Recycled Project: Shelf with Hooks

With the kids both in school, and homework happening at the kitchen counter, we needed someplace nearby for backpacks and homework to call home-base. I immediately thought of the standard sort of Junior High Woodshop shelf plan, of which I've probably built 5-10 over the years in various sizes and shapes. Mrs. Big A, however, remembered buying some old table legs/feet at an estate sale 10 or so years ago and thought we should finally enlist them into service. The plan was to use the legs as shelf supports, attach a back with hooks to the supports, and attach a shelf across the top. We set a few goals for this one, though, which were: 1) use only materials on hand (not buy anything new), and 2) obtain a rustic look, 3) create something sturdy, useful, and attractive.

The table legs presented the first challenge in that there were no flat edges or square corners. I needed to create a right angle somewhere on the table legs so it would hang straight and flat against the wall, but I wanted to maintain the character of the legs. Basically, it was a matter of creating a straight line along one edge (the "top" of the shelf) then cutting a right angle to that line (for the "back"). I used the bandsaw for this task, a tool that I find myself turning to time and time again. Used carefully, it can do amazing things.

In this photo, the top leg is cut/trimmed, stained, and finished. The bottom one is rough, though you can see my layout lines if you look closely.

Next, I created the back. I have a small (and thankfully, dwindling) pile of scraps and boards I've acquired through the years, and enlisted this old solid oak board. After scraping off the old finish, I had this:

The back. I can't believe this was covered with paint. I also can't believe I got all the paint off.

The top shelf was a bit trickier because I didn't have any "rustic" wood that was wide enough to work as a shelf, or enough narrower pieces to glue together into a shelf. I did, however, have some cherry veneered MDF left over (my wife found a couple pieces at a yard sale years ago, and I used some on the Digital Upright project), so I cut it to the size I wanted and edged it with solid oak. I softened the corners and took a pass with the router to round the edges. I stained it all with Minwax Red Oak stain, which made the grain in the cherry wood pop out, but rendered the oak edging too red. I was left with a shelf that looked beautiful and brand new, and supports and back that did not. I had to make everything match. I stained the uprights with the Red Oak, as you could see in the pictures above, and treated the shelf part with a Golden Oak stain to add more of a brown tint. Not perfect, but close.

The top shelf.

When the stain was dry and the dust was wiped away, I measured and drilled the back to attach it to the wall, and treated everything with 3 coats of Minwax Rub-on Polyurethane (satin finish). I attached the hooks and put it all together with nails and screws.

Here is the shelf in use.

Homework center complete! Eventually that baby blue wall color will have to change...

It took around 4 hours total time to build this one, and a lot of time was saved because I didn't have to scroll cut or sand the uprights. It's hard to estimate the cost, because some purchases go back 10 years or so, but I'm guessing it's around $20. The hooks themselves have been recycled multiple times at various locations. Regardless of thrift, the kids now have a place for their backpacks and homework that is not on the floor just inside the front door!

Thanks for reading!

Your Corner of the World Is Paradise, Too!

Gig updates:
- September 13 w/D.K. & the Affordables, at Ashley Pond in Los Alamos, 2:30 pm
- September 13 w/D.K. & the Affordables, at the Cowgirl Restaurant in Santa Fe, 8:30 pm
- September 17 w/Craig Martin Experience, at Ashley Pond in Los Alamos, 5:30 pm
- September 20 w/Craig Martin Experience, wedding in Los Alamos

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Before we get to the meat of this post, I have a couple "admin" items. First, I post my blog updates on Facebook. If you aren't on Facebook or don't check it regularly, and you want to see when I post something new, sign up for email updates. All you have to do is enter your email address in the box on the right of the page and presto!--you'll know when I post. Second, feel free to leave comments at the bottom of each post, if you are so inclined. I welcome your feedback. Finally, feel free to forward my blog to anyone you might feel is interested. I write on a wide variety of topics that I'm sure will appeal to someone!

