupt your stride. You need to slow, find a place to stop and get the pebble out so you can continue the journey. In that time, you may pause and look around at the scenery and the things that you missed. Even when you are improving areas of your life and trying to better your self, you may not be paying attention to what perhaps got you there. These are the things that helped you through the discomfort of starting something new; distracting you from the rough spots and help you enjoy your initial successes.

Everyone needs to now and then get an “interruption”. What ever that might be …. comment from a peer, a minor defeat, something didn’t go as planned. Such interruptions causes you to stop, regroup, rethink your strategy, get back on the trail and maybe this time you will reconnect with those things you overlooked …… those things that developed you ….. those things that got you where you are.

Oh yah, I forgot to mention … that patch of pines was a welcome shelter during a sudden rain shower. Hhhmmmm!!

Something Comforting

Work has been keeping me away from posting. However, not to disappoint my fan, here's a poem I wrote a while ago that you might like. Consider this an interlude until I can break the shackles of the "man"!!

Something Comforting

Something comforting about eavesdropping on the next table

At a local restaurant in a plain vanilla suburb of Chicago,

Hearing the names of familiar streets, bridges and neighborhoods,

Stitched together with the remembered traffic and parking nightmares,

Spoken in the New York City “twang” I, at that moment, missed very much

but years ago couldn’t wait to escape.

Something comforting about suddenly remembering after years

To order my peppers and onions grilled crispy brown in my scrambled eggs

Just like my Polish and German (or French depending on the war) grandma

Made for me and my buddies on many occasion launching us back to college

Creating the tradition we talk about even today.

Something comforting about visiting a Lithuanian restaurant

Came upon by sheer happenstance one random Saturday

With customers and wait staff speaking the language

As culturally appropriate music played,

Being served rye bread, potato pancakes with rich sour cream

And lard soaked sour kraut as only eastern Europeans can make.

Something comforting about remembering, while washing dishes

With my twenty one year old daughter, the time I deeply hurt

my high-school-dropout, salt-of-the-earth, WW II vet, Knight of Columbus,

Work-till-he-died father with a quick, sharp comment

That I take back over and over again in prayer

But only until now told out loud to the one I hold dearest.

Something comforting about acting like teenage boys

With the same, as men, thirty five years later,

Not missing a beat with teenage boy brand humor

Sharing hopes and, hard to believe, deep thoughts about life, love

And the aches of aging used-to-be-teenage-boy bodies

Bonded by brotherhood and fueled by dreams.

Familiar Strangers

Some time ago, I was casually flipping through a large print Readers Digest in a doctor’s office, as most of us experience that magazine. An article caught my attention titled “Familiar Strangers”. It rang true for me in so many ways. Although meager attempts years after to find the article weren’t successful, it kept with me all this time.

It was about normal folk we encounter during our daily routines. The coffee guy that remembers our latte with skim milk, the rare smiling toll booth attendant, the conductor on the 7:03, or the receptionist at our place of work. They become repeating points of interest or scenic views along our worn pathway through life. They are ever present, inescapable moments in time with faces, purposes and names, that is if we ever care to ask or glance at their name badge. Unless we dare change direction or have an unpleasant experience, there they will be …at the appointed time and designated place faithfully providing the same expected service day after day. That service is not the frothy latte, but simply being there for us.

These familiar strangers add to our lives in some way, small and large. When they are not seen that day, we wonder. If they miss several days, we worry. If they are no longer in their reserved space, a feeling of loss enters in their place.

Raymond, the newspaper guy, was one of my familiar strangers. Every morning before dawn, it was just me, Dillon (my lovable yet unruly Sheltie) and Raymond. We were the only signs of life except for an occasional rabbit darting to safety with its target-like white cotton tale spotlighting its retreat. Who else would be up at 5:00 anyway. Seldom more then a wave or a “good morning” and a generic comment about the weather, good or bad. He never quite warmed up to Dillon. I guess some are not dog people. I forgave him for that early on in our relationship after he started giving me his extra papers. Maybe he didn’t want to carry them back, but I would rather believe he liked me.

Raymond was a short, round Hispanic man retired in his late sixties. He would shuffle from his car to hand deliver the local paper to the front doors of out neighbor’s houses. During the winter months his shuffle resembled a tightrope walker when ice or snow choked his groomed path. He wasn’t like the other paper guys, with drive by inaccuracy tossing papers from a speeding car. Not Raymond, he almost did it the old fashion way, minus the Schwinn and handlebar basket. Old fashion enough for a man in his sixties.

