Co-coaching (wikipedia)

"Co-coaching is the structured practice of mutual exchange of coaching support among peers. This can take the form of a range of practices. One form involves each individual taking turns to be coach in half hour sessions."

I'm thinking about the stars and the moons, the planets, the comets, the celestial orbs and swirls which make up our night sky. Each one has something to teach the others, coaching them into certain orbits, encouraging certain momentums, weighing in their advice, amassing movements of wisdom and propelling one another into paths of synchronicity. They take turns: Sometimes Mars looms close and takes the lead, influencing strongly with the gravity of his persona- but then he'll zoom away, join the chorus, and it will be Mercury, or the Comet, or any number of other voices.

I'm thinking about politicians and hobos, friends and strangers, salesmen and grocery clerks. Everybody scratching their own paths into the woodwork of the world, but each coaching the others in windows of time, some long, some brief. "Have a nice day" said with warmth, "Danger Level Orange", "This will change your life," "I think you should stop and think before you tell her," "What are you wearing?"

The beauty of co-coaching is that it's the coaching of peers. We cannot ignore the affects of Joe Salesman anymore than we can ignore the charm of Venus. But we can take their pull and run with it, using it to direct our own paths, trusting that even if one coach is utterly inaccurate in his suggestions, that world is still a hospitable, synchronous place.

Bellybutton Lint (Melissa)

--My challenge, from Melissa of Bobo-isms: Blog on bellybutton lint, and be subtle.

People are multi-faceted. It's a good thing. When you meet me, you'll first see my body, my posture, then you'll hear my voice, then my words; you'll see the face I present, that social projection, and then you'll start getting to know who I am behind that projection. Eventually you'll begin to get to know my deeper self, you'll encounter my hidden strengths, my weaknesses, my eccentricities; my habits, beliefs, inspirations. You'll see different things, different aspects of each of these things, all the time, as I'm always changing, and forever undulating under the light of your perception. I swagger and meander, I shoot for the stars I am stellar. And so are you. All this applies to you too.

One thing you may not see for awhile is my belly button.

--

"We've got some promising applicants, Jim," Gary Kreller, CEO of Towder Inc. said to the VP, "and one of them stands out above the rest: Kyle Orion Turner-Gorder. Aside from his bizarre name and completely meaningless initials, his resume shows him to be exactly what we're looking for."

Jim Peters nodded. "Except, he's got some bellybutton lint."

"Oh?"

"Yes. His references are excellent, but when I called his previous employers I found that he'd been pulled into some company drama. Nothing dramatic, and nothing caused by him, but, there were some problems."

"Well," Kreller said with a forgiving shrug, "Companies have their drama. The important thing is that he wasn't the instigator."

"Well, no one asks for bellybutton lint, sir, but the choice to wear the sweater without an undershirt belongs to the wearer. He's been involved in company dramas at multiple companies. He always gets involved. He's doesn't propel it forward, but he doesn't avoid it either."

"Ah. A man who doesn't clean out his bellybutton."

"I'm not sure if we want a man who doesn't clean out his bellybutton. And especially not a man who doesn't learn to wear undershirts."

"Well, I guess Kyle Orion Turner-Gorder is out of the picture."

--

I don't have any skeletons in my closet. Nothing so dramatic as that. I imagine you don't either. What I do have, is a bit of bellybutton lint. Some things happen to me, and I don't consider them to be serious issues, so I'll allow them to continue happening without taking steps to prevent it. Much like bellybutton lint. Oh, we'll clean it out every once in a while. Get our life in order. Buck up. Resolve conflicts. But is it really worth it to us to change our habits? To wear that undershirt? To seek out lint free garments? It's just lint, after all. It doesn't even come from us. Merely incidental.

Bellybuttons, I'm told, can be a little sexy. You're seeing someone's vulnerable areas, seeing into their private life. Finding a bit of lint can be charming and endearing. What if you found lint every time you looked? You might start to wonder, why is this person's bellybutton always lint-filled?