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Now, on to this week's thoughts:

A couple weekends ago, I reached a surprising state of near-bliss. I say surprising because the weekend started out a bit rough. My wife was sick starting the Wednesday before, which caused me to miss a gig Thursday night (it would have been an overnighter in Las Vegas, NM, the Mrs. was stuck to the couch in that virus-induced daze I'm sure we've all been through, and she needed help keeping kids on track). But, I got to spend some quality time with the kiddos. On Friday, I ran some errands, took a nice bike ride up in Los Alamos (Bayo Canyon, down & back up), and got a nice walk with the dog. Saturday saw a 2-hour ride on a trail I hadn't ridden in 10 years, which started and ended at the front door. I also got my son out on a trail ride. On, Sunday, we took a sweet hike down to the Rio Grande with the kids (their longest/toughest ever?). That was all while cleaning up/arranging my studio for piano lessons, finishing a shelf/homework center (more on this one later), shuttling kids, mentoring a friend in the use of power tools (no fingers lost!), working on my wife's studio work table (more on this later, too), processing some data from my actual day job, and building/setting up a lamp in my studio (look for this, too, I guess). Life is pretty good, and I had the thought that gee, I live in paradise!

I'm not writing all this to prove that I'm a busy-body with a wonderful life, but to contrast my rosy outlook today with that of several short years ago. When we moved to Los Alamos in 2003, we looked at it as a temporary stop on our life journey, a way to live and work in Northern New Mexico for a while while looking for other opportunities. But then we became involved in community--my wife taught for a while at a local elementary school, and she got to know other artists. I worked (and still work) at the Lab, ski patrolled, and played music. We did as much as we absolutely could outdoors. But we kept looking elsewhere. Car trip conversations would often begin, "you know, when we leave Los Alamos, we could go..." I've applied for jobs in Montana, Colorado, Wyoming, Oregon, and Idaho. We've fantasized about real estate in other parts of the country. We were starting to feel stuck in a place we didn't really want to be. The closest we came to actually leaving town, though, was this past spring. I applied for a job at Colorado Mesa University in their Biology Department as a lecturer, and we started packing and getting rid of stuff, putting the energy out into the universe that yes, we were ready for a change. Eventually, what we came to, though, is that we have it pretty good where we are and decided to stay put, town-wise. A month after making that decision, we found and moved to a different house, roughly 2 miles from the old house, and thus embarked on the next phase in our chosen locale. A week after moving in, I got the rejection letter from CMU, which confirmed our notion that staying put was the best decision.

And therein lies the point--we decided to make the best of it. We've always been pretty flexible, as long as we could have a few things--access to mountains and/or open spaces, other creative folks nearby, clean air and water, and a quiet neighborhood in which to call home. Beyond these desires and our creature necessities, we hold firm to the belief that everything else will fall into place. It might not be exactly as we thought it would be, but it will be OK. And so it is with our decision to remain in White Rock. We are glad we chose to stay put, but it took the experience of reframing to come to that place. We had to deviate from the notion that we were stuck--that our current locale was a temporary stop--and realize that we were involved in our community on multiple levels. Our home feels like home, and it is because we choose to make it so.

I hope that you are also glad that you decided to stay put, wherever "put" may be. I hope that you are making the best of your situation and living your life to its fullest. Everyplace has good and bad, every day has ups and downs. It's what you make of the mix that counts. If your situation is lacking, I hope you can find the strength and resolve to either see that you are indeed blessed in some way that you overlooked, or to make the changes necessary to realize your blessings. Taking some time each day to reflect on what is great about your life is part of the power of positive thinking.

In short, if you think that life is wonderful, then it is.

Thanks for reading, and stay positive!

Spry As An Old Dog

First, upcoming events, all with DK & the Affordables:
- Saturday Aug 16, Wedding at Pajarito Mountain
- Saturday Aug 23, Beer & Band at Pajarito Mountain
- Wednesday Aug 27, 6-8 pm, Santa Fe Bandstand on the Plaza
- Thursday Aug 28, Wedding gig in Las Vegas, NM (not NV--we aren't that cool yet!)
- Fall piano lessons start September 1
- Saturday Sept 13, Los Alamos Ashley Pond stage 2:30-4 (Science Fest), then the Cowgirl Bar & BBQ in Santa Fe from 9-midnight

The rest of the Affordables are also playing gigs on Aug 24 in Albuquerque and Sept 12 in Los Alamos, which I've bowed out of, but please go out and see 'em if you get a chance.