Non-the-less a pleasant experience overall. I often wondered why exactly this guy was delivering newspapers day in and day out. I guess that is what a “familiar stranger” is ….. someone we superficially know who glaze moments in our lives with something comforting like a warm donut but not deep enough to answer the questions and mysteries we create about them. Maybe that is all we want meandering through our routine days …. the mysteries we solve and the questions we answer using our vivid imaginations. After all, truth and reality is much more casual and temporary. Once we know, the fantasy is over. What fun is that?

When I moved, I lost Raymond. I still think of him and visualize him driving his SUV, slowly getting out and carefully delivering something that most people don’t even read any more. Here he is getting up probably at 3:30 every morning in the dark, including weekends and holidays, braving the weather and diligently delivering an obsolete product that no longer holds the importance it once had. After all, it is only for beer money, as I eventually found out.

Soon I left my familiar world, I wondered if he felt a sense of loss as well. I did after all disrupt his routine. “Where did Joe and that damn dog go? I miss them”, I would imagine he would say. Was I a familiar stranger to him? Did I fill some void in his life, even in some small way? Did I make him smile and feel comfort in the familiar role I played, walking Dillon and asking about his morning. My ego would only hope.

We are all tiny atoms, in patterned orbits, moving at rapid paces. Our orbits intersect with other’s as we meet our programmed obligations and carry out what destiny has laid before us. Along the way, we touch people’s lives in meaningful ways that we probably take for granted or never knew possible. So … think about the next time you casually exchange smiles with that neatly dressed business woman getting on at the same train station sitting in the same seat at the same appointed time. You just may be an important piece in her daily puzzle, setting the tone for her day.

Wow …. I guess we are more important then we might realize.

Catapult for sale. Slightly used. Best Offer.

The toughest challenge for most is how to make the leap across the great divide separating the State of Desire to the State of “Be”ing.

The gap is a vast ocean of molten lava. It takes more then the courage to put on your asbestos underpants and jump in.

After much intensive study, it appears that a catapult might be the quickest and easiest way to vault the expanse. Picture yourself braced in the rope basket of a monstrous medieval wooden catapult in a Monty Python-esque way. There you are waiting anxiously for the thick rough rope to be severed. Once cut, the tension is released and off you go …. up and over … clear to the other side. It might not be pretty as you are hurled through the air, arms and legs flailing, screaming in horror. Nor will your landing be soft and graceful, but ….SPLAT….. although a little shaken and bruised, you are there … at long last.

I like the image of a catapult (aka “trebuchet”…according to my dear friend, Webster, is a medieval military engine for hurling missiles with great force). It’s release is sudden. The tension is let loose and things happen. Often it seems we need a catapult to force us to make dramatic changes in our lives.

It is a cataclysmic event in our ritualistic lives that calls us to action. Let’s not confuse a catapult with a catalyst. A catalyst implies a chemical reaction that causes change to occur …. bubbling and fizzing …. over a long period of time. A catalyst does facilitate and hasten change from one form to another but for real kick-in-the-ass type change, most people need a catapult.

Modern day catapults exist and are easy to recognize. It could be a job loss, divorce, heart attack or the death of someone dear.. All are life-altering moments that necessitate change in how we live the rest of our lives. Clearly in these examples, life as we knew it ceases to exist.

The truth is, instances are few when we actually have little control on what catapult we will be in and who is cutting the rope. Those situations are easy. Change is going to come, whether or not we know it, like it or want it. The real challenge, and the most common, are those times when we need to climb in the catapult of our own construct and cut the rope ourselves. These are the instances that require the most determination and emotional strength because we alone are responsible for what happens. There is time, maybe too much time, for fear, hesitation and doubt to set in. All are deal breakers if we dwell long enough, so decisive action is needed. Not impulsive or reckless, but thoughtful yet quick. It takes sound, clear thinking to build a fine catapult.

Another truth is that we often blame others, play the victim and fail to take responsibility for the catapult we wind up in. I would submit to the jury, that we are accountable for most of the baskets we claim are out of our control. Take the “has been” in the office. She doesn’t get it but others do and take action. If it happens to you, you have no choice where it takes you and the condition you land depends on how nimble and versatile you are. Most survive with long lasting wounds and some never recover.

