It's simple, in that complicated sort of way...

I Can Be Violent, But Am I Volatile?

While I was standing by the sidelines in Jacksonville (see post directly below for the details) I constantly heard people whisper in shock, "Why would anyone do that," after each crushing run or tackle. All I could think was, how could anyone not want to do that?

I stood on the side of the pitch that rainy afternoon, the smell of freshly cut grass- the organic sweetness of Mother Earth manicured and lined for display- filling my nose. The touch line was three steps away. The air was electric with the coming of battle. It reminded me of the time before one of those thick, black  summer storms, when all nature's creatures seek shelter and the Earth seems deafeningly still. My legs loosened up on their own. My shoulders tightened in anticipation. I must've thought I was still playing.

As the match drew on, the smacking sounds of flesh colliding with flesh filled the stadium. "Oooohs", "Aaahhs" and gasps went through the crowd after each splendid display of courage, strength or daring. That's about when the people around me began muttering, between cheers and gasps, "Why would anyone want to do that?"

I can't say for sure. And what I enjoy about rugby doesn't hold true for each man or woman that enters into violent contests. For me, I enjoy the test. I want to see if I can do it. I want to see if I have what it takes in a realm where other people are also asking themselves the same questions and setting out to prove it. For me, it's a personal search, nothing more.

I have never enjoyed being in a street fight. I hate losing my temper. But I enjoy contests with rules that can be just as violent. Rugby is the best team sport I've ever played. Skin to skin, bone to bone, fitness level to fitness level, technique to technique, I enjoy seeing if my team and myself have put in what it takes to win. I enjoy the camaraderie of the game- it's amazing how personal (even intimate) contests become when opponents and comrades are not separated by equipment, helmets or nets. The bonds one forms on the pitch are the strongest I have ever been a part of in team sports.

I do not enjoy violence per se (although tackling a man cleanly- feeling the power rifle down your entire body from your shoulder to your toes- and standing over him is not without its adrenaline induced pleasure) but I do enjoy the kinetic chess of violent contests. Can I remain proactive and not panic when I'm about to be hit as hard as someone can hit me? Can I get up again? Do I want to? Can I play hurt when others would quit? Can I perform under pressure? Can I win?

This is what I enjoy about rugby. This is what I enjoy about MMA. This is what I enjoy about surfing waves that I'm not entirely sure I can handle.

My MMA school moved to Savannah. There hasn't been a decent swell in two months. It's rugby season and, to be entirely honest, I miss those guys. So, yesterday I put my boots on again, jogging happily out into the fray. I might get hurt, but maybe that's what's supposed to happen when we are truly enjoying life. I could get hurt walking my dog too.

I'm not getting any younger. I'm going to be 33 in a little over a month. For now, I want to take my philosophies out into the yard. I want to nurture my animal side so I can better understand myself. Such things will evolve as I evolve, but my need to understand is why I need to take risks. I look forward to the day when my life revolves around surfing, jiu-jitsu, family, friends and my writing. For now, while I can, I'll take flesh to flesh, bone to bone, fitness level to fitness level, technique to technique on the poetry that is a rugby pitch.

It's simple, in that complicated sort of way.

Russell Crowe Is Shorter Than You'd Think

I was in Jacksonville this weekend for a rugby game. The South Sydney Rabbitohs were playing the Leeds Rhinos in an exhibition match. Twelve thousand people showed up for the contest.

For those of you who might be reading this and don't follow rugby, this particular match was not without its fair share of hype, promotion and media hub-bub. See, the co-owner of the South Sydney Rabbitohs (aka Souths) is Russell Crowe. Yes, that Russell Crowe, the one with the beautiful mind, Maximus, master and commander... the guy that beats up concierges with telephones when he gets pissed. That one.

Crowe, an avid rugby fan (as well as player) and his partner took control of the struggling Souths last year. In a controversial yet popular vote, Crowe and his partner, wrested control of the team from the public and ran it as they thought it needed to be run. The Souths have improved dramatically in just under a year, a process well documented on their reality program shown on the Versus cable station.

Rugby isn't very popular in the United States. Although there are over 10,000 active rugby clubs across the U.S., the national team consistently struggles on the international stage where competition is at its most fierce. Americans are more enamored with baseball, football and basketball than they are with the game America's version of football was based on. Getting 12,000 people to show up at a rugby even was no small feat.