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Man's best friend on a ski trip in the Jemez Mountains a few years back. No, Rossignol did no pay me to put their name in this shot. But maybe they should! (I love those skis, BTW.)

A few weeks ago, I was walking with my dog, Rusty the Chocolate Lab, on the trails behind my house, and musing on the pet/human relationship. This musing came as a result of reading some John Gehrach (I just finished his book Standing in a River Waving a Stick which is of course about fly fishing). He was observing the relationships hunters have with their flushing/pointing/retrieving dogs. My dog and I are tight, too, and it stems from our time together training for search and rescue work.

Man's best friend, the much younger model, circa 2006, shown lounging in our freshly mulched backyard of sticks.

Rusty came with the house we bought in 2003. He'd been living with the previous owners of the house and was a year old when we got him. At a year old, he was pretty much a 70-pound puppy and barely knew how to sit on command. So, we went through basic obedience class. At the time, I was very involved in ski patrol, and was looking for some search & rescue (SAR) stuff to do in the summer. So, Rusty and I did agility training, wilderness tracking, and wilderness air-scent search training. The following winter, we tried avalanche rescue training.

One winter we trekked up to Monarch Ski Area in Colorado. Here you can see Rusty's hind end as he searches for someone buried in the snow. Avalanche SAR training and work is pretty tough. 

That was before I had kids, when I could spend an evening and a Saturday every week training a dog, when I could travel a weekend or 2 a month to train with some SAR guru or another (I did have the distinct pleasure to train with Elane Flower (who trained Sizzle, one of the best SAR dogs I've ever seen), Sue Purvis (SAR volunteer, excellent dog trainer, and all-around good person from Crested Butte), and Patty Burnett (who literally wrote a great book on avalanche dog training). I ended up with a well-trained, well-behaved dog. Rusty and I were a month or two away from trying for the New Mexico state certification for K9 SAR when my son was born 2 months early. That put an end to our K9 SAR career, which was for the best. I liked the idea of being a SAR dog handler, but the time commitment was getting to be a bit of a drag (and I had some music projects poised to take off!).

Rusty has been a great family dog. The kids love him, and Rusty helps keeps track of them since they are part of the "pack." Rusty ran, biked, hiked, backpacked, and skied with us. For a long time he could ski as hard as I could (A while back, I put up some pictures with Rusty skiing; you can see them here). But that's changing. He's getting to the age now (12!) where he is slowing down dramatically. A long walk leaves him pretty tired. The heat of summer requires early morning or late evening walks to beat the heat. He has a hard time jumping up into the back of the truck. But he still needs his daily exercise, just like the rest of us.

The old dog could still bound through the snow last Winter (Dec 2013), though at a slower pace than he did 5 years ago. Note the gray eyebrows and muzzle--he looks so distinguished. My gray hairs make me look "distinguished," too.

We ran into one of my wife's former co-workers (Debbie) and her black Lab (Noche) the other day on the "new" trails near our "new" house. Noche is one of Rusty's old dog buddies and is currently 13 years old. His hips are failing, he tore an ACL in a hind leg, and his muzzle and legs are all gray. Still, he was out for his 20-minute walk, same as every other day. As I watched the Rusty's and Noche's faces light up (and tails wag) when they saw each other, I realized that we all need a buddy, especially as we get older. I also realized that we all need to keep going, keep running, keep searching for that hidden rabbit, right up until we can't anymore. I also realized that 13 years old in "human" time is the equivalent of 91 or so "years" of dog time, give or take. I hope that if I live to 91 years old, that I'm as spry as these old dogs.

Thanks for reading!

Do You Take Your Music Seriously?

Writing this post actually brought on a nightmare.

In my dream, I had managed to land a gig at Pranzo, the classy Italian restaurant in Santa Fe. Except now, instead of an intimate setting on the terrace overlooking Santa Fe, it was a 100-seat performance space. I was supposed to play some solo jazz piano, and after my first couple songs, the audience remained unmoved. The booking agent and another prominent pianist from Santa Fe came up on stage, kind of like the managers and coaches of a baseball team when the pitcher can't throw a strike, and basically told me to up my game or leave the stage. Daaaaamn. Strangely enough (or maybe not; it was a dream after all), there were Legos on the piano, but when I started to build, they told me I couldn't play with those, either. It was not a happy dream.