The moral of the story? If we do not make a change ourselves, somebody might make it for us. So the trick is to build your own catapult and not be in the position where one is built for you. It seems logical, doesn't it? If you make it happen, you have control, you have choice and you can set the direction on your terms.

If you can’t buy one, build one. I’m sure somewhere on ebay, there’s a catapult with a low number of sieges, few scares from burning oil and touched up arrow gashes. Better yet, get blueprints to make your own.

Here’s a handy site to help: http://howtomakecatapult.shakshino.russia.emoneysolve.com/medievalcatapult/

New & Improved Definitions

State of “Be”ing Cycle Definitions

State of Desire	A desire to be something or someone. What we “wanna be” is only an image and a vision without a decision to act.
Wanna Be	A decision to attain stature and/or eminence in a specific field of endeavor. There is conviction and determination.
Should Have Been	The potential was apparent and the desire was strong enough to “Wanna be” but no action was taken to begin the cycle. Leads to frustration, disappointment and lost opportunities. The state of lost dreams. When disabling events or the simple passage of time prevents a person from even wanting to be something. To live is a “wishful” world without any attempt to enter the cycle and any possibility of achievement is perhaps the worst fate of all.
Could Be	To be actively engaged in achieving what is desired. When you have achieved a certain degree of competencies when you realistically can believe that can “be” what you once had only dreamed of becoming.
Could have been	“Sidelined” along the way of achievement. Any number of personal, physical or professional factors prevents or interrupts attainment of “Be” status. “Be” status can still be achieved by overcoming the obstacle.
Be	Attainment of what was desired and actively involved in maintaining/enhancing that level of achievement. “Being” does not always mean a practitioner “Being” is still maintained and enhanced as a teacher, thought leader and as a creative.
Used to Be	Due to a “sideliner”, no longer actively engaged in maintaining the stature you once attained. However, a high degree of competency exists that would enable a return to “Be” with some effort. That competency erodes over time and the length of time on the sidelines determines the ability to return to “be” status.
Has Been	A significant time as a “Used to be” has resulted in a loss of competencies necessary to regain “Be” status. Will require extensive effort and desire to start the cycle again. One has to “Wanna Be” again.

New and improved State of "Be"ing Cycle Diagram

Yo .... Copernicus!!!

According to my dear friend, Webster, “irony” is the incongruity between the actual result of a sequence of events and the normal or expected results.

A perfect example and one that will secure my picture next to its definition is how can a normal (maybe) guy with a love of martial arts, running and physical fitness get osteoarthritis.

As I sit on the upper level of the old 6:24 am commuter train making my daily run to Chicago, I ponder that. The A/C is masking the steamy summer heat outside leaving just the sunshine to put me in a zenish trance as the passing scenes mesmerize.

Maybe the answer to my dilemma will appear. Maybe the pain in my back and hip will miraculously disappear.

But as the reality of my rocky train ride is coming to an end, so too is the reality that my physical fix will take as much determination and persistence as earning my shodan years ago. Is this another “ah ha” moment or what?

My “wanna be” has yet to begin. My desire to return to “greatness” (now modest fitness) is still mere electrical impulses bouncing around randomly in my tiny brain. I am not even on the State of “Be”ing Cycle. I am looking in from the outside like a child wanting to hop on a spinning merry-go-round. It won’t stop but I have to somehow make the leap.

You might be wondering (or not) where Copernicus fits into this tale. Well this “ah ha” moment made me feel like an ancient astronomer discovering a new planet after justifying for years only a certain number. There is another planet that I hadn’t noticed before. It has always been but it makes sense now that the clouds are clearing.

Yo, Copernicus … that’s not dust on the telescope!!

Before we make the leap to the State of “Be”ing cycle and even grab onto that “wanna be” ring, there is a “State of Desire” out there, outside of the cycle.

Where as a “wanna be” makes a conscious decision to act, being in a State of Desire, our “wanna be” is only an image or a vision far from reality. Seemingly a subtle difference but not really. We all imagine our selves being someone or something but it takes action and often a cataclysmic event to provide the push to conviction.

A dear friend sent me this quote from an ancient Chinese philosopher (or may be he just made it up!) … “A vision without action is a daydream. Action with out a vision is a nightmare”.