Rugby might not be popular. Russell Crowe is.

The match took place on Australia Day- the country's birthday. It was 55 and drizzling, more like an afternoon in Leeds than a day on the beach. The Tuttles from Orange County Choppers were there, delivering custom-made motorcycles they created for Russell and his partner. Greg Norman performed the coin toss. Arguably the world's best women's surfer and Australia native, Layne Beachley was on hand to lend her support. And there I was. In the corporate tent with everyone who was "important". I stood out in the cold rain to watch the match rather than rub elbows with human beings of stature.

Rugby fans and Australians from Hilton Head had organized a bus trip and kick ass tickets to the match. I hopped on-board. I just wanted to watch some professional rugby. Greg Norman came outside and stood next to me. I never said a word to him. Russell Crowe came over with a gaggle of people jostling for his picture. I was happy being as close to the field as I possibly could be, about ten feet from the sidelines. I didn't really pay him much mind either. He had his hands full enough.

The only thing I noticed about Russell, and the others, was how much people wanted to be near them... and how well they handled it. I know Crowe wanted to watch his team play, it didn't seem like anybody else realized this little fact. Maybe they just didn't care. I also noticed Russell Crowe was a shorter than me (I'm six feet tall) and I wondered why I expected him to be bigger. Is the magic of movies really that illusionary?

As I stood on the sidelines, a photographer in perhaps his early sixties asked me to hang onto his camera for a second: a heavy peace of equipment looking more like a futuristic weapon than a photographing device. I had never met the man before in my life. I held his camera so he could go get a picture with Greg Norman and Russell Crowe. I held a cameraman's camera so he could go get his picture taken for about 5 full minutes. I thought that was quite ironic. When he got back I asked him how much money I had been holding while he was gone. The weapon from the future retailed at seventeen grand.

A stranger gave me $17,000 to hold while he could go get his picture taken with a movie star. Would it have been worth it if I had stolen it? I resumed watching the match. A ball was kicked toward the sidelines. It went out of bounds, coming straight at me. It whistled past my outstretched hand... and drilled some dude in the head who wasn't paying attention. He was busy texting his pals that he just saw Russell Crowe.

I smiled. Made sure he was all right. And resumed watching the game. Life can be simple, in that complicated sort of way. But it always comes at ya fast.

The Souths came back in the second half down 26-0. They lost the match 26-24, but they put on a helluva show against one of the top rugby league teams in the world. Crowe would have been proud. I wonder if he got to see it.

All Our Empires Will One Day Turn to Dirt

It's the truth, time is inevitable. One day, everything we have done here won't matter.

If we work really hard (or are extremely lucky) history might remember us for a few hundred years or a few thousand. For example, we still study ancient Greek, Roman and Egyptian societies. We still remember some individual names too. Mostly, however, we remember them as collective societies.

Our families might remember us for a few generations after we die, maybe even our friend's families. But, the fact of the matter is my nephews and my niece will never know my mother's parents, never meet my dad's dad or remember sitting in my dad's mother's lap. Does a grandparent's legacy end with their grandchildren?

Does it matter how many people we affected in our life once those people are gone?

For me, it most certainly does.

I am a realist in most cases, a dreamer in others. I know that I'm going to die one day. I haven't grasped the "life in every breath" bushido code of the samurai yet (mostly because I'm an American and take what I have for granted constantly) but, the older I get, the more special I realize life is. So what does this "all our empires will one day turn to dust" mean? If it all goes back to ash, why should I even care what happens?

It's true, there is that perspective. You could say you don't care about anything if none if it will eventually mean anything and you might have a valid point. But, maybe, if history is so tentative and the future so fragile, shouldn't it all mean something all the time? Shouldn't we have life in every breath to truly take advantage of the time we spend breathing?

Would you rather lie on your deathbed with regret or a full heart? Would you rather go to the gallows with verve and vigor or die begging for your life and wishing you had more time? Would you rather have DONE something with your life or just thought about doing something?

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. If none if it will matter in a few hundred or a few thousand years, isn't right now the most important time of our lives?

They say when we die we can't take our toys with us, is morality and goodwill toward our fellow man just as transient? Which makes your heart more full? Wealth or humanity?