Here I am, circa 2010 at Los Ojos in Jemez Springs, NM. do I look serious enough for you?

Anyway, on with the real story. A few weeks ago, while at a local restaurant with my family, I ran into a prominent Santa Fe pianist while we were waiting in the line for the restroom. He had made the trek from Santa Fe to Los Alamos to hear fantastic guitarist Tony Ceserano and the band he was playing with that night (Jazz Baziliero) at the Ashley Pond bandstand. We struck up a conversation in which I mentioned that I played piano in a couple bands. He asked me, "do you take your music seriously?", I think in context of his job as a booking agent for another local restaurant. He mentioned that he was always looking for new acts. I said, somewhat timidly, that yes, I take my music seriously, but I make my living doing other work. In the back of my mind, I was wrestling with the notion of handing him my business card (which, incidentally and somewhat ironically, I was out of). I was also feeling a bit insecure in my abilities--the only act I've seen at his venue was John & Barbara. John in this case is John Rangel, one of the best jazz pianists I've ever heard and seen, and he was accompanying a fantastic singer (Barbara). So naturally, I was thinking that if that is the caliber musician he was after, well, I have some serious practicing to do in order to grace his venue with my performances. At that point, our conversation was interrupted by the opening of the bathroom door, a quick "see you at the show!" and my turn in the restroom queue.

Since then, I've been wrestling with the question, "do you take your music seriously?" It is such a rich question! I take my music seriously enough to practice every day, to rehearse regularly, to play out on nights and weekends, to travel fairly long distances to gigs, to teach others. Heck, we purchased a new house in part to get more space to explore more music! How much of my life to I have to dedicate to music to be "serious?" Some of it? All of it? Do I have to suffer for my art to meet the criteria for taking it seriously? My days of jumping through hoops to meet the expectations of others has come to an end, so if that's what's required to be serious, then I'm not.

I guess I take music seriously enough to know what my limits are. Playing a solo jazz piano gig at a fine venue such as Pranzo is probably not in the cards for me right now, at least not without some practice and expansion of my repertoire--the last several years I've been pursuing ensemble work in rock and jazz. I'm awed and inspired by a variety of pianists nearby, including John Rangel, Andy Kingston, David Geiss, Fran Meier, Juanita Madland, Joe Cox, and Brant Leeper. I would hope to fall somewhere in the spectrum of decent players in Northern New Mexico because I do play quite a bit. But maybe I don't, and maybe I should be practicing right now instead of writing this blog post!

So, do I take my music seriously? As you can see, my answer is "Yes, but..." A "taking it seriously" answer might be "Yes, absolutely. I'm always up for another opportunity to share my music. Here's my business card. Send me an email and I'll get you my press kit." I'd be calling John Rangel to see about a lesson or two. I'd be enrolled in a music program. I'd pursue other music projects. I'd quit the day job.

In the end, answering the question, or at least the way I've limited it here, is a pointless pursuit (or "bogus" as put by one of my band-mates). I am pretty sure that my partner in conversation four paragraphs ago did not mean to limit this question, either. I have (and I'm sure he has) seen too many people ruin their lives for the sake of taking something too seriously. I've seen it in art, music, outdoor pursuits, science, and commerce/free enterprise. (I've also seen people blow things off, to their detriment, but that's another topic for another day.) We should strive to be well-rounded people. So, I guess I'll say that I take my music seriously, but only in the context of a living a full and interesting life.

And (chuckle, wry grin) I suppose I could clear all this up with a phone call or an email to the man who posed the question to me. Maybe I'll get that press kit together and send it along with my inquiry. But then I wouldn't have this essay to show for all my assumptions, insecurity, and musing. 

Thanks for reading!

I'd Rather Be Busy Than Bored

Two weekends ago (June 7th time frame), the Affordables made the trek to Tucumcari, NM for their 2nd annual Rockabilly on the Route festival. It was all things mid-20th century nostalgia--old cars, rockabilly/rock & roll music, greasy hair, motorcycle boots, rolled-up jeans, sideburns, tattoos, pinup girls. Two bands traveled from way far away (Norway & Colombia!) to make the gig. The Affordables played a morning gig for the car show, and then backed Elvis impersonator Justin Shandor for the headline gig. I said it on Facebook, but I'll repeat it here: Justin confirmed what I somehow always knew--a gig with Elvis would be an absolute blast.