Visualization is truly an important part of the self-development process. We can vividly imagine all the details of what we want and all the steps that need to take us there. However, visualization is not enough. We need to move to action and make that leap from desire to the State of “Be”ing Cycle.

See the modified “State of “Be”ing Cycle diagram and definitions with my new planet!!

Sara Riva Tulbowitz

Just yesterday I celebrated my 54th birthday. As the duality of this world would have it, so too did I remember the death of Sara Riva Tulbowitz. You might ask, how did a catholic, Italian Pole in his 50's with a name like "Pulichene" meet up with a Jewish girl, age 17 named "Tulbowitz". An even better question would be how did a guy who was born in 1956 meet a girl who was born on August 2o, 1924 and died in 1941. hhhmmmm.

Well the answer lies with a truly wonderful web site: www.eachofushasaname.org

I was made aware of the site by a very dear friend whose 14 year old son created it to honor the victims of the holocaust. There are many ceremonies that pay tribute to and remember those who lost their lives during that horrible period of our human existence. However, my friend's son came up with this way of honoring every single person whose life was tragically taken on the anniversary of their death. Thereby, the name ..... each of us has a name. How fitting. How beautiful.

So that is how I became acquainted with Sara. Some how, I connected with her instead of so many others. Since there was not an actual recorded date of her death, it was permissible to pick a date. As an easy way to remember, I picked my birthday as the date to remember her death. I also wanted to honor the 17 years of her life and try to imagine her as a teenager. This was very impactful for me since my daughter is 22 and not so far off in age from Sara when she died. How tragic and how unfair that Sara's life be taken before she was able to grow into who she could have become.

So next time you hear me complain about another birthday and getting old , please remind me of Sara who never had that chance. God bless you, Sara and I wish you peace. You will be remembered!!

For more information about this meaningful web site and to select a name to remember: www.eachofushasaname.org

The Wobbling Stool

Everyone has sat on a stool that wobbles. For whatever reason, a leg or two is uneven and you wobble back and forth. Sometimes rhythmically but most of the time it grows highly annoying and disruptive to why you are sitting … chatting with friends, having a quick meal or reading a paper.

Even tables at a restaurant seem to wobble. This is usually remedied by wedging under a leg a folded napkin, book of matches or, if it is really severe, a menu.

The goal is to stop the rocking, achieve stability and get on with what you are doing without distraction.

I believe we all have the characteristics of a wobbling stool. We wobble when that which supports us becomes uneven. There we are sitting comfortably when something happens to one or more legs of our stool causing us to wobble, become disoriented and possibly fall. Our center of gravity is shaken and we feel out of sorts.

What provides that stability is different for everyone. Everyone’s legs are unique to who we are. Each finds support and stability through a variety of personal ways. Haven’t you asked yourself, “Why do I feel so darn great these past few days?” or, more likely, “Why am I in this funk that I can’t get out of?” A leg on our stool is not something temporary or trivial like the weather, the traffic or your sports team’s record. These legs represent something significant in our world. They run deep within us and touch our soul.

Stools come in different shapes and sizes and they usually have three or four legs. Less then three and there’s no hope of stability what so ever. More then four and your stool looks ridiculous! My stool has four: health, relationships, profession and, last but not least, my daughter. Health or being fit is important to me. My earlier blog entries drone on about that aspect of my life. Relationships with family and friends are so very important as is their happiness and comfort. My profession or career is a strong driver of who I am and a reflection of where I came from and my value. My daughter is my life. What happens to her has dramatic effects on everything I do and how I feel.

Most of my life has been trying to achieve some degree of balance with minimal wobble.

What rests on our stool is not our petite butts. What rest tenuously is our emotional and psychological well “be”ing. When one of our supporting legs is off kilter, so too is our ability to achieve balance and simply feel good. We are uneasy, stressed, irritated and uncomfortable. When all our legs are the same length, so to speak, we are balanced, centered and at peace. Believe me, none of which escapes those around us.

A good example of a major wobble was when I lost my job. A wholesome chunk of my “professional” leg was wacked off. The shock to the stool was extremely unsettling and I felt I was falling. To the rescue were the other legs of my stool. My friends and family were incredibly encouraging, my daughter was in my corner cheering me on and I was in tip-top shape to withstand the physical demands of the job search. My karate classes continued which was a major stress reducer. Nothing says tranquility then beating the crap out of a heavy bag!!