But don't wear an undershirt for others, wear it for yourself. Just like having a clean room can lend some sanity to your life, so too, subtly, can having a clean bellybutton.

And guys, don't whip out your lint on the first date.

Pete Lammons (wikipedia)

"Peter Spencer Lammons, Jr. (born October 20, 1943 in Crockett, Texas) is a former professional American football player who played tight end for the American Football League's New York Jets, winning the AFL Championship with them in 1968, and playing in their victory over the NFL's overrated champion Baltimore Colts in the third AFL-NFL World Championship game. He also played for the NFL's Green Bay Packers."

Tight end. That title would only be funny to someone who knows next to nothing about football.
I have seen a dozen quarterbikes spike a basket, so clearly it's not funny to me. *snicker*

Pete Lammons. He played football. He played football for the Jets, and won! He helped them defeat the 'overrated Colts'. He also played for the Packers. He was in both the NFL, and the AFL. You've heard of him, right? Let's go:

"Son, love is complicated. They say life is like a box of chocolates, because you never know what you're going to get. But love, love is like Pete Lammons. It can be pretty great, it can help you win in life, but you never know how long it's going to play for your team. That young Harvey is making the moves on Christy? Well, like Pete, love is great for defeating those young colts, but only if you use it right. You can't rely on love, you can't use it exclusively, or else you'll injure it and it will spend the rest of the season limping around. Love is an important player, but it's a member of the team, and you treat it as such. And son, love will play for the other team, but that's ok, because, like Pete, love gets around, and every time love loves, it gets stronger. Maybe Pete played for the Packers a bit, but if and when he went back to the Jets, you know he was stronger and more skilled."

I've heard it argued that we can only truly love one person, or only be in love with one person, at a time. Maybe there's truth to this- it would be tough to be actively head over heels with two+ people simultaniously. But I don't think love is restrictive. If someone loves you, and then they turn and love someone else, the instinct can be to think, "Oh no! Less love for me!" But I'm starting to think that the more someone loves, the better they are at it. A weird thought, but, I think it's true.
The argument to this could be forms of love. If Pete gets a contract with the Packers, he might play a pick-up game with the Jets for fun here and there, but he's not going to be their main man anymore, and he probably won't go into the competitive bloodlust that he does in a 'big game'. If you're dating Joe Johnson, and he turns around and marries Jamie Lou, one can imagine his love for you will change a bit-- or does it? Maybe it's just the expression of that love?

If you're dating your best friend, and she breaks up with you, but keeps spending every day with you, keeps doing everything you used to do together aside from the sexy times, is that really so tragic? What have you lost? Are you afraid of losing her later, to some other man? But she loves you! She clearly loves you! If she loves another dude also, well, she may have less time, but will she have less love?

I don't know where I'm going with this one. Let's ask Pete, then I'll sign off.

Pete is playing for the Jets, and it's great. They beat the Colts. Then he leaves the team, and signs a contrat with the Packers. Maybe he still comes back for drinks with the Jets, hangs out with the guys, but he doesn't play with them anymore. The Jets aren't hurt for playing- it takes them some time, but they find a new player to replace Pete. And they aren't hurt for missing Pete, 'cause he's still around. It was fun to play football with Pete, but the fact is, they still get Pete, and they still get football. The main loss is, less TIME with Pete. But Pete made the choices that he wanted to make, so though the get less Pete, they get a happy Pete. The assumption that comes with anyone on the Jets regretting that Pete is off the team, is that had Pete stayed it would have been the same. But once Pete decides to leave, even if you disband the Packers so he has no place to leave to, he ain't gonna be the same.
No one holds down Pete Lammons.
No one holds down love.

And I know I used Pete as a metaphor for both love, and the lover, but think of it as an opportunity to comment...

Study Question: What is the difference between love, and the lover?

Ziao!