Affordables rockin' with Justin Shandor, the Ultimate Elvis. Photo by Andrea Huber (taken from the Rockabilly on the Route Facebook page).

 Yes, I had a great time. No, I didn't get enough sleep.

A few nights ago I had another gig with the Craig Martin Experience (CME) at Los Alamos County's new stage at Ashley Pond. The stage is really nice, and creates a great venue for which to see an outdoor show. We were initially afraid we'd get rained out, but after a few mini-squalls rolled through, we were able to take the tarps off the electronics and swing the night away. It was a fitting tribute to Horace Silver--we played 4 of his tunes--who passed away on Wednesday, June 18. Silver had a hand in creating the highly enjoyable, groove-heavy genre known as "Hard Bop," which CME has gravitated towards.

A great evening of music with the Craig Martin Experience. Great photo by Britton Donharl.

My next gig is back with the Affordables at Ashley Pond for the Los Alamos Summer Concert Series.

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Well, we are about 13/16 moved or, somewhere between 3/4 and 7/8. All the bedrooms at the old house are cleared out, the backyard fixtures (patio table, rain barrels, etc.) are moved, and the furniture is all at the new place. What's left are some odds & ends in the shed, tid-bits in the kitchen and pantry, and building materials, a couple chairs, and my workbench in the garage. Probably another truckload, and/or another few evenings back & forth. Luckily we didn't have to move far!

I did some work at the new place this week, getting my studio set up for lessons (first one is Friday!), and getting the garage/shop set up for the myriad chores I have at the new place (putting my son's room together, unpacking, finishing the shop stuff, etc.). I still have some work to do at the old place (pigtailing outlets, installing trim, yard care), but the renters move in July 15. On top of that, our trusty 4Runner decided to throw an electrical fit while we were moving. Every time we open or close the back hatch, the doors lock. If you unlock it from the inside, no problem. If you try to unlock it from the outside, however, the alarm sounds. What a drag. I've heard from my mechanically inclined friends that electrical issues on a car are a challenge (expletives omitted). But, I get to tear into that soon, too! In the mean-time, I think I'll look into disarming the alarm.

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Also this week I defended a proposal that, if funded, will lay the groundwork for next-generation antibiotics. Bacteria are out-evolving us, making our current batches of antibiotics obsolete; our proposal looks at turning a pathogen's iron-scavenging machinery against it (stay tuned, hopefully). Many articles have been written about the end of the antibiotic era; this one from the CDC gave me pause (no, I didn't read the entire 114 pages, but scan it and you'll understand why we are working on antibiotic resistance at a national security lab). In my opinion, the downfall of humanity will be the combination of a lack of clean water, untreatable and contagious infection by some sort of nasty pathogen, interpersonal and international violence, air pollution, and crop failure. Wow, that went to dark places fast. To prevent this doomsday, wash your hands, go solar, love your neighbor, ride your bike, and buy organic food. (Oh, but I wish it was that simple!)

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Anyway, we are enjoying our new house. The kids spent the week with Grammy & Grampy in Colorado, so my wife and I felt like we were staying in a vacation home--no kids, can't find anything, don't know where the lights are, everything is nicer than at home, etc. But no, we did indeed upgrade, and it was a great move. Now we just need working internet access so I don't have to type this blog from the library!

Thanks for reading!

Upcoming Events for a Busy Summer!

After a spouting out a steady stream of philosophy and psychology, I realized I haven't been talking much about art and music the last few posts, even though we are super busy with both at my house. My wife has taken a blogging break while we move, but she's teaching a couple art classes this summer at the Fuller Lodge Art Center. Check 'em out!

And I haven't put up any pics in weeks! Here's one sent to me courtesy of the mother of one of my music students:

From April 19, 2014 at the Blue Window Bistro. Taken on Charlie Strauss's iPhone and abstracted in iPhoto.