Perhaps I'm an idealist. Perhaps I am both a dreamer and a realist. (A drealist?) Perhaps I am simple in a complicated sort of way.

It is in the risks that I have taken- flirting with the possibility of injury, failure and heartbreak- where I have felt most alive. It is when I am able to give someone a hand that I feel the most meaning in my life. Perhaps that is just me...

Abraham Lincoln once said, "When I do good, I feel good. When I do bad, I feel bad. That is my religion." Is that enough to lead a fullfilling life, a life without regrets that will haunt us on our deathbed? Does it even matter if nobody is going to remember in awhile anyway?

What do you think? What does it take for us to rest in peace?

Because Bruce Lee Said So

While holiday shopping I bought something for myself. Which, to me, seemed pretty selfish. I mean, here I am supposed to be being concerned about other people and I'm grabbing a gift for me. It made me even more self-conscious of my self-interest because the book happened to be a compilation of philosophical aphorisms. Oh, the ironies that beset me.

The truth of the matter is, I debated on buying the book for some time. I kept picking it up and putting it down. So much so that I was beginning to annoy myself. And much of life, like my mother used to so colorfully tell my brother and I while we were growing up, comes down to taking a dump or getting off the pot. After 32 years I have learned to trust my instincts to a significant degree and my inner voice was screaming, "Buy the damn book!"

So I bought the damn book; "took a dump" as my mom might say.

Striking Thoughts is a summation of Bruce Lee's philosophies on life. I knew bits and pieces of the kung fu legend's life (Bruce actually died at my age) but it was more based in his cinematic roles than his line of thinking. I was curious, not only because Bruce overcame a great deal of adversity in his life, but because he didn't just play at being a bad ass, he really took the time (a lifetime) to be a hard, diligent, disciplined, thoughtful human- a true warrior. I'd be a real schmuck not to want to learn from a cat like this.

However, what attracted me to the book even further was an email I got from a friend after he read the blog post directly below this one. Striking Thoughts had sat on my bedroom table, untouched, since the day I purchased it. A thin layer of dog hair and dust had already collected on it. (Give me a break, I have three dogs living at the house right now!) I had treated myself to a novel after Christmas and was thinking about what to read next. My friend quoted Bruce Lee's perspective on life after he congratulated me on my "epiphany" below. Hmmm...

My inner voice was again yelling at me. "You bought the damn book, now read the damn book!" So, last night, I began reading the damn book. I'm not going to tell you everything I found because the point of the book is that it is written so that we may all find different things. But I would like to share some of the core beliefs of Bruce Lee, insights that gave me a neat little boost.

"He did not confine himself to any particular culture or era." And why would you if you wanted to truly learn? His wife says that his mission in doing so was  because "Free(ing) one's self from preconceived notions, prejudices and conditioned responses is essential to understanding truth and reality." I wonder, wouldn't such line of thinking be essential for both inner and outer peace as well?

Further reading from the editor, John Little, says that, "While Lee was a champion of individual rights and individual development, both of which stress the sovereignty of the individual as an end in himself, he also spoke of something deeper- the commonality of all human beings and the removal of such artificial barriers to true brotherhood as nationality, ethnicity, and class structure so that human beings could live together peaceably as independent equals." Yes, this is what I've been trying to learn for myself! Inner and outer peace.

Much more could be said, but what truly struck me was not that this book was for "the free spirit who chooses to live by the power of his or her own mind rather than relying on the dictates of creed or institution in making decisions about life and how to live it." It was what John Little said about Bruce Lee's use of the subtle aphorism to get his point across. "Lee grasped the point that less is more, and it's precisely for this reason that Lee's writings... gracefully transcend the plodding complexity of traditional philosophy." Don't you see? The aphorism is simple, in that complicated sort of way.

Weird, huh? But neat.

I'm not saying Bruce has all the answers and neither does he. In fact he, himself, says, "Independent inquiry is needed in your search for truth, not dependence on anyone else's view or a mere book." And I know I don't have the answers. But I am saying Bruce insisted on approaching life with an "empty cup" and it was that manner that he was open to everything around him. It was in that manner he was full of empathy, perspective and knowledge. I'm sure his life wasn't perfect,  but he did try to make the best of his abilities and his surroundings.

