On Completing a Long-Term Goal

I'm sure you've been waiting for my next input with baited breath. I apologize for the delay! Fact is, I've been swamped. It looks like the next couple weeks will give me a bit of a breather, though. I just completed a long-term goal that should help free up some time and mental energy, and it feels great to be done with it and to have had it go off as well as it did.

Some of you may have read my post on quitting ski patrol. While I stand by that decision, it didn't come lightly, and there was one obligation I needed to complete before I could quit: teaching Mountain Travel and Rescue Level 2 (MTR-2) in my region of the National Ski Patrol, and laying the groundwork for the future success of the program in our region.

That's me, bringing up the rear at last year's MTR-1 class I led down at Ski Apache near Ruidoso, NM. That smile hides the fact that I'm secretly jealous of Brian's (the guy in front of me in black) lightweight, streamlined pack. Lightweight backpacking might be a next endeavor. Stay tuned...

Why, you may ask, did I need to do this class? Why didn't I just make a clean break, right now? I can't tell you how tempted I was to just call it good, especially with my recent bouts of back pain. But the short answer is this: I said I would (as far back as 2008). The long answer is, well, longer. I had the unique combination of coursework, rescue, practical, and teaching experience to plan and execute. I was interested in doing it and I enjoy the subject matter. I had been planning this thing for roughly 5 years. Issues with my back postponed it twice (and nearly cancelled it this year, for a third time). There were a couple people who were interested in becoming MTR instructors and needed this specific class to realize that goal, and since I've applied to jobs that would take me out of the area, I needed to get it done for those folks.

By all accounts--from students and my fellow instructors--the class went really well. I plan another blog post to describe the course and show images, but this post is an attempt to come to terms with the joys and sorrows I'm feeling. I incorporated ideas from other classes I'd taken and added a couple ideas of my own, like staying in a yurt/hut/cabin, doing a good bit of ski touring, and a night-time search & rescue exercise. I wanted to challenge people but not destroy them. We streamlined the lectures to coincide with and fit into meal times in the yurt, and spend most of our time during the weekend in the field. I had a blast.

A couple students putting an improvised splint and improvised litter to use in this year's night-time search & rescue exercise. Tracy, the Queen of Good Sports, acted as "patient."

I'm particularly proud of this class. I've organized 5 of the MTR-1 classes, and been involved in teaching several more. But the MTR-2 class required much more logistical wrangling than the level 1 courses. The level 2 course required me to refresh some of my knowledge in order to teach it, and to dust off some of those climbing/rope handling skills I'd learned and forgotten. It's said that in order to truly learn something you should teach it to others, and it is from that point that I have approached everything I've taught.

While it was enjoyable, I'm glad it's over. I'm exhausted. I typically get family and alone-time during the weekend, which I need to recharge, but that didn't happen this weekend. I was surrounded by 7 other people who, while they are great folks, are not my family. During the week prior, I was finishing up the details for this class and wasn't really focused on anything else, including sleep. So, my body says I need some catch-up.

There are, of course, mixed emotions. I was planning this course as a last "hurrah" in my ski patrol career for a while. I've pretty much left the Pajarito Mtn. Ski Patrol, and my involvement in patrolling at all has been minimal for the past few years. Like all big organizations, National Ski Patrol has its bureaucracy and corruption, the details of which I won't go into here, but it's annoying enough to make we want to avoid it. That said, I have really enjoyed the Mountain Travel and Rescue curriculum in its breadth and flexibility. No other discipline in the National Ski Patrol education programs offers the same range of topics. The MTR classes cover everything from nutrition and clothing to avalanche safety and search and rescue. And I love teaching other folks (I'm looking to make a career change to teaching, in fact). The people I've met, taught, and learned from have kept me involved this long and make it really hard to stay committed to quitting. Still, it's time for me to focus on my own kids, getting them out on the slopes and in the hills, and give them the opportunity to enjoy the activities that my wife and I have loved so much through our lives. Who knows? In 10 years, we may all be patrolling together! I guess the bottom line is this: while I enjoy teaching these courses, my energy is needed elsewhere.

Here, I'm (in red) demonstrating one way to make an improvised litter from skis and a snow shovel, again at Ski Apache. Lizzie the Jack Russell Terrier and her owner (in blue) look on.

Take care, and thanks for reading.