Using a fair amount of creativity, just imagine the other legs magically adjusting their lengths to compensate for the reduction in my damaged one. I still wobbled a bit but not as much as if I were alone or was in poor health. I got through it with a buttress here and there. I never fell…not once! This is certainly more then I can say for many a bar stool I’ve encountered!

So …. most days I do a systems check on my mental outlook trying to understand why I wobble and see what I can find to wedge under a leg.

Snap out of it!!

In Moonstruck (a must see), there is an extremely entertaining and poignant scene when Ronny Cammareri (played by Nicolas Cage) declares to Loretta Castorini (played by Cher) , “I love you” to which Loretta responds with two hard slaps and a sharp “Snap out of it”.

Let’s put things in perspective, shall we, and not be so damn dramatic. Although I have a “degenerative disease”, it is not life threatening. I don’t have the hideous big “C’. Nor do I have Lou Gehrigs disease or MS. So what’s a few aches and pains that vicodin and a hip replacement can’t cure!! The reality is, as a dear friend once said, I am loved, fed and safe. So, Joey ….. “Snap out of it!”

To make me feel more ashamed of my “woe is me” fatalism, I happened to see a Sunday morning program weeks ago that left a huge imprint on me. Prophetically enough, I watched it before my diagnosis. Maybe my inner “Joe” knew it would come in handy one day … perhaps this day. The story was about Dennis Walters. His story began as a young aspiring and gifted golfer on his way to winning many professional trophies. Nothing but promise lay ahead of him. His dreams were on track to be reality until one day on the course, he suffered a freak golf cart accident that left him paralyzed from his waist down. He couldn’t walk much less golf. To make a wonderful story way too short, he turned his passion for golf and his innate skill into an awesome display of courage and tenacity. He became a renown trick golf artist making incredible shots thrilling thousands all over the US. He triumphed because many told him he couldn’t. Now that is chutzpah!! “Chutzpah” according to me Yiddish friend, Webster, means “supreme self confidence” and in Dennis’ case, it was.

Another take away from the story was a beautiful tagline he uses ….. “If your dream doesn’t work out, find another one!” Hhmmm …maybe that is where I am on the State of “Be”ing cycle. Maybe I need to find another “be” to “wanna be” …. Do you think?

For more information about Dennis, see http://denniswalters.com

HOLY SIDELINER, BATMAN!!

Wow! I never thought it could happen to me. There I was back on track from “used to be” to “be” when WAMM, BAMM, ZAP … I get the news.

My gi was finally loosing the smell of mothballs and I was getting back in some kind of shape both physically and mentally by returning to the dojo. However, the persistent itiotibial (IT) band and hip flexor muscle aches were not getting better after a year of doctor visits, physical therapy and massages. A new sports medicine doctor made the discovery through his x-ray eyes that yours truly, mister physically fit, backpacking martial artist has osteoarthritis of the hips. It took a quick glance to determine that the pain I experienced were caused by this “degenerative disease”. Even my untrained eye could see the compressed cartilage and the compensating bone spurs as he pointed to the illuminated film. It showed the varying tones of gray bone, but I only saw one huge red stop sign.

“Degenerative disease?” hhhmm …. Each of those words alone is daunting enough but together they were deeply devastating in so many ways. First of all, I have never had a disease before. Colds, flu, strep throat and pink eye were the extent of my medical afflictions. Most of my conditions were self-inflicted by overdoing what ever I did evidenced by sprains, bruises and muscle pulls. However, I never broke anything except when my first love, Suzie Schmidt, broke my heart in high school, but I digress.

Couple “disease” with “degenerative” and just crash my dream of trekking the foothills of the Himalayas against the rocks of despair. I didn’t even need to consult WebMD or my friend, Webster, to know what “degenerative” means …. incurable, terminal and progressively getting worse. The visions of competitive sparing again, bagging the Grand Teton or running a marathon were replaced with staggered stepping in a walker with lime green tennis balls on its rear legs or speeding along in a shopping mall on a mobility scooter! This is not what I ever envisioned at age 53.

The problem with this whole shock-to-the-system event, is realizing that I am no longer immortal. I was just a “use to be” for goodness sake and with a little effort, I knew I could be a “be” again. I did it many times before and I certainly could do it again. Why not now? I got the answer I didn’t see coming.

