Stretching

Okay, anyone who has had a physical injury, by default, has learned the importance of stretching. It alleviate's the tension that builds up in the muscles during intense workouts. The more a muscle is worked the tighter and more compact it becomes. Stretching elongates the muscles and allows respite.
Similarly, when we exercise our brains and we delve further into a topic, tension builds and our minds expand.
Failure to adhere to the importance of stretching either type of muscle, leaves us stiff in stature and rigid in thought.

2/23/10 A Line is Drawn

The impact of a line drawn in the sand
far exceeds it's visual physicality
It matters not, whether it is drawn softly or harshly
what appears to be easily erasable
leaves an indelible mark that long withstands the currents' force
Even as the shore appears to be smooth
remnants remain

2/13/10 - 2/14/10 - Plain Truth

I have always been a rather unremarkable person, very simple in my appearance, not particularly athletic, and utterly ordinary in my existence.  I have maintained the national averages in most regards.  My endeavors have kept me within the boundaries of typical.  I have not ventured far on the map of adventure nor have I extended my global limits.  I am currently working a part-time job at a gym and I have come to realize that what I can do, is be exceptional at being ordinary. 

Working the front desk at a family gym, that is relatively inexpensive gives me a window into average America.  While the gym does have it's smattering of "celebrity" members, these are very few.  What I have come to notice is,  that it takes all kinds, to make humanity.  I am on a first name basis with the most diverse collection of people I could ever imagine.  I have grown to apprecaite eveything this job brings me. 
Here is some of what I've learned:

I used to see the elderly as sad, lonely people.  Now I see them as kind, experienced souls that are happy with a smile and a brief conversation.  They have worlds of experiences to share and I am lucky enough to be the recipient of some of their life lessons. 

I used to envy the young and fit and now I see, they are filling their social voids with empty gym time that continues to leave them alone and unhappy.

Many of the families that come to the gym merely see it, as their escape from the kids.  A way to fill time they don't know how to fill on their own.  We are there to serve them and we should know what they want and how they want it.  They exude an air of entitlement that transfers down to their children.  When their offspring become old enough to be on their own (and for many that is the ripe old age of ...8), they also walk the halls as though we are their servants, demanding this or that and expecting immediate service.  They pay for nothing and are appalled when asked to wait.....for anything.

There are the truly physically disabled that inspire me every day.  The cross they bear would be crushing to most, yet they soldier on, not knowing how else to conduct themselves.  They are happy with the simplest of accomplishments and rarely discouraged with their lot in life.  They work, even when they are pedaling backwards, because in their minds, at least they are pedaling.

There are those recovering... from an illness, injury, or the travesties of life.  They need the gym to return, maintain or improve their health and that is how they view it.  It is their tool to get them to where they want to be and they'll  do whatever is necessary to get them there.

I can not forget the youth, that have no idea that 10-15-20 years down the road, what they are doing now, will no longer be what defines them, nor will it be as easy as it currently is.  The skills, time and fitness they currently possess, will soon elude them to a life of aging, commitments, demands and obligations, they could never imagine would take priority.

There are the middle aged who use their age as an excuse for being inadequate while they grapple with remnants of their prior selves.  They are not yet ready to concede to the realities of their stage in life, so they struggle to be what they once were, or what they once aspired to be, unable to accept that they have passed their "prime" and need to accept their "medial" stage in life. 

I can not forget those that use the gym as their social life.  Of these, there are two types;  the first are the desperately lonely that will carry on a conversation with anyone that glances their way.  Once in their snare it is a long slow process of removal from the situation.  A polite escape is impossible, abrupt and quick action is the only alternative.  They grasp onto anyone, with a longing sadness similar to a widowed swan aching for it's life long mate.  The front desk staff are often a captive audience that has no option but to patiently listen and wait for interruption.  The other type are the silently sad.  One sincere look into there eyes and you can see their souls weeping for companionship yet they would never burden others with their affliction.  They wait and hope to find someone to fill the void but are not particularly proactive in their efforts.  These are the hardest people to watch.   Few people will take on the daunting task of befriending an unfulfilled, painfully shy person.

Finally, there are the "regulars".  All of whom have an addiction to their routine.  Whether it is for their own benefit or not, they are the committed, dedicated constants that are the backbone of the gym.  They are athletes that travel the world in search of the next race.  They are the parents, proudly supporting their children in physical prowess.  They are the adults and youth perfecting their sport, fitness or strength.  Some are onions with incredible stories and depth, while others are average people conducting themselves in simple pleasure, enjoying the most basic moments.  They are content with the present and take each day as it comes. 

