Saturday, August 30, 2008
It's Both
I think we're supposed to learn to act both ways: many things at once and one thing many times. Put another way is multitasking and consistency.
I noticed that after a whole summer where I visited the gym maybe four times that the first week of the semester (seeming like a good time to recommit) when I decided to run, I could only do so for about 5 minutes, and that at a pretty slow pace. Not completely unexpected, and not a problem since I wasn't expecting miracles. But then yesterday when I went again I went for over 10 minutes, and with the treadmill set at a faster pace. Maybe the first workout made the second one easier, but there was another difference. The first one was sans tunes, the second, with. I could focus on the music rather than the not-so-fun part of a run that happens before the endorphins kick in.
Then again, today I was doing housework and noticed that even though it was tedious and tiring (and I was starving) I hardly noticed time passing. I just sang along (only because my roommate wasn't there). I knew what I was doing wasn't as fun as relaxing on the couch with a Wii controller in my hand, but I was oblivious to it.
I find this happens a lot - doing two things at once (especially when one of them is fun or relaxing) makes it a lot easier to focus. Sometimes I can't for the life of me focus my thoughts just sitting still, but if I go for a walk my thoughts also gain direction and momentum. It's the same in relationships: you have to think about both the other person and yourself. Life in general is a multiplicity of demands and activities. Often having many things to do makes it more, rather than less, difficult. But where there's challenge there's growth potential.
The reciprocal - doing one thing many times, or consistently over time - is also important, and maybe more difficult. It's simple to get excited about something for a minute or a day. To acquire the mindset of commitment to a process or ongoing responsibility for the long term, and to let that drive continual action and course correction is a worthwhile if demanding venture.
On an unrelated note, I'm reminded of one of the few things of value I feel I gained from my college English courses: we write to think.
On another unrelated note, we transferred all of the to-date footage for the closing chapter of the Jinglesthula saga to Jarrett's macbook for editing. We still have some to shoot, but it's nearing the halfway milestone (which, in terms of our style of film making, equals nearly ready to call complete).
I noticed that after a whole summer where I visited the gym maybe four times that the first week of the semester (seeming like a good time to recommit) when I decided to run, I could only do so for about 5 minutes, and that at a pretty slow pace. Not completely unexpected, and not a problem since I wasn't expecting miracles. But then yesterday when I went again I went for over 10 minutes, and with the treadmill set at a faster pace. Maybe the first workout made the second one easier, but there was another difference. The first one was sans tunes, the second, with. I could focus on the music rather than the not-so-fun part of a run that happens before the endorphins kick in.
Then again, today I was doing housework and noticed that even though it was tedious and tiring (and I was starving) I hardly noticed time passing. I just sang along (only because my roommate wasn't there). I knew what I was doing wasn't as fun as relaxing on the couch with a Wii controller in my hand, but I was oblivious to it.
I find this happens a lot - doing two things at once (especially when one of them is fun or relaxing) makes it a lot easier to focus. Sometimes I can't for the life of me focus my thoughts just sitting still, but if I go for a walk my thoughts also gain direction and momentum. It's the same in relationships: you have to think about both the other person and yourself. Life in general is a multiplicity of demands and activities. Often having many things to do makes it more, rather than less, difficult. But where there's challenge there's growth potential.
The reciprocal - doing one thing many times, or consistently over time - is also important, and maybe more difficult. It's simple to get excited about something for a minute or a day. To acquire the mindset of commitment to a process or ongoing responsibility for the long term, and to let that drive continual action and course correction is a worthwhile if demanding venture.
On an unrelated note, I'm reminded of one of the few things of value I feel I gained from my college English courses: we write to think.
On another unrelated note, we transferred all of the to-date footage for the closing chapter of the Jinglesthula saga to Jarrett's macbook for editing. We still have some to shoot, but it's nearing the halfway milestone (which, in terms of our style of film making, equals nearly ready to call complete).
Monday, August 04, 2008
Histamine and Halflight
I have to admit I'm partial to Jamba Juice. The one in South Ogden was disenfranchised and now goes by the name Shaka Juice. Same animal, different name.
I stopped by there to grab a smoothie on my way to FHE. We would be hiking Adams Canyon near Layton. First time for me. The first stretch comprises a set of steep switchbacks. The soil here is very sandy, making the climb a bit more difficult. Add to this the lack of shade on this section of the trail and the evening sun baking us from the side. By the time the trail leveled out and entered the canyon I was already drenched.
I've hiked several canyons between Pleasant View and Provo (Taylor, Waterfall, Garner, Cold Water, Ogden, Strongs, American Fork) and each one is different. The rock and water features in Adams are worth seeing. The destination waterfall is much smaller than that in Waterfall Canyon, but still impressive, and similar to Waterfall there is a cool breeze continually flowing from the falls area, which is a nice finish to an arduous climb.