The 2000 Catalan motorcycle Grand Prix (wikipedia)

"The 2000 Catalan motorcycle Grand Prix was the seventh round of the 2000 Grand Prix motorcycle racing season. It took place on June 11, 2000 at the Circuit de Catalunya."

If you were there, it was everything. The rumble of the bikes, the cheers of the crowd, the scent of gas and dirt in the hot, summer air- but it was just one round of a 16 round racing season, one season out of about sixty so far. It was one of those days that consumed your world, your mind; a day where your heart beat to the rhythm of the engines, where you hungered for speed and were parched for victory.
It was one of those days- well, it was a one of these days. A day. 24 hours. We do this all the time. Day, day, day, day, every day a day. But the 2000 Catalan motorcycle Grand Prix! That was special! Well, maybe, but it was also a day.

June 11, 2000. I hate to rhyme 'sailboat' with 'boat' but that's what I'm going to do: The Cicuit de Catalunya's Grand Prix represents, yes, a day.
When you're in it, it's everything, but if you step back, it's just part of a greater whole: Your life. History. Eternity. Or is it? Which is real, the moment, or the spectrum? The physical, touchable, adrenaline-pumped present, or the dry, intangible timeline?

"Oh, Kenny Roberts Jr. got 25 points! Sure beats his 10 pointer last round!" We can look back into the past, laugh and regret, or make bets on the scores of the future (I've got my money on Kenny's retirement, whatever the heck that means).
Many people spend much of their lives considering which action will have the most positive benefit for their future, or pondering which of their past actions were mistakes, and how things may have gone better.
The alternative, of course, is to sit on the edge of your seat, all day, immersed fully in the experience, then go home, sleep, immersed fully in your blankets (unless it's hot). You'll make bets on the future if you feel like it, but that's hardly going to be what consumes your thoughts- the drive to the race, the race, and the drive home from the race are far too exciting to be worried over what will happen tomorrow.

But, but, but, people argue- the 2000 Catalan motorcycle Grand Prix was only one round! You've got to consider the whole picture if you want to enjoy it fully. Not to mention make sure you have tickets for every race, good seats, snacks, and the full backstory of every rider. If you just show up you'll be lucky if you make one round.
What about life plans? What about careers? What about choosing a major for school or deciding whether you should stick with the stressful job in order to get the promotion to the job you've wanted all along? These are all decisions which pertain to the future. Decisions where you assess your goals, your knowledge of yourself and the world, and make your best guess for how to get what you want in the most painless and expedient way possible.

Look to the riders. We can assume that they are pretty damned present as they ride their bikes, and I'm going to guess, just guess, that the winners are the ones who prepare most efficiently without worrying too heavily. They tune up their bikes, stretch their muscles, drink their water, and get a full night's sleep. They prepared, but they remain present. Am I presuming? Yes. I have no evidence whatsoever to support this. But I'll bet, statistically, that I'm right.
You can live in the moment and make plans. But they aren't plans, they are movements. The plan of a mindful person is an action. "I like to know things," she thinks, and she sits down to open a book. "I like to win," he says, and he double checks the connections on his bike. "I like the sciences," she says, and she registers for a college course in mathematics. And when his wife comes in with hot cocoa, he sets down his wrench and he drinks it with her, because he loves his wife, and he loves his cocoa.

Am I idealistic? Yes. But let's start with the beautiful extremes, find the flaws, and then back it up a bit into a delightful, functional life philosophy. We could do this with social and political structures as well, and it has been done- but that's a subject for another day.

I invite your comments on this. Tell me where the holes are, and I'll see about filling them up.

River Kym (wikipedia)

"The River Kym is a river in Cambridgeshire, England. It flows through the village of Tilbrook, to Kimbolton, and joins the Great Ouse at St Neots."

Are you feeling lonely?  Confused?  Spiritually dry?  Turn to Wikipedia for unlikely but full-hearted support.

