…and a flyer!
My wake up view. Camped out in the inglenook with the kiddos and Margaret last night. Looks like there is some kind of cushion tower being built in the background there.
I like a good face cut now and then. Can’t miss every branch when you’re flying through the woods. ;)
Myles and His Fire
This is the perfect accompaniment for a snowy Winter afternoon work time. Go ahead, snuggle into those cozy headphones, turn it up, and let this warm delicious groove put you in a better mood within 3 minutes. You’ll probably want to repeat a few times, for good measure.
Go on now… try.
Double whammy. This was not planned. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and quickly plugged it in as I was changing clothes. I picked it up again and there it was. 11:21 11/21. Honestly shocked me. In a strange and subtle way it always comforts me to see it. Like I’ve stumbled into a stray existential frequency and everything is right and true and orderly, for the whole minute.
I see 1121 everywhere. It’s one of those weird number-y things. It’s also my birthday. But I really do see it uncannily often. It is also (blast from my past) the actual reference number for the Hebrew word “ben” (meaning: son) in the Strong’s Hebrew Dictionary/Concordance of the Bible—a fact I used to be quite proud of, and still think is rather bizarre. The odds! So I grab screenshots whenever I see it, which is often. Figured I’d Instagram ‘em. Not like they’re doing anything useful sitting on my phone collecting (absolutely no) dust.
Last Night’s Midnight Run Playlist.
I started off with Kanye and Jay tonight because I was genuinely inspired by Kanye’s passionate story and “dissertation” last night on Twitter. It was from the heart and I respected his honesty as a creative person. Plus, it has a great tempo and is a good kickoff.
I’m going to tell you a secret: Early Bob Dylan is amazing running music. There is just something perfect about the simple beauty of his stories, the gentle guitars, the trusty-old-dirt-road-feeling tempos, the whole vibe. Especially in the early years. Boots of Spanish Leather can break your heart if you let it, and you should. It’s a love story that only Dylan could pull off so perfectly.
For the second and third acts we turn to Bobby McFerrin. If you mention Don’t Worry, Be Happy I will punch you. You have no right to make any comment on Bobby McFerrin until you’ve heard his masterpiece album,Vocabularies (and CircleSongs, an early experiment that ultimately foreshadowed it). The whole album is perfection and McFerrin is one of the most under-appreciated geniuses of our time. I’ve listened to this album countless times. Give it a whole listen. You ain’t gonna hear it on pop radio! But this is real music that deserves to be loved because it is brilliant. As for the running value, the tempos, timings and changes are perfect; and the lulls and crescendos make for magical running moments. Test and see whether this music will not make you want to do more than just plunk your legs down the road like some monotonous running robot. This stuff will down-right compel you to move better, to be more graceful more powerful and smoooother.
The last song, Wailers, is important to end on. It is ten and a half minutes, so plan for it. Here’s how I work it (results may vary): I slow down to walk and breath deeply during the beautiful intermezzo/false-ending section that starts around 7:10. I consider this the end of the run. Then comes what I call the epilogue… When the vibe starts to pick up steam again at about 8:10, I start trotting, doing chop-steps, hopping, lunging, stretching arms and legs. By the time the drums come back in at 8:43, I’m running again. About when the choir comes back in at 9:10, I morph into what I call loping—until I learn whether there is an actual running term for it—sort of a longer but still fluid bouncing gait that probably looks a bit like a more rhythmic, athletic “ballet run.” Yes, very macho. It feels amazing though. Somehow the total change in gait actuates slightly different muscle groups and the effect is like a sudden boost of energy, like shifting into a different gear—not faster, just easier. I don’t go for too long there though, yet. It’s taxing on the achilles so I’m working up more strength so I can do it for longer periods. I’m loving it though. Anyway, by about 9:50 I’ve morphed again into a full steam sprint—flat-out, like a quarter horse in a hot tail-wind. I won’t lie or water it down: it’s amazingly awesome to run at your absolute maximum controllable speed and just push. When the song ends, and I know I’ve almost spent it all, I slow down carefully, slowing steadily with each progressively shorter step. Then I walk. Not fast, not slow. Head high with big hard controlled breaths which slow down by the time I reach my car. I drink what’s left of my tea, get in my car, and go home.
There you have it. My midnight run playlist from last night, and why.
Hey friends. Just wanted to say thanks for being a part of my life this year. It’s so fucking weird to have friends that aren’t “real” friends but actually in some way sort of are. It’s new! As in in the history of the world new. Think about it: It hasn’t been all that long that we as a species have been able to do this — to see into so many other lives at once and seek to understand them on some level, or just to watch as a spectator as they barely notice. In the big picture, this is all new territory. It is strange and beautiful and scary, but it is nothing if not new. And as much as I grate against the virtual world so often, constantly struggling to find the balance between real and virtual that works for me, I do