And here is a list of my upcoming gigs/events:

- I'm only teaching a couple music lessons in June so we can move and settle in to a "new" house. 
- June 7 w/DK & the Affordables at the Rockabilly on the Route festival, 10 AM at the car show
- June 7 w/the Affordables, Rockabilly on the Route, 10 PM backing Justin Shandor, the Ultimate Elvis Impersonator, endorsed by Graceland! As a life-long Elvis fan, I'm really excited about this one.
- June 9 we close on our "new" house and begin moving!
- June 17 w/Craig Martin Experience, Los Alamos Creative District (LACD) Tuesday Night Series, Ashley Pond Stage in Los Alamos, 7 pm
- June 27 w/DK & the Affordables, Los Alamos Summer Concert Series, Ashley Pond Stage, 7 pm
- June 30 start Summer music lessons (heavy on the theory) in my new studio space!

- Sometime during the week of July 21 Britt & I are team-teaching a summer camp session at the UNM-Los Alamos Youth College called "How to Survive a Zombie Apocolypse." We'll go over foraging, shelter, urban scavenging, and other survival techniques.

- August 5 w/DK & the Affordables, LACD gig, Ashley Pond Stage, 7 pm
- August 16 w/DK & the Affordables, wedding at Pajarito Mtn.
- August 23 w/DK & the Affordables, Beer & Band gig at Pajarito Mtn.
- August 27 w/DK & the Affordables, Santa Fe Plaza Bandstand, 6 pm
- August 28 w/DK & the Affordables, wedding in Las Vegas, NM
- August 29 collapse into an exhausted heap!

- September 1 start music lessons for the school year
- September 12 w/DK & the Affordables, Los Alamos Science Fair Kick-off, Ashley Pond Stage
- September 13 w/DK & the Affordables, Cowgirl Hall of Fame in Santa Fe, 8 pm
- September 20 w/Craig Martin Experience, wedding at Fuller Lodge in Los Alamos

- November 22 piano recital

- sometime this Summer and/or Fall I plan to teach a couple fly tying classes, one for beginners and one for folks who have some experience. 

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In recent "completed jobs" news, my students put on a recital on may 24, which included both guitar and piano. For some of them, it was their first music recital; for others, it was their first performance on a new instrument. It was well-attended and well-received, and I made a recording of the entire thing; there were some highlights that I'd like to use in future mixes and recordings. It was amazing to me, though, how much thought, time, and preparation went into a 15-minute event (I only had 5 students for this one). I had to book the venue and prepare refreshments for a reception afterward, not to mention all the time the students put in over the past couple months preparing. I've always thought the recital process was a bit anticlimactic, but important--I trace my confidence in front of a crowd to my piano performances as a kid. The event took place at the United Methodist Church in White Rock, NM, which features a clean, beautiful, modern space with a nice Knabe grand piano (one of the nicest grands I've played in Los Alamos, incidentally) and wonderful acoustics. I plan a Fall recital for November 22, with hopefully a few more students participating.

For my recording I fed the microphones through a Focusrite Scarlett 2i2 interface into my MacBook Pro through USB. The piano mic I used was an sE 2200 a II C condenser mic and it worked great, though I did have to pad it -20 dB to keep from over-powering the preamps on my interface (that piano is loud!). For the guitar, I used a Shure SM-58 dynamic microphone, but I would have preferred another condenser mic to pick up some of the subtleties of the guitar's sounds. I'm thinking I'll get another sE condenser when I can afford it, possibly the mulit-pattern.

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On the art side, I taught a fly tying class a few weeks ago at the Fuller Lodge Art Center. I've been selling my hand-tied fly pattern earrings there for a while, and did a demo last summer. It was kind of funny, though--I didn't get a single person in that class who was interested in fishing! One student claimed that fly tying reminded here of beading (jewelry making) and during our class, fly tying gained the moniker "beading for bros." I've also taught a fly tying class at Warm Hearts Yarn, and plan to teach a couple more in the fall. Stay tuned!

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That's it for now. Thanks for reading!

Reframing Part 2: Pain Becomes Zen Becomes Gratitude

"Sometimes you have to eat the pickle." --Edward Espe Brown

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The documentary "Cook Your Life" follows Zen teacher Edward Espe Brown through one of his cooking classes. During the film, Mr. Brown recites a tale of his Zen teacher (complete version here). As a youngster, Suzuki Roshi was at a monastery with several other boys. They were served pickled Daikon radishes that were "off" slightly, an artifact of a mistake in the pickling process. The boys refused to eat them, but the pickles kept showing up at every meal for many days. One night, that was all they were served. Suzuki Roshi and the boys pretended to eat the pickles, but buried them in a deep hole in the garden. But, what do you know?! The pickles showed up on their plates again that night.

