What kinda sexy do I wanna be?

All self recrimination and attempts to "rise above" my baser impulses aside. If I'm going to be saddled with the 17 year old need to "be damn sexy", that should be defined. Do I want that lean, ripped, adonis belted body of a 20-something skater dude? Uh, no. Do I want to be built like Captain America or Thor from the Avenger's movies? Nope. None of that ever was or ever would be what I'd aspire to be. Don't get me wrong, they're hot as hell and I'd do them in a heart beat (okay, not the 20-something dude... that's creepy). But I have never actually envisioned myself that way.

The kind of attractiveness I am going for is more than the physical beauty of my ideal body. Sure, I want to be strong, lean, and most definitely a force of nature... but that doesn't mean bodybuilder or gym body. I want the body of a man who is physically active, strong, healthy, virile, and REAL. Yeah, you heard me right, REAL! As in looks like he exists outside of the gym and eats something other than protein shakes and creatine supplements.

I want to be that sexy, but not classically perfect, guy who has an aura of strength about him... not just physical strength, but mental, emotional and spiritual strength. I want people to look at me and get the impression that what they see is only the "tip of the iceberg". I want to be one sexy witch! That's right, a sexy man of mystery, not in the James Bond way, but in the Guideon (from Babylon 5) way. I want my body to be an extension of a deeper power and beauty... not a glamour over a shallow shell of a man who thinks only of his image.

Yeah, I don't want much... but if it weren't a challenge, would it really something worth working towards?

Keeping on track is so F*cking HARD!

I've done really well for the first month of 2016. Sure, I had some snack attack moments and lazy days, but I've had more good days than bad, obviously, and the results are showing. Now comes the hard part... that razors edge between fear I'm going to fail (again) and complacency that I'm doing "so good" (giving me permission to cheat). And then there's the problem of the conflict between my intellectual goals and my emotional goals. Yeah, its complicated.

Intellectually I want to return to being physically healthy and fit. A pretty ambiguous goal, so lets quantify it a bit. I want to shift my body composition to under 16% body fat. I want to reduce my excess body mass so that what weight I do carry about is productive, not a hindrance. I want to strengthen my body such that I support my structure and protect myself from injury... and such that I can do most any activity I want to (from hiking a trail to splitting logs with a maul). I want to reduce my waist size so that I can fit back into 36" waist pants, which will make shopping SO MUCH EASIER! I want to improve muscle tone so that when I wear something that "body hints" (not hugs, or is a 2nd skin) that I move with a physicality that leaves no doubt that though I'm not a "fitness model" I can handle myself and life from a place of strength. I want to lower my cholesterol and my blood pressure to my pre-40s levels.

Emotionally, all that is bullshit. I want to be able to peel of my shirt and turn heads. I want people to look at me and think I'm in my early 30s not late 40s. I want to get those second glances, not because I'm the "pretty boy" I was when I was younger (and though I didn't admit it, I was one of the pretty boys) but because I look like a "hunky man". I don't want to be a kid, I want to be one of those mature guys people look to and say "I want to be like him". I want to look in the mirror and feel like a f*cking boss! I want to be able to break some foul-mouthed shit in half, not that I -would-, but just knowing I could and others believing it is awesome (and I used to exist in that reality). Yeah, I want to look in the mirror and confidently say "I'd do me".

That's pretty pathetic. I am 47 years old and I have the same emotional obsession with being the "hot guy" as I had at 17. I keep telling myself that my intellectual goals are realistic, that they are mature and honest, and for the most part they are. But what's driving me? WHY am I trying to make these changes... no one is DRIVEN by intellectual reasons. Even pure academics push into the unknown not from the intellectual rewards, but from some emotional need that is tied to their intellect, the high of being right, the stubborn need to never give up, whatever... in the end it is our EMOTIONS that drive us, not our intellect. Our intellect gives us the means to achieve, but our emotions provide the fuel/power/force to get us there.

Can a 47 year old guy really accomplish something meaningful fueling it with 17 year old emotions? More importantly, SHOULD HE? I have shaken my head at and criticized friends who kept trying to fuel their lives from some adolescent need... being frozen at some younger time in their lives and always trying to "get back to" that point when they thought their were at their peak. How do I mature my desires without losing the fire of youth? I'm not sure yet... but I suppose that's the whole thing about self improvement & self discovery... its a journey, not a destination...

from www.spiritpond.com

Six weeks of slow recovery

I sit looking out at the swaying pines, the rippling lake waters, and the cloud laced sky and realize that as harsh as the land is, our little getaway in the northern wilds of Maine is something close to paradise. The beauty is not friendly, or is friendly in that challenging way of "if you can handle me, you can find enjoyment in my company." I know winters here are intense and long, and the beauty of the place is not the soft and comfortable kind we find in the mid-Atlantic piedmont, but the stark and edgy beauty here has a kind of zest for life and drive for being which is appealing.