I've never seen a lonely river.  The clatter of water against rocks and branches, the ten thousand drops flying into the air and caressing the surface of the water as the fall back down in that infinite cycle.  Excitement, enthusiasm, peace, poise- these are the qualities which make up a river.  It's just one river, but it's never alone for its component pieces and for the millions of life-forms it supports and nourishes by its very existence.

I've never seen a confused river, either.  Rivers are directed, focused.  They follow the path of least resistance, allowing the pull of gravity to shape their riverbeds and to temper their flow.  If two paths seem equal, there is no hesitance, no indecision- the decision is made be reality, in that moment.  Sometimes the river will split for a time, creating two different, equally zen flows, or the physics of the situation will become apparent and the river will continue along one path.

It splits, and it merges, it becomes part of greater rivers, it joins the ocean, and never is it more or less lonely, for it isn't lonely at all.  It is rich, and solid in its ambiguity, it is eternal in its impermanence, each moment it is different, yet each moment links perfectly and seamlessly to the next.

Some rivers pass through villages- they are witnessed, appreciated, and played in by people.  Others spend their whole existence amidst nature, more quietly supportive of the earth.  These rivers each exist in precisely the way reality is set-up, they do not argue with it, they do not wish for change-- change is everpresent, and as perfect as could be asked for.

I don't want to slap a quiet pond here, so I'm not going to go on much further.  Try considering this in context with your own life, though.  Each moment, you make the decision which best fits who you are and what reality is presenting to you at the moment.  There's never cause for regret, because your choices have always been the right choices for that moment.  New choices will be made in the future, also according to your everchanging nature, and everchanging reality.

  Your existence is rich, and dependent on nothing.  You are a force of nature as much as anything, powerful, unstoppable, unpredictable, and beautiful.  And yet you are steady and pure, and help shape the beautiful organization of reality.  

  I'll let you go on from here.

(p.s. I'm not saying anything about the Great Ouse.)

Afraha Stadium (wikipedia)

"Afraha Stadium is a multi-use stadium in Nakuru, Kenya. It used mostly for football matches and is the home stadium of Ulinzi Stars of the Kenyan Premier League. The stadium holds 8,200 people and opened in 1948."

Your ears are a multi-use stadium, receiving information for the known yet foreign land that is your psyche. It is used mostly for searching for specific information and is the home sensory organ for intellectual exchange and connection to your environment. The ears can process thousands of different kind of information,
and they opened the day you were born.

You think I'm joking? Football is as specific, inane, and ridiculous as sports come (this from someone who has never sat through a football game, nor who really understands the rules. I am at least aware of my prejudices in this field), and yet its rules come nowhere close to the minute criteria our brains use to filter what we hear.
Depending on our mood, our chemical state, our desires, our values, whether it is day or night, whether we are hungry or thirsty, we will hear and interpret a million different things from the exact same set of sounds.
I'm going to make up a statistic: We only register 1 out of every 1000 things that we hear. Only 1 out of every 1000. I'll repeat it one more time so you forget I just made it up: We only register, we're only consciously aware of, one out of every thousand things we hear.
And yet we have the conceit to think we really know what's going on?
We have the gall to think, not only that we know what's right for ourselves, but what's right for others?
We can't even process all the sensory input we receive in our own lives-- we don't even receive the sensory input from the lives of others, yet we still think we know what's best for them.

There are 8,200 people in Afraha stadium when it is full. Do you think they all know each others' names? If they did, do you think they'd be able to then deduce the names of the spectators in Safeco Field? In the Yankee stadium? Do you think they'd be able to accurately state the motivations, the reason why each person came to Safeco Field to see the big game? No. Nor would they care. They are at Afraha stadium to watch the Ulinzi Stars play football, and that's what they do.
Enjoy the sound of the waterfall, but don't think that everyone's problems would be solved if only they came and listened to the waterfall in the exact same way and for the exact same reasons as you.

