My daughter’s complete breakdown before bedtime last night hit a special anger nerve. Not angry at her, or how quickly a mood can switch from great to pure China Syndrome. I was witnessing my anger in its infancy. Then I looked at where I am now with anger. The only difference I see is that my anger now wears a hat.
Character Defects List: Anger, Part Two of Three: Making a sweat lodge of my mind.
Step Seven: Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
Luckily, I have a very high metabolism. Very high, and very lucky. Without it, I’d be big as a couch.
Unluckily, I have a very high metabolism. Very erratic, and very additive. With it, my thoughts and actions can quickly perverse into something about as real as claymation. This is my number one alcoholic realization: my brain lies constantly. It lives for parlor tricks, misrepresentations, innuendos, and whatever mental scraps of garbage it can gather from the corners.
Then I’m off and running. In my head. On the couch. High metabolism. Over-active brain. Sitting. My id’s doing deep knee squats. Anger rising, and there’s only so much meditation.
Sometimes you need a controlled burn, as opposed to the uncontrollable flood. That’s how I’m choosing to look at exercise: it’s not just for normals anymore. To that end, I’m putting to paper a 90-day exercise-the-demons-program for myself, running and lifting. That’s as far as I’m taking it. Shoot for 45 minutes a day.
I’ve seen results in the past: run until I’m beat and suddenly I’m not nearly as jumpy. My crazy needs to get all tuckered out, and this another way to do it. It’s an action being taken to lessen the self-will; deflate the ego through oxygen uptake, and start seeing straight. Whatever it takes, right?
Next up: vegetables.
12 the hard way 