The other realization, and perhaps a classic “I told you so” moment, was that my past actions brought on my own downfall. Simple cause and effect. My years of intense training and doing what I love may now be the reason why I can no longer. Would I have given up the feeling of flying during a run or bowing to the raising sun in gratitude for a perfect kata or the fulfillment of an all out workout when every inch of my cloths were soaked? Probably not. Toned down? Probably.

It gets one thinking though. I guess I am working through the steps of grief that will eventually lead to acceptance. In a real sense, it is coming to grips with a loss … the loss of my identity ….. who I am or thought I was.

Stay tuned … SAME BAT TIME AND SAME BAT CHANNEL.

There is a short path to “has been”.

There is a short path to “has been”, laced with regret, guilt and feeling of failure.

Such feelings intensify by holding on to those “used to be” dreams and remembering how great it was to be a “be”. But how can you not remember the times when you were on top of the world, heard the crowds cheering, basked by the looks of admiration? Can you ever?

There is really no elapsed time that takes one from “used to be” to “has been” … within reason of course. It is more of a state of mind and realistic longing to return to the gleaming place once held and labored so hard to reach. To be a "be", one mastered the art of “not giving up”, but for a number of reasons, has done just that.

Being on the brink of “has been” is deeply painful ….. desperately gripping the edge as not to fall and complete the journey down.

This is a time to make a choice. You can do one of four things.

First….”Languish in the Past”. As Webster defines “Languish …. 1. a.) To be or become feeble, weak, or enervated (oh my God … another word to look up!), b.) to be in or live in a state of depression or decreasing vitality, 2. a.) To become dispirited. b.) To suffer neglect 3.) to assume an expression of grief or emotion appealing for sympathy. This is not the best option for obvious reasons. The image of a car spinning it’s wheels in the mud ….. messy and going no where. The other image is that cauliflowered ear prizefighter leathered and punch drunk, earning his next drink by reliving his moments of glory in the ring. What comes of this but pity, shame and tired tales that eventually no one wants to hear. The free drinks stop coming.

Second is to “Savor the Past” and look at it fondly. You recognize what it is and all it was. You know in your heart of hearts that you did good, achieved a great deal and will not be going back in mind, body and spirit. When you are reminded of your time as a “be” by some “wanna be”, you will have that knowing smile and say to yourself … “yup, I was there once.” You are at peace.

Third is to “Get back on the Horse”. Seemingly an easy choice but in reality requires more then sporting a cowboy hat and strapping on chaps. Speaking from experience (not by putting on chaps, mind you) but putting on my karate gi after it has been hibernating in a gear bag deep inside my closet for five years. I almost forgot how to wrap it on and tie my belt in a respectable knot. The gi was minor compared to bowing in to the dojo for the first time after so many years. Just like standing on the edge of an open door on a plane, skydiving for the first time.

Fourth is to “Find Another” …… mountain to climb, a language to learn, a second career, a new business, etc.. In other words, recognizing that you don’t want to become that same “be” again but willing to take a new leap as a different “wanna be”. You understand you don’t want to go back but you want to move in a different, exciting direction. The cycle begins!! State of "Be"ing Cycle Diagram

Enervate: 1.) To lessen the vitality or strength of, 2.) to reduce the moral and mental vigor.

Sidelined and now a "Use To Be"

Achieving my Shodan was a bittersweet moment and perfect example of the classic Chinese definition of duality, "ying yang". In Japanese, it is "in yo" and in Korean it is "um yang". No matter how you spin the chop stick, you can not experience true joy unless you have experience true sorrow and, conversely, you can not be truly sorrowful unless you have experience true joy. Just the week after I was awarded the Shodan and days shy of my 46th birthday, my job was eliminated. I was “Side lined" and it instantaneously made me a "Use to be". It took the wind out of me more then a front kick to the stomach. The effects of a kick lasts a few minutes but this was a vacuum that had much more serious implications. It crushed my ego and filled my world with fear. Things like mortgage and utility bills had new meaning.

What I did discover as result was that my work life was not going as well as my life as a martial artist. Talk about one of life's lessons!!! There were many that I relived over and over to this day.

After many years of humiliation and regret, I realized that receiving the honor of a black belt was far and above more grand and meaningful then struggling with an unfulfilling job.

