Tag: hope

Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore

Me: (CRASH!)
Her: (running to room) Did you fall down again?
Me: (from floor) My leg gave out from under me.

At the end of 2012, said that there was one part of the body that is called two different things, depending on how it’s held. This time, I’m starting out talking about my leg.

In The Man in the Iron Mask, one of the Three Musketeers – Porthos – was six feet from the ocean and freedom but found that he couldn’t move his legs.

“Oh, oh!” murmured he, “there is my fatigue seizing me again! I can walk no farther! What is this?”

He holds himself up by the sides of the wall before finally collapsing and dying.

When I was a kid, it didn’t make sense to me that he couldn’t control his legs. In my situation, my good leg had fallen asleep and my bad leg was just weak so down I went. While getting up, I thought of that story.

Started out this year by talking about how there’s no word that means, Becomes stronger when stressed and how a fella named Talab coined the phrase Anti-fragile. Which is good because there were plenty of low points this past year – some happened around us like my aunt passing and the Boston bombings happened around my birthday.

Some other pretty bad things happened to us personally, and I suppose that’s something I’ll tell you about some day.

But we had a lot of good times too.

There were the outings like to museums in the beginning and end of the year. And a trip to Bermuda in-between. We even stayed at a hotel just a few blocks from our house.

We also had friends come visit us, like the one that came down from Maine with lobsters in tow. And those I went to see, like when my buddy and I went to ComicCon for the first time.

And speaking of food, there was so much of it. Southern food near me, hot dogs in the middle of the ocean, Australian meat pies (but from NYC),  pizza around the way, and bar food in midtown, just to name a few.

And drink, both the usual rum fare like pina coladas in Jersey, daiquiris and the occasional Old Fashion to round things out.

To keep me from becoming a huge fatty-fat-fat, kept wrasslin and fencing.  On that note, my BJJ coach opened up his own school called Radical MMA in midtown.

It was a big step for him and a lifelong dream. So I sent him one of my favourite quotes from Lord Chesterfield that goes, Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.

I like it cause it reminds me that we have to fight the inertia and take our chances in life. To lose sight of that comfortable shore.

In the Man in the Iron Mask, Porthos struggles and can’t get back up to his feet. Even with the help of his friends. He can see the ocean but cannot reach it. At some point, that’s our fate, I suppose.

For now, I can still struggle to my feet and do.

And I am humbled to have friends and family to help me along the way.

It’s almost 2014, what new oceans can we find?

Her: (holding out her hand) Here, let me help you.
Me: (taking hand) Thanks. (laughing) Man…I’m so old.

Location: at the end of one year, ready for another
Mood: hopeful
Music: What are you doing, New Year’s Eve?
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One part of the body has two names, depending on how it’s held

The hand/fist is the one part of your body that has two completely different names depending on how it’s positioned.

In 2012, an article was published by The Journal of Experimental Biology noted that our fists are the human equivalent of a cat’s claws or a snake’s fangs – weapons created when needed and put away when not.

Other primates cannot make a true fist, whereby the hand is fully closed without any gap so as to create a small mass of force four times more powerful than if it were not shut.

If you think about it, we use one primarily to nurture and create and the other primarily to punish and destroy.

The hand holds other hands to cross the street, to hold pen to write, to reach out and help.

The fist is thrown in anger, clenches a gun to shoot, extends a knife to slash.

Yes, occasionally a hand can slap and a fist can sculpt but work with me here.

I bring this up as a lead to my 2012 year in review.

For me, it started off in January with me thinking that I cannot stop. In 2012, I didn’t really.

Then came February and I finally published my book, The Men Made of Stone, and gave a few lectures. It was also when I read about people that they say wouldn’t hurt a fly. But that’s never true is it?

In March I said that we are who we are because of to whom we are born.

Then I took off for Malaga, Spain with my wife – whom I finally said was named Alison – in April to give a lecture.

In May, I got a bike from a dirt scooter pro and went to a funeral and thought about the things that no one can take away from us.

Ended up on my knees again in June with clenched fists and someone offered me a hand. Also started teaching my fencing class.

Read about yet another shooting in July and wondered why we are so violent.

Went on another trip in August, this time in the other direction to LA.

Then got injured in September and had the operation to fix that injury in October. Managed to write a pretty well-read article on online dating while I was healing up.

Hobbled to a wedding in November but not before voting Democrat for the first time ever.

Finally, was horrified, but not shocked, in December.

Throughout this year – like all my years, I suppose – been able to split my life between the hands and the fists. While I’m grateful for my dumb luck, wish the times with my fists were less; neither clenched with rage nor sadness.

As for 2013, I hope for myself – as I do you – that you’ll have far more experiences that involve your hands than your fists.

Check that; I hope that for us, regardless of the year.

OK, see you next year! (That joke never gets old…)

Location: at the end of a sad year
Mood: hopeful
Music: What are you doing, New Year’s Eve?
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