We do it, we forget, then we remember again. That’s why it’s a practice.

What’s a practice? Everything we do. Until we’re doing it without thinking. Until we’re doing it without thinking with proficiency. Until we’re doing it without thinking with excellence.

It’s all a practice.

Until we’re masters.

And the number of masters to have ever lived is smaller than we would like to think or than we would care to admit.

I’m a meditation practitioner, a philosophy practitioner, a weight lifting practitioner, a communications practitioner, a try not to be an asshole practitioner.

It’s all a practice.

We learn by doing.

We do it, we forget, then we remember again.

That’s why life is a journey and not a destination. We never arrive. Change is the only constant. We’re in a constant state of flux.

So we practice doing the things we want to do, the things we need to do, and the things we have to do.

We have to do, what we have to do.

It’s all a practice.

It’s why witnessing a masterpiece or being in the presence of masters of a craft has an almost universal emotional connection and appeal across demographics and generations. Rare isn’t the word for it. Language doesn’t do it justice.

What do we want to get better at? What do we need to improve? What must we learn?

We do it, we forget, then we remember again. That’s why it’s a practice.

Change is the only constant.

Anything that lasts forever, or even a long time, loses it’s appeal, becomes boring, gets taken advantage of, etc.

All experiences that we deem good or positive are that way because they don’t last. Same with the sting of the perceived negative.

There’s that yin-yang again.

The hot burning flame versus the slow burning coal.

Happiness versus contentment.

Be aware of it, experience it, then let it go. For better and for worse.

Trying to make things permanent creates problems.

Suffering arises because of attachment to desires as a wise man once said.

I had one of the most productive stretches of time in recent years. Woke up sick the next day. There’s that yin-yang again.

Then had a fun weekend with a friend is like a brother. But he had to go home. We weren’t sad at the end. We were grateful for the time well spent together and were both excited for what comes next for us individuality, respectively.

Letting go. Easier said than done. Like everything else, ever. But a little easier with practice. Just like everything else, ever…

Just begin, the rest follows.

Getting started is the hardest part. Momentum can sustain itself.

There is a reason that beginning is so hard in our minds. Inertia. We need the extra effort to get started. A great external example is a space ship. The rocket blast to begin the launch and get the ship into space.

I can remember countless times, the internal feeling of some invisible, probably imaginary force pushing against my body. Making me feel mentally, emotionally, and physically uncomfortable. How am I supposed to start something new when I don’t feel good?

That is a natural thought. That is a normal reaction. I doubt I’m the only human in the history of the world to experience a fantom, physical form of resistance.

Steven Pressfield, one of my favorite authors, has built a wonderful career on his wisdom towards the concept of resistance. His book, The Art of War is the book I’ve gifted the most alongside The Obstacle is the Way by Ryan Holiday.

Resistance is the rule. Consistent effort is the exception. If that wasn’t true, we would be living in an unrecognizable utopia, probably resembling the world in Star Trek.

I’ve been practicing yoga on and off for fifteen years. I have to say on an off because I can’t in all honesty say I’ve been practicing consistently for that long. I can probably say I’ve been practicing yoga consistently for two years, maybe three. The first time I did yoga in 2008-2009, I felt great. I loved it. I knew then I wanted to make it a regular part of my life.

Yet, I still to literally this very day, five hours ago when I did yoga, I procrastinated starting it for like an hour at least. Even though it makes me feel physically good whenever I do it. Even though it’s good for my physical and mental health. Yet the resistance to starting, is both strong, and dug in like a tick.

But every time when I actually start doing yoga, every time, before I’m done with my first down dog pose, I feel good, am glad I started, and finish the entire routine I set out to do whether I’m winging it or using a guide on YouTube.

It’s like that for everything. Maybe not everything feels good when we start. But when we start, and are actually doing the thing, taking action, putting forth the effort, it’s easier to keep going. It’s definitely easier to keep going than our resistance and procrastination would lead us to believe in our inner monologue.

Just begin, the rest follows.

There are so many things in life that we just don’t think about.

So many physical things that exist that we don’t think about. So many phrases in our language that we don’t think about.

Cost of Living.

The term implies that we don’t deserve to live. We don’t deserve to be alive. So much for the pro-choice crowd. Once the fetus is born, its on its own.

Self help gurus and the toxic positivity crowd like to talk about what a statistical miracle it is to be alive. Good for content, great for someone whose doing well in life to feel even better about themselves. That concept smacks into a brick wall of the externally, measurable, physical reality of any capitalist controlled civilization.

The paramedic will save your life and tell you that it was a miracle, then the clerk sends you a bill that puts you into medical bankruptcy. The politician tells you it’s a miracle to be alive in the richest country in the history of the world, then votes against universal healthcare.

Cost of living. Trade ⅔ of your life in the service of being to survive the other ⅓ while you’re not working. Five days on for two days off. Fifty weeks on for two weeks off. If you’re a worker with a white collar maybe. What is a weekend? What is a holiday? Sick days? Suck it up and turn your gear on the machine plebe.

Cost of living. You mean the mental and emotional toll that simply existing, maintaining sanity and decorum takes on us? You mean the unanswerable questions about existence? What is consciousness? What happens when we die?

The consequences of the body decaying as we get older as the positive alternative to dying young? The feeling of being alone in rooms full of strangers? Wondering if anyone will ever really get us? Not knowing who we can actually trust? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why does absolute power corrupt absolutely? What does living up to my potential mean? Are we alone in the universe? Isn’t there a risk of dying at any moment? That cost of living?

No, not the immaterial cost of living. The other one. The material cost of living. The one that says if you don’t trade your time for money often enough, for enough quantity, you’ll be left to die of dehydration and starvation on the streets. That cost of living.

Nature trail walks/hikes have been a life saver for me.

During the Covid lockdowns in America, I was blessed to live five minutes by car from a nature trail. I went there early and often during those dark days.

Sometimes I go on walks with my earbuds in, sometimes not. Sometimes I stay for hours, sometimes just an abbreviated loop that amounts to the traditional coffee break. But every time I go, I feel at least a little better than I did before being in nature.

It’s called forest bathing. What a blessing.

I can’t recommend it enough. I live in the midwestern area of the United States. It is currently too cold and too snowy to really even go outside for anything beyond survival essentials.

During these times I find myself watching nature documentaries. Or watching HD nature scenery with ambient music in the background on YouTube. Certainly not the same as the real thing, but there’s a calling to seeing nature that soothes my soul.

When I get off the main trail and am genuinely surrounded by trees, bushes, flowers, plants, grass, weeds, dirt, birds and bugs…I feel…at home…I feel…at peace.

Because humans are apart of nature. Just because we as a species want to poor a concrete layer over the entire planet, doesn’t mean that we didn’t come from nature. The forests are home. Nature is home.

The lessons to be learned from observing and being in nature, I feel, directly help combat the mental and emotional illnesses that are becoming rampant in the modern, developed, first world countries of the world.