When I visited Saint-Chapelle in Paris I had an interesting experience. The entrance to the building is on the ground floor. You climb a short flight of stairs to get to the second floor, which is a single spacious room that is several stories high. The walls consist of stone pillars joined by floor-to-ceiling stained-glass murals. When I was walking up the stairs I had my head down, focused on my camera that I was intently adjusting some setting on. After reaching the second floor and entering the room I paused and finished with the camera. Then I looked up, not ready for or expecting the visual impact of the sight. There were several spots on the hike of Adams that evoked that experience.
As I walked up the trail my arms were brushed occasionally by various plants' leaves. The edges weren't especially sharp - maybe just enough so to cause superficial scratches. The contact caused a very slight histamine reaction that was a welcome indicator that I had actually left the man-made world that insulates much of my existence and entered the real Earth. Having an experience that is a bit raw and wild now and again can be cathartic and a welcome interruption to uninteresting, sanitized order.
The hike required enough that by the time the sun set, prompting us to run rather than walk down the trail, I began to descend into fatigue and somnolence. Which can be entertaining. Like when we came out of the canyon and a view opened up of the crescent moon over the city lights I smiled as my tired condition suggested that all the stars were on the ground, leaving the moon alone in the sky. Or when we rushed down the switchbacks at the end the image came to mind of building small castles from the sand collecting in my shoes as I ran.
Back at the car we broke out the watermelon and deliciously unhealthy cookies. Parked next to us was a mountain man (complete with long hair). We passed him and his kids towards the end of the hike, and they arrived as we started consuming our sugary snacks. He was a talker, and told us quite a few stories about the canyon and the cabin he was building halfway up it, about the third waterfall that the trail no longer runs by and how to get to it next time we did the hike, and about his career as a worker for the telephone company.
When I got home I took a shower that was just barely warm enough to not be too uncomfortable. I sat there, too tired to think in more than fragments: exhausted, sore, wish I had taken my camera with, going to be sore tomorrow, too fun, relaxing, I should probably go to sleep now, looking forward to the next hike...
I stopped by there to grab a smoothie on my way to FHE. We would be hiking Adams Canyon near Layton. First time for me. The first stretch comprises a set of steep switchbacks. The soil here is very sandy, making the climb a bit more difficult. Add to this the lack of shade on this section of the trail and the evening sun baking us from the side. By the time the trail leveled out and entered the canyon I was already drenched.
I've hiked several canyons between Pleasant View and Provo (Taylor, Waterfall, Garner, Cold Water, Ogden, Strongs, American Fork) and each one is different. The rock and water features in Adams are worth seeing. The destination waterfall is much smaller than that in Waterfall Canyon, but still impressive, and similar to Waterfall there is a cool breeze continually flowing from the falls area, which is a nice finish to an arduous climb.
When I visited Saint-Chapelle in Paris I had an interesting experience. The entrance to the building is on the ground floor. You climb a short flight of stairs to get to the second floor, which is a single spacious room that is several stories high. The walls consist of stone pillars joined by floor-to-ceiling stained-glass murals. When I was walking up the stairs I had my head down, focused on my camera that I was intently adjusting some setting on. After reaching the second floor and entering the room I paused and finished with the camera. Then I looked up, not ready for or expecting the visual impact of the sight. There were several spots on the hike of Adams that evoked that experience.
As I walked up the trail my arms were brushed occasionally by various plants' leaves. The edges weren't especially sharp - maybe just enough so to cause superficial scratches. The contact caused a very slight histamine reaction that was a welcome indicator that I had actually left the man-made world that insulates much of my existence and entered the real Earth. Having an experience that is a bit raw and wild now and again can be cathartic and a welcome interruption to uninteresting, sanitized order.
The hike required enough that by the time the sun set, prompting us to run rather than walk down the trail, I began to descend into fatigue and somnolence. Which can be entertaining. Like when we came out of the canyon and a view opened up of the crescent moon over the city lights I smiled as my tired condition suggested that all the stars were on the ground, leaving the moon alone in the sky. Or when we rushed down the switchbacks at the end the image came to mind of building small castles from the sand collecting in my shoes as I ran.
Back at the car we broke out the watermelon and deliciously unhealthy cookies. Parked next to us was a mountain man (complete with long hair). We passed him and his kids towards the end of the hike, and they arrived as we started consuming our sugary snacks. He was a talker, and told us quite a few stories about the canyon and the cabin he was building halfway up it, about the third waterfall that the trail no longer runs by and how to get to it next time we did the hike, and about his career as a worker for the telephone company.
When I got home I took a shower that was just barely warm enough to not be too uncomfortable. I sat there, too tired to think in more than fragments: exhausted, sore, wish I had taken my camera with, going to be sore tomorrow, too fun, relaxing, I should probably go to sleep now, looking forward to the next hike...