I went for a walk today with a good friend of mine. She talked to me about how much she's learned lately by not speaking. By not speaking all the 'good advice' she had in mind to her children, she learned how they grow and learn on their own. By not criticizing her friend she learned to hear the unseen truths behind her friend's actions. When I listen to somebody with the intention of really listening, with the intention of understanding them, connecting to them, hearing their emotions, their motivations, without any ulterior motive other than to hear- I learn so much, and grow so much. As soon as I have a personal stake in it, the listening becomes tainted and filtered and I grow seperate and distant.

The Afraha Stadium in Nakuru, Kenya is a multi-use stadium. It's primarily used for football, but very, very functional for a wide variety of other games.
Kazam!

Opera Pia Dei Poveri Mendicanti (wikipedia)

The Opera Pia Dei Poveri Mendicanti was a service offered in Italy in the 1500s. Apparently Jesus' teachings included something about 'helping the poor and the weak' so the ruling patricians of the time organized hostels, infirmeries, and orphanages in order to do just that.

"The plan was to ameliorate the poor through discipline, education, and by finding them sufficient work; thus, helping the people escape their perpetual poverty in a modern sense."

The girls were kept outside the city, and the boys within. Interestingly, among the organizers, the women were frequently criticized for wasting money on "lavish festivals and dinners".

Ok. There's plenty of options here, but let's break it down and then build it up: A service offered at the latter end of the middle ages, honoring a higher power by helping the weak. A gender divide placing women seperate from the population centers while nevertheless allowing them to create community with their lavish festivals.

Well, that's just confounding!

But here's what I think:

The Opera Pia Dei Poveri Mendicanti is a young girl, taking care of a small dog given to her by her parents. "You have to learn responsibility if you want to grow up," said the parents, and what little girl doesn't want to grow up? Some children will ignore the dog, figuring that they can please their parents in other ways, by dressing nicely, cleaning the house, or saying "Good morning, wonderful parents" each day. They don't realize that it is not the parents who make the child grow up, but the child. Taking care of the dog isn't a chore with adulthood as the payment, but a step down the path. Just as the girls of the Opera are kept seperate from the city while the women throw parties to support it, so too does the little girl befriend her dog in private while her mother invites her friends over to meet him. In a sense, the pressure created by the visiting adults drives the little girl further into her possessiveness of the canine, seperating her from the adults yet paradoxically pulling her down her own unique route towards adulthood.

The beautiful thing about a metaphor is that it can go both ways. Though it's clearly the Opera which represents the little girl as opposed to the other way around, we can also gain perspective into religious charity by looking at the little girl. Do we get into Heaven by pleasing God enough that he lets us in, or is Heaven, like adulthood, a place/state that we come into naturally, in our own way, in our own time?
Contraversely, if we take the metaphor in its proper direction, and look at the fact that the Opera was a modern attempt (modern to those in the 1500s at least) to ameliorate the situation of the poor, then we can also posit that the first little girl to take care of a dog did so after seeing unhappy, uncared for dogs for all too long, and perhaps witnessed her parents' unhappiness there. Like the ruling patricians of the time, the little girl realized that the dogs would need to be taken care of, and so she did her best to do so.
That's hardly a significant insight. I'm going to have to apologize, I'm overhearing a fellow playing middle-man over the phone to conflict resolve between two friends. One more step towards heaven, one more step towards adulthood. Loud, noisy, beautiful steps which are distracting me from my intentional stumble towards hopeful epiphanies.

Let me remark more honestly, avidly, on metaphors, cutting out a bit of the bullshit that I've been spouting (sincere, well-meaning bullshit, please don't get me wrong).
I've long thought that a two-way metaphor has a lot of potential. Clearly it's kind of a joke to say the the patricians and the poor are a metaphor for the little girl and the dog, because the relevant thought here is that about pleasing god/pleasing the parents. But if a metaphor's direction is from the simple to the meaningful, then what if we find meaning in the simple? What if valuable lessons about parenting could be learned by watching Sixteenth Century rich attempting to please their god? And we've already seen that they can: As parents, we need to realize that child-raising is not about getting our child to do what we want, to please us, to agree with us, but to help them find their own path to adulthood. This is why we might get them a dog, even when we may prefer say, a pet rock. This is not to say that parents, or God, cannot have a personal relationship with their children, but that the joy from an interpersonal connection is a part, but not necessarily a whole, of the assisted path towards adulthood.
Yes, I may have strayed back into the b.s.-ing towards the end there, but forgiveness is a virtue and I'm tired, so please forgive me. However- please-
encourage growth; do not selfishly hoard affection and power.