How to Make Yourself Feel Great in 20 Minutes

Okay, so you're probably already skeptical of the dubious claim in the title. Heck, statements like that persuade people to try all kinds of destructive behavior. Pssssst, hey buddy, I've got this stuff...

...or, you're expecting a late-night info-mercial. For 3 easy payments of $39.95, I'll send you my special blend!

No, I'm not talking about any of that, nor am I trying to sell you something.

And get your mind out of the gutter!

I'm talking about...

...wait for it...

...taking a bath. TA DA!

This fellow is very contemplative as he bathes. I found this Daniel Caspera painting (Man in Tub) here, and you can find more of  Caspera's fine work here.

I haven't been a big fan of taking baths since I was probably 8 years old, preferring the efficiency of the shower instead. Except, that is, for that period between 8 and puberty when I was feral and just didn't bother with hygiene until forced (kind of like my kids, come to think of it). However, I  re-embraced the idea after a recent visit to my favorite chiropractor/healer. Dr. McIntyre spent 30 minutes adjusting every bone in my spine, then suggested that 1) I might be a bit sore the next day, and 2) I should stay hydrated, and 3) I should take a detox bath.

Anything "detox" smacks of new-age, Yoga, Pilates, tofu, Spandex, green smoothie, hybrid car, hippy nonsense to my Southern Idaho roots. Might as well try to sell a Ford to a Chevy Truck man, or try to get a "meat & potatoes" guy to eat a mixed greens salad with arugula and a dressing based on fancy vinegar. I think my chiropractor suggested this same mineral detox bath idea the last time I visited her, 2 years ago, and I was too stubborn to try it. But this time (just like last time!) I was indeed sore, and, rather than prolong the back pain--I was (am) on a fairly tight schedule with an upcoming ski patrol class, and life with pain just sucks--this detox bath sounded appealing if it meant I could move a bit more freely, and sooner rather than later. So, I took one. And I felt great afterward.

(This discussion reminds me of the old Volkswagen Passat ad from the early 2000's, where a woman gets on the radio and says, over ominous background music: "We were going skiing. It was snowing. We were in my Passat with 4Motion. We got there. And we parked," as in, well, duh).

Without further ado, here's the recipe.
- 2 cups baking soda
- 2 cups Epsom salts
- lavender essential oil (optional)
- a bathtub full of water as hot as you can stand without burning yourself

Here's an easy way to measure. 2 cups = 16 oz, so dump a 16 oz box of baking soda into the tub (with the water running), refill the box with Epsom salts (happens to come in larger bags), and dump that in. Fill the tub as full as you can, and slosh the water around to make sure the salts dissolve. I list the lavender essential oil as optional, but it would be a nice touch. I haven't used it yet because we don't have any in our apothecary right now.

Immerse your aching bones and soak until you're sweating; for me, that's 15-20 minutes. Sunday night I took a good book with me, which was a nice touch.

Need more proof? I did a 7-mile run Sunday morning (longest one in a while!) AND did a snow hike with the family Sunday afternoon. I was already sore when we got home from the hike, including an ache in the back. After getting the kids in bed, I did my soak. I was a bit tired Monday, but the soreness was gone.

I wish we had a bigger, deeper tub so I could soak all my bones at once. Or me & the Mrs. could, uh, detox together.

Maybe one of these beauties will grace our home someday. I am, of course, talking about the walk-in tub.

Take care, and thanks for reading!

------------------------------------------------------------------
In light of my anti-hippy rant earlier, I should tell you:
- I drive a Prius (but deep down I want another mid-90s Toyota 4x4, 22R-E engine, 5-speed)
- I attempt Yoga & Pilates every night before bed to keep my back supple and core strong
- I sometimes run in tights that have some percentage of Spandex in the weave
- I enjoy a good green smoothie (especially when made with my sister's VitaMix blender)
- Olive oil and Balsamic vinegar make my favorite salad dressing.
So, yes, you can bring an Idaho country boy into the 21st century. He may require some persuasion, but he'll eventually come around.

Do and Jutsu: the Way and Art of Music

Note: "Do" is pronounced "doe" as in the female deer, not "dew." 

A while back on this blog, I mused on my experiences in martial arts. I still love the systems of movement and thought that are involved in studying a fighting art. However, there are greater lessons--other than just how to fight another entity--to be learned. Two overarching philosophies that govern martial arts are Do and Jutsu (find a reasonable, and typical, discussion on the topic here). Recently they've returned to the fore of my consciousness, but with respect to music.