What could be more simple, more complicated, than an empty cup? Of course, I'm also reading The Zen of Zombie right now, so who knows what new "epiphanies" await when Bruce Lee and zombies meet?

It's Just The Cost of Doing Business

"It's the cost of doing business, man," came my buddy's reply. I had just told him I might have to foreclose on one of my properties. "Why do you think there's options out there that give people a second chance?"

My buddy had been through a bankruptcy. That was four years ago. Today he's doing better than he ever had in the past.

My buddy's a blue-collar guy; a hard worker who can't stand the fact that sometimes hard work can't bail you out of a situation. I could relate. If we dig in and fight, how can we lose? But the debt gets higher as interest rates grow and credit scores lag. It's the quicksand of the mortgage industry. Especially for those that have bit off more than they could chew.

I took a big bite. Bigger than I wanted, really. But I did it nonetheless. Therefore I must be responsible and accountable for the choices I made. I can live with that. It's the cost of doing business.

"The cost of doing business. The cost of doing business." That phrase stuck in my head. I couldn't get over it, around it or through it, Why? Somebody, I'm still not sure who, was trying to tell me something. Something more. Something on another plane. Then it hit me like a sledgehammer right between my eyes.

What's the cost of doing business as it pertains to my daily routine?

What is the cost of my perspective? My choices? My wants, wishes and dreams? On and on, so on and so forth. Then I had this epiphany. It was really simple, in that complicated sort of way.

Life is hard and I've been a damn fool for expecting it or wishing it not to be. How could I have not seen this concept? It's been in front of my face the entire time!

Life is going to have bumps in the road, hiccups and dead ends. Why shouldn't it? Who in the world is sure of each and every step they take along the course of their life? Why should we expect not to get lost, lonely or scared from time to time? Maybe even most of the time?

Much of my hardship has been existential. In that respect, I feel lucky. I can still use all my limbs, I don't have some virus or cancer eating away at me, I am not a burn victim or recovering from a terrorist rocket attack. But who is to say that those of us in this human community who suffer from physical maladies don't come away with an idea of exactly who they are or where they want to go and can live with the resultant inner peace? Maybe it is they who feel lucky to finally know that which many of us spending our lives searching for: peace.

I shake my head in pity at myself and my version of hardship. I have been a pussy. I finally understand what it means when somebody says it is better to have loved and lost? It is! How much emptier would my life have been if I had not taken a chance on love? What if I had never taken a chance on anything? On rugby? On surfing? On Peru? On writing? On a property company? On family? Maybe I wouldn't know hardship, but I certainly wouldn't know life.

I heard a line from a song today which said, "If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans." I found that line amusing... and true. Is life just as much about our destiny as it is about our choices? Maybe I've held onto my choices much too tightly. Life should be more of a flexible outline than a rigid plan. Instead of telling ourselves not to quit and keep banging on the door until it opens, maybe we should look for another way in or think about picking the lock.

All this is so apparent it becomes nearly invisible. I've been missing it. Jiu-jitsu teaches you to adapt to the situation; in fact sparring sessions in submission wrestling are commonly referred to as "rolling". Yes! To roll, to remain fluid, to adapt and react in order to find a way to win. The same goes for surfing. Surfers can have an idea of what the ocean will throw at them that day, but they have to be able to react to a fluid situation if they are to find the joy in it. It is impossible to turn to the right on a wave that directs you left; the ride will be short, suck and you will most likely get crushed.

Hardships? Ha! Many men and women would scoff at my "hardships". I don't live in a sector of the world where people try to blow me up for oil rights or chop my hands off to intimidate me and keep me from voting so they can continue to ravage my land for diamonds and gold. Instead, I live in a country that demands those goods, where much of my countrymen and women could care less where they come from or how they came to be there.

But I also live in a country where one can speak their mind and not be crucified for their ideas. I live in a country where knowledge is power. And because knowledge is power, change is possible. Ideals can sometimes become a greater currency than the almighty dollar. It rarely happens anymore on a broad, sweeping and grand scale, but it is still possible.

I have not had hardships. I have been a selfish cry-baby. I did not see the simple, I only tried to make it self-serving and complicated. It might turn out that a foreclosure could be one of the best things that ever happened to me. Maybe not. But, whatever happens, it won't be that bad.