Perhaps this is where I come in.  I have come to see how truly average I have been throughout my life and I am content with that.  I have done, no more and no less than expected.  I have been able to smile and laugh daily, whether it was at myself or at a situation.  I am a happy soul who brings happiness to those around me.  I try to enjoy every moment I can.  I experience life events with all the passion I can stir within myself.  I am a truly empathetic and kind person who tries to find the good in others regardless of their glaring flaws. 

We are all born with intentional skills and purpose.  It is each person's goal to discover their gift and share it.  My gift...

A simple smile - kindness - a sympathetic ear

of ordinary stature - but a heart that's meant to share

                            

2/11/10 Why I Write

I write
... to express
... to be heard
... to inspire
... to provoke thought
Each pass of my pen is
... an offering
... a challenge
... an idea
... an original
Each composition is
... a reflection
... an indication
... a struggle
... a goal
Each composition I pen is a tangible, reflective offering of expression.
It is my hope that, at some point, somewhere, each passage resonates and invokes, inspiring, challenging, thought provoking, ideas and goals. 
If I can speak to each reader and give them something they need at the time of their reading, then my time has been well spent and my mind has been well churned.

2/10/10 Remembering Queenie

It's funny, I've been driving my kids to school every morning for the past six years and never once took notice of the cars in the parking lot, but now that my oldest has his license, that's all I look at.  I can't help but glance over at the high school student lot, after I drop my daughter off at middle school.  I'm always quick to pick out Connor's car, it's so distinct.  A red Jeep Wrangler with black doors.  The tire on the rear door proudly proclaiming, "Life is Good" and it certainly is.  So many students have cars now, lots of pickup trucks, sedans, family hand me downs and even a mini van.  I smile when I pass Connor's car because it reminds me of my first car.  The car I drove to school when I was in high school and picked up as many friends as I could possibly fit.  The car that was the envy of many and still comes up in conversation often.  My car was perhaps the coolest, most recognized car in the high school lot.  A gold Pontiac Firebird with mag wheels, a wide black stripe down the middle and a wing on the back.  Stepping into the car was like getting into a low slung beach chair.  The seats practically kissed the pavement.  The long nose made me feel like a race car driver, staring down it's stripe, as if I were on course to break all kinds of speed barriers.  Back then, everyone did not have a car.  I was fortunate enough to have four older siblings and so, I inherited my oldest brother, Frank's car.  He was eight years older than me and as such, had long since moved on from the Firebird.  Both of my older sisters, Karen & Eileen,  had a stint with Queenie; as a matter of fact, they were the ones to name the car.  I believe they named the car after my Aunt Theresa's car, an antique, black, something or other, whose only similarity with the Firebird was that it was old.
.
I was the last of the Casal's to have Queenie.  I drove her every day I could, junior and senior year.  I remember jamming half the tennis team into the car and driving them home, the back of the car was so low, it was actually scraping the ground, ahhh...what a ride!!!   I can still see the look on friends faces when they had to tell me someone hit my car in the lot. The school was a buzz with this terrible news. I was so horrified, I left the school to check on Queenie, (something I could have gotten in a lot of trouble for). She was fine, a specimen of strength and resilience, either that, or the hit was merely a tap that got grossly exaggerated.  Never the less, it was the talk of the school for the entire day.  Queenie was cherished by many, not just her owner.  She would live to continue her escort service for many more days. 

As one can imagine, as she aged, there were days she would need some work and my mother would let me drive her Pontiac, Grand Prix.  The Grand Prix was considerably newer and nicer, but I longed for the Firebird.  While others knew how lucky I was to have either a super cool sports car or a new Grand Prix to drive, I was not as aware of my fortitude.  When I went away to college at Green Mountain, in Vermont, my parents would not allow me to take Queenie, for fear she would break down in the mountainous, winding landscape of western Mass or Vermont.  I was so disappointed.  I resented having to take the Grand Prix.  Friends would write and tell me they saw my five foot tall mother, tooling around in my sports car and only the vision of that would make me smile.  I'm sure she hated driving the Firebird as much as I hated driving the Grand Prix.  After my first year away at school, it became apparent that Queenie's time was up.  As we prepared to sell her, I can still remember feeling as though I would never again own a car that would achieve the acclaim, Queenie did.  This venerate vehicle made her mark amongst the class of 1980 WNHS students.  She was a landmark in the lot and a timepiece in my life.

2/7/10 Discovery Island

I am an island of thought

Contained in isolation

Currents rush and recede

 As waves deposit and erase

Dependent on the tide's force

Brimming with beauty

Awash with treasures

Awaiting discovery

2/1/10 enlightened obscurity

There are times in everyone's  life when circumstances alter one's path
We may be forced to travel unfamiliar territory
We may need to tackle unforeseen obstacles that demand a clearance we've never conquered before
The process of progression may be difficult, challenging and at times undesirable
But the newly acquired skills and resources attained in the process are the hidden oasis we've had within, but never realized, until we were forced to enlighten the obscurity