It was getting more and more difficult to continue the intensity of the training. My priority changed to the basic of all Maslow’s hierarchy … food and shelter. My job search was the next “be” that had to be. There was no choice.

Now I truly was a bona fide “used to be” as both an employed person and a martial artist.

Silver lining time ........ Thankfully after 4 months of searching, I finally landed. That landing led to several years of earning different kinds of belts … those earned by 10 to 12 hour days and 6 days a week. Doing what it took to do well, be respected and stay employed. This left time for little else, especially my training. My moments with my family were less, but they gratefully understood. At that time, nothing beat meeting my mortgage payment!

After my job settled down somewhat and my suits no longer fit, I slowly tried to get in shape. I worked my katas and basic karate moves. This kept me going and maintaining, even at the bare minimum, my skills. If I couldn’t pass the Black belt test, I at least knew what it would take and I wasn’t so far off. I even dabbled in other martial arts styles … aikido and tai chi to keep me involved in the art. I kept reading related books and even self taught the use of some weapons such as a bokkan, jo and katana (aka Samurai sword). All to keep one toe in the martial arts water hoping to dive back with my full body..... to become a somebody once more.

“Used to be’s” can come back. They often do…..then again …. they often do not.

Finally a "Be"!!

After several years of study and several belt tests, I was slowly and deliberately moving to become a “be” .. the third stage of the cycle. I worked up the rainbow ladder of belts … White through Brown. The next rung in the dojo pecking order was the mystical, illusive Black belt. It’s siren called to me. It became louder as I progressed calling me, tempting me, challenging me. Through the array of sprains, bruised ribs and broken toes, I felt I was earning my chance through literal blood, sweat and tears…manly tears of course.

The second Black belt test was the charm. Each test preceded with six months of hard training, 6 days a week, 2 to 3 hours a day. Soon after, I received notice that I achieved my Shodan, first degree black belt . I was so thankful and proud. Sensai announced it at class and all the students applauded. At least in my own mind I heard the crowd roar. It felt good and I knew in my heart that it was not given to me. I earned the right to wear that crisp new black belt. My family was proud and I was proud. It felt good, beyond good, to actually achieve a dream … at long last. Even a friend down the block gave me a card affirming that the neighborhood was much safer now. Indeed it was.

The swagger immediately followed. Bowing into the dojo and walking though the ranks of the lower belts meant something. Being bowed to was not just a thrill and boost to the ego. It was recognition of a long awaited and hard fought achievement. Every student knew it because they were going through the same journey and had the same “wanna be” dream.

It was so very gratifying to achieve this goal. For once in my life, I was a “be”!! It took me a long time, a lot of effort and much sacrifice. It was all worth it. I joined an elite corp. I was a “be”. I was a somebody, Charlie!

"Could Be"

Without a doubt, I was obsessed. After all, one must be to make the journey from “wanna be” to “could be”, the second stage of the cycle. One or two classes during the week and practicing non-stop. Add some running and weight lifting and I was a “very dangerous poison”…. as Mick said to Rocky. I got into the best shape ever. Dropped the weight, lost the body fat (actually saved it for later in my closet!) and picked up some ego along the way. I was a “could be”!

Being a real martial artist, a karateka, was now more then ever in the realm of possibilities. I have never been in this space before. It was almost unthinkable, unimaginable, but there I was. I could taste it. I always missed the brass ring by just …. that much. I never made that big play in High School football. I never won a raffle. You can not respectfully count the electric can opener I won in second grade at a St Barnabas Grade school Christmas fair. Exciting as that was, it didn’t compare to where I was now.

I was on the brink of greatness. The world was my oyster and I was ready!

State of "Be"ing Cycle Definitions

Wanna Be:
A strong desire to attain stature and/or eminence in a specific field of endeavor.

Should Have Been:
The potential was apparent and the desire was strong enough to “Wanna Be” but no action was taken to begin the cycle. Leads to frustration, disappointment and lost opportunities. The state of lost dreams. When disabling events or the simple passage of time prevents a person from ever trying to be something. To live is a “wishful” world without any attempt to enter the cycle and without any possibility of achievement is perhaps the worst fate of all.

Could Be:
To be actively engaged in achieving what is desired. A certain degree of competencies have been obtained and you realistically can expect to “Be” what you once only dreamed of becoming.

Sideliner:
Any number of personal, physical, emotional or professional factors that prevents or interrupts attainment of “Be” status.