Of course, there's a moral: when faced with unpleasantness, we often try to deny, bury, drown, hide, or mask it. But it's still there, as it was with Suzuki's pickle. And you have to face it. Hence the quote at the top of this post.

My pickle has been chronic back pain, which I've dwelled (dwelt?) on plenty in this forum, so I'll spare you the details in this post. The question I keep coming back to is this: why can't I just get this fixed? Since 2008, I've consulted 3 family practice doctors, a physical therapist, an orthopedist, 4 chiropractors, a spine surgeon, and an acupuncturist. The surgeon recommended against surgery. The chiropractors made their adjustments. The physical therapists gave me exercises to do. The doctors gave me drugs. I've used various over-the-counter and prescription medications for pain and relaxing muscles (masking, drowning...), with various results (and yes, the prescriptions were made out to me, thanks for asking). I've stopped short of anything truly invasive such as injections or surgery, even though I had an MRI that showed a few bulging disks.

Fast forward to now. I'm re-visiting a book called Back Sense: a Revolutionary Approach to Halting the Cycle of Chronic Back Pain by Siegel, Urdang, and Johnson (here's their website). This book, along with 7 Steps to a Pain-Free Life by Robin McKenzie (of the "McKenzie Method"), were very enlightening, and challenged what I was hearing: spine surgery is the only definitive, final option for chronic back pain suffers. (My mother-in-law loaned them to me, which I really appreciated, but she wanted them back because their ideas worked for her, too.) Indeed, after I incorporated their ideas and techniques into my life, I have been totally pain-free for significant periods of time.

Back Sense claims that most back pain has a psychological cause. Stress causes tension in different places for different people. For some folks, stress shows up as tension in necks and shoulders. Some have gastrointestinal issues. Some get headaches. Others, like me, store stress in the hips and lower back. My personal theory is that stress settles in the previously injured body parts. So, it makes sense that my shoulder, hip, back, and ankle would hurt when I'm stressed because I've injured those spots before. And, pain and stress are a feedback loop--stress causes tension causes pain causes stress causes tension causes pain etc.

So, in an effort to loosen my back and body up, I'm trying to relax. The first step in this process is accepting that I have physical limitations and I need to change. I need to change my perceptions, my movements, my exercises, my habits. All difficult, but doable.

The second step is to visualize that these limitations are temporary. I've gotten better before, and I will again. In fact, as I write this, my pain today is less than yesterday, which was less than the day before, even without any pain killers. As long as I stay positive and keep moving, my pain will diminish.

The third step is to acknowledge what I do have--I'm generally healthy otherwise (other than cholesterol levels, which the Western doctors and I bang heads about--more on that later!); I can still walk and hike (I even ran a painful mile last Saturday with my kid!); I have a loving and beautiful family; I have several good friends; I'm sheltered, clothed, fed, and gainfully employed. This step is the most beneficial, and it seems that the universe has been supporting me here. This post by Ben Hewitt (a farmer tallies his holdings and realizes he'd be financially rich but spiritually broke if he sold it all), and the story of Travis Mills (introduced to me by Mike Rowe on Facebook) who, despite losing portions of all his limbs refuses to be labeled a victim (and regards himself as fortunate, lucky, and blessed), illustrate nicely the gratitude we should all have. Who am I to complain about a little back pain, in light of all my blessings?

One final Zen note from another of my inspirations:

Embrace feeling bad: By not wanting to feel bad, I make my bad feelings worse. By allowing myself to feel bad, and realizing we all feel bad sometimes, I give myself space to feel this way. I give myself permission. In fact, I embrace it as part of being human. Too many people want to feel happy all the time, positive 100% of the time, but that’s not reality. We all feel bad sometimes, and that’s OK. When you give yourself this space, and embrace the suck, you aren’t fighting with it. It happens, then it goes away, like a cloud. --Leo Babauta, Zen Habits Blogger

Thanks for reading!