Unless that helps you grow, of course. Far be it for me to tell you your best path.

Professor E.A. Smyth (wikipedia)

"Professor Ellison A. Smyth was the creator and first head coach of the Virginia Tech Hokies college football program. He coached the team in the 1892 and 1893 college football seasons."

The first primary leader of a system of projects, in the past. Well, clearly our friend Ellison A Smyth represents God, the head honcho behind many forms of life, volcanic eruptions, and natural laws. "For he coachethed the team for two years of recorded history, and wheneth the history stopped being recorded, his voice felleth silent to all but the avid fans."
You ever wonder why the last chapter of any given religious text seems to be the last time anyone hears the voice of God? I suppose it makes a sort of sense- after all, any time God speaks is worthy of writing down. The question still stands, however, why did God stop speaking in the fifteenth century, or two thousand years ago, or five thousand years ago as the case may be, depending on your holy book?
There's a million answers to the question out there already, but I think old E.A. can answer it best for us:

In 1892 Virginia tech's score was 1-1-0
and in 1893 it was 0-2-0
and the total score was 1-3-0

Time doesn't have much meaning, in the context of eternity, but every project needs a beginning. The coach comes in and gets the ball rolling, plants the seeds of the future, makes his influence known. After that, he lets his students and colleagues take over, and shifts into his roll as a quiet advisor, available for those who wish to come to him personally, but no longer speaking publically except on very special occasions. The question of how many years it has been is irrelavent- rather we should ask ourselves, "how shall we play the game now?"

And may I say, Wikipedia seems to have an awful lot (2, so far) of very short 'random articles'?

Essonistis (wikipedia)

"Essonistis is a genus of moths of the Noctuidae family."

Gosh. I don't think it could get any clearer than this. We live in a world of unknowns, but our minds work overtime to put names on all the bizarre and complicated faces. Putting things into categories within categories we hide them away, never fully facing the fact that we don't even fully understand that which we're categorizing. Like Adam, we hope that naming the unknown will give us power, but instead it leads us to think that we know something when we haven't even seen its true face.
Give me a world without names and I'll give you a planet full of very observant, very attentive human beings.

I admit this post highlights my own ignorance. If I were an entomologist I'd have laughed and said "This Wikipedia article (and a short one it is!) clearly represents Confucian ideals, for we have long and hard studied the Noctuide and the Essonistis to find out their proper fit and association with one another, and have refined to, literally, naturally, a science." This hypothetical entomologist version of myself also apparently has a leaning towards the eastern philosophies.

But I'm not an entomologist, and to me Noctuide and Essonistis are a nearly random if intriuiging collection of vowells and consonents, and that just shows me one more example of naming the unknown. Introduce me to a moth, teach me her ways. I don't want to know your name, I want to know your heart. Well, maybe I'd settle for a story about your hobbies...

As this is my first post, I should clarify something off the bat, for ye critics:
When I say "Metaphor" I am not limiting myself to "You are a ray of sunshine" style metaphors. I fully intend to use entire shittons of similies, analogies, allegories, comparisons, pseudo-psychoanalytical dream interpretation...anything I feel like.

Like a dog pawing through the garbage for a snack, I have a goal that I'm reaching for, but I'm not picky. Unlike the dog, I expect each sandwich wrapper I consume will unwrap within my stomach to reveal a lotus blossom, raising me towards enlightenment (or at least a sharper intellect) and with luck, entertaining you.

That being said, goodnight.