Could have been:
“Sidelined” along the way of achievement. “Be” status can still be achieved by overcoming the obstacle.

Be:
Attainment of what was desired. Actively involved in maintaining and enhancing that level of achievement.
• “Being” does not always mean a practitioner
• “Being” is still maintained and enhanced as a teacher, thought leader and as a creative.

Used to Be:
Due to a “Sideliner”, no longer actively engaged in maintaining the stature you once attained. However, a high degree of competency exists that would enable a return to “Be” with some effort. That competency erodes over time and the length of time on the sidelines determines the ability to return to “Be” status.

Has Been:
A significant time as a “Used to Be” has resulted in a loss of competencies necessary to regain “Be” status. Will require extensive effort and desire to start the cycle again. One has to “Wanna Be” again.

State of "Be"ing Cycle Diagram

It all starts with that simple phrase ..... "i wanna be" something.

To be continued .......

My "Wanna Be" Journey started in High School

My “wanna be” started during the 1970's in high school on Long Island. I took boxing lessons with my buddies, Robby, Johnny and Johnny (now aka Jack) through a park district program. (Funny how in New York, guy's nick names always ended in "Y". I was Joey, of course). Anyway, I would have been pretty good if it wasn’t for the fact that I couldn’t see a punch coming without my glasses and had a keen aptitude for nose bleeding. Not a very good combination for a fighter. Blur and blood …. that was my combination. Even with this career limiting handicap, I still imagined fighting in a ring, crowds cheering and “Bloody Nose Joe” knocking out the champ in a Rocky-esq kind of way.

Many years later when my wife nagged me about not spending enough "quality time" with my five year old daughter, I enrolled in parent/child karate. The dream lived on! Maybe for me it did. Alas, my five year old didn’t quite like the hitting part very much even though she was incredibly adorable with a pony tale in a white gi with pink barrettes. In her defense, It is hard to be both cute and vicious. Over time, she dropped karate to pursue her girly ice skating. I kept going, the brute I was. Oh well, it’s a man’s sport anyway. Move over kid!!

I always wanted to be a fighter like my dad, Joseph Anthony Pulichene. He started out to be boxer on the East side of Manhattan in Little Italy in the late 1930's. He was a pretty good feather weight with a lot of potential, until his immigrant father, stopped him in his tracks. You see, in those days in Little Italy, you either learned to fight and joined the mob or you grew straight and narrow. Legend has it, my dad's father hid his gym shoes the night of a big fight. He couldn't box in his sox and there were no Sportsmart on the East side of Manhattan he could run to. It never made perfect sense to me but legends never do. None-the-less … A career nipped for lack of footwear. Go figure. Maybe that’s why karate seemed to take hold. You can do it in bare feet! I found the answer. No one was going to try that old trick again by hiding my shoes and make me a perpetual “wanna be” or a “should have been”. I was destined for greatness, a somebody! If only my dad found the key to his dream. Although maybe he did. A little rough around the edges and with some broken English, Joseph Anthony grew up pretty darn straight and narrow. He dropped out of H.S. to support the family, fought in a war saving Europe from the Nazi's, got out of Little Italy, married a beautiful young women, raised a family, worked hard achieving the American dream and was truly loved. You did good ... Joseph Anthony!! Maybe his dad really did know better after all.

The cycle begins with a simple "want".

Journey from “Wanna be” to “has been” …. And back

We all want to be a “somebody”. The one of many great lines in “On the Water Front” is when has-been prize fighter, Terry Malloy, played by Marlon Brando, confronts his gangster brother, Charlie, played by Rod Steiger .... “I could have had class. I could have been a contender. I could have been somebody. Instead of a bum, which is what I am.”

I’m no different in that we all have wishes and dreams. If we are lucky and work very hard, some little ones come true but the big ones, the really big ones, by far turn to a wispy mist and blow away with the slightest breeze.

This blog will track my journey from “Wanna be” to a “State of “Be”ing” and every which way after that. It is an ongoing journey with realizations, meaningful encounters, disappointments, failures, successes ... and all those good, bad and unexpected events that shape who we are and where we end up.

It will introduce some ideas, thoughts and concepts that have helped me understand where I am along the State of "Be"ing Cycle. They may help you be that somebody you “wanna be”.

Terry .... this is not “a one way ticket to palookaville”.