I have not read as much as I'd planned. I have not written as much as I'd planned. I have not created as much physical art as I'd planned. I have not lost the weight I had planned. I have not recovered as much as I planned, though that is due more to having slipped on the stairs and re-injuring an already recuperating shoulder joint -- possibly enough to warrant therapy, hopefully not surgery. Yet, for all of that, I am mostly content with where I am (save the injured shoulder, which vexes me because it was avoidable and of my own making). Very little, in fact, has gone to plan... but in many ways, it is what I needed and as such is perfect.

If it were practicable... if I could find a rewarding vocation up here, turn our 2 season home (1/2 spring, summer, 1/2 fall) into a 4 season home, and enlarge it to make it comfortable for us to live in year around, I would move here without pause or trepidation. I do not fear the isolation, which is not so isolated as it was 50 years ago, nor do I fear the challenges of climate or the need to restructure our lives to flow the seasons instead of  fairly ignoring them in our present residence. It would not be easy, but I find my mind turning to the possibility distractingly often, and I have done 4 floorplans for a revision or rebuild of the cabin to become a year around home. All dreams, idle for the most part, but compelling none the less.

Next week we return to Pawsville, and responsibilities, and duties, and a world of demands and needs and expectations. I do not dread it as my wife does, but I look toward the inevitability with a pang of regret. It would be such an amazing life here... for five decades or so, not simply the 5+ weeks a year we manage now.

I won't be putting my life on hold for the improbability of making it real... I'm done with existing in a life "paused". Time to get things done and live... even if that life is one of a man older, fatter, and not much wiser. I can still make it a remarkable life... if I pay attention.

Gremlins of the Soul: Our Little Self-Destructive Habits

This is the problem with working on yourself... if you're honest, and have the eyes to see below the surface, a lot of unpleasantness becomes visible about week 4. It takes about 28 days to begin to establish new habits. If you're trying to establish healthy, self-affirming, beneficial habits, some time between day 21-28 you will start meeting resistance. Most of us will attribute this resistance to exterior sources like conflicting work schedules, responsibilities to friends or family, finances, or even injuries new or old which thwart us.

Of course, very few of these external pressures are real obstacles. The real obstacles, and far more insidious than anything we encounter outside of ourselves, are the gremlins. My wife calls them her inner demons, or the chorus (think Greek plays), or the dreaded "Editor/Critic". Mine aren't so big and intimidating in and of themselves. I have a tendency to be a dragon-slayer... you put a big, ugly obstacle in front of me (interior or exterior) and I defiantly pick up my sword (usually a stick or other far from impressive item) and charge, yelling, "YOU AREN'T THE BOSS OF ME!" And, surprisingly, that usually works.

No, I no longer have huge inner demons or dragons of despair residing in the shadows. My closet has been open (in all senses of the word) for years and there is nothing hiding in there for others to be horrified by. No, my self-destructive impulses know not to present me with something I can fight... I'm far too clever, both in a positive and negative way, to make it that easy. My little, warped, distorted, and dark reflections of myself are the size of gremlins, and infinitely more vicious. Individually and in packs they descend (or ascend?) upon me, taking small bites and claw slashes before scampering back into the shadows, out of reach. Over time, these little beasties bleed me out inside, tiring me, leaving me feeling weak and on the verge of collapse, emotionally, spiritually, and eventually physically.

They do little things, like insight me to grab just a handful of nuts, or a piece of chocolate, or a refreshing glass of milk late at night... after I've already had all the food I need, or should eat. They slow my progress towards goals until I sit down and just stare ahead instead of continuing to walk because I'm too worn out. And the saddest part of this kind of chronic battle of little disappointments, frustrations, and fears is that SUCCESS doesn't kill them off. You can't take a big boulder of accomplishment and squash the damnable little things under it like you can a bugbear. They just scatter in all directions when the boulder is lobbed their way, and it crashes down with a earth quaking force... that changes nothing.

This week the gremlins are attacking with brutal ferocity. Attacking on professional, intellectual, emotional, and physical levels. Any one of these wounds would be minor... I'd just bandage it up and keep on going... but I can feel that emotional bloodloss, and that always feels like "futility"... see the insidious in that? Not "hopelessness", that'd be too big... something I could defy... no, they always leave me with a sense of "futility"... sure, I can "hope" for more, I can see it is possible to overcome... but will "I" be able to stick it out... and even if I do, will it be worth it? Why bother?

Now, that being said, I should point out that I'm not suicidal, nor am I going to "give up". This is not "defeat", but only an acknowledgement that my life isn't all roses and bunnies (and yes, I love roses and bunnies).