It is times like these / when I wish I understood / Japanese better.

To roughly define, the symbol "Do" is "the way" or the philosophy while "Jutsu" is "the method" or the art, science, or practice. In other words, Do is the the thought process while Jitsu is the activity. The Karate master Chosin Chibana (1885-1969) said succinctly that "Do without Jutsu is pointless." What martial artists muse (or should muse) on, though, is how we can apply the principles we learn in the study of fighting to our lives. I'm not just talking about how I might survive a knife attack in a seedy back alley, but how to conduct myself on a daily basis, how to face adversaries that are not necessarily violent or even human. As a corollary to Master Chibana, we could also state that you can't have Jutsu without Do (as Dave Lowry does in his excellent book The Karate Way). In other words, the mechanics are meaningless (and potentially dangerous) without a philosophy to temper it.

As I write this, it occurs to me that trying to describe the "difference" between Do and Jutsu is like trying to describe the difference between various shades of gray. It's also like trying to compare an apple and a pear when they're mixed together in a fruit salad. Martial arts practitioners often align themselves more with one than the other, but the concepts are inevitably intertwined in a fighting art. They are impossible to separate. And so it goes with music.

I've been teaching piano lessons now for about 3 years to folks of all ages. For kids, we of course start simple--a finger or two on each hand, then add more notes, then add symbols and dynamics and phrasing. As the music gets more complicated, we introduce "theory." In jazz music, the theory becomes a consuming pass time. We learn scales, chords, scale extensions, alternative voicings, chord substitutions, modes, and methods for improvisation. This practice, this theory, is the jutsu. Many people all over the world are very good at the practical matters of music, and it takes many hours of repetition and study to become so.

But we also learn to listen. We pay attention to the way the masters phrase their musical thoughts, and the scales, chords, or notes they use. We listen to each other, for spaces where we might throw in a little flourish, for our proper dynamic level to make the ensemble better. We try new things. We fail, we try again. We practice instead of watching TV or going out on a Friday night. We go to rehearsals. We pack expensive gear into the back of a cheap car and drive to a gig. We sometimes play for free. All of these activities are part of the Do, part of being connected to other human beings through an esoteric and spiritual process. It is no wonder to me that music is a part of church worship, regardless of denomination. Music takes thoughts and places them on a higher plane.

I love playing music outdoors. Here I am, in a photo taken by my wife, playing my Mom's guitar at my cousin's wedding in Idaho in 2005.

While the spiritual side of music is definitely present, I can't tell you how many people become technically proficient at an instrument--whether through piano lessons or school band or whatever--and don't stick with it. Maybe they enjoy it, but something else pushes it aside. I blame that on the de-emphasis of the emotional side of music. I have talked to so many people who said, "I used to play music, but I quit to do something else." Others tell me, "I wish I'd never quit." Why did they? I would argue that they didn't embrace the "Do." They were told music is a hobby, not a viable career option. It wasn't "cool." I don't know all the reasons. I do know that these thoughts have gone through my head, and, as a result, I'm not a career musician (I'm a chemist, if you don't already know). I played in a college jazz band for 4 years, accompanied a vocal jazz group for 2 years, and have played in various other "extra-curricular" groups since I was in high school. I currently play in 2 bands and teach lessons to students of all ages. Despite pushing through graduate school and pursuing a career in science, I've never quit playing as it allows me to attempt to express what I'm feeling and sometimes burn off a little steam if I need to. Devoted musical pursuit isn't for everyone, sure. But I'd say that, in many cases, people learn the technical proficiency on an instrument but fail to embrace the emotional or conversational aspects of the art. If you have an emotional connection, you will stick with it. You will practice the Justu and embrace the Do.

Another outdoor gig, this time at Fuller Lodge in 2013. I'm pretty sure local "man about town" Skip Wecksung took this one.

And what is music-Do? It is exploring the expressiveness of music. It is allowing us to feel comfort that is sometimes unattainable by our interactions with people. It is conveying emotions without words. It is transcending cultural and language barriers. It is practicing past the point of hitting the right notes. It is the quest for the long line, or the most profound passage. It is the greater enlightenment that occurs when everything falls into place, when you are past thinking and on to feeling, when your fingers play the notes without your brain. It is also love. If you have embraced something in your life that you look forward to every day, that, even when working through a difficult piece, you enjoy the journey, if the joy of playing comes through with the technical proficiency, then Do is practiced.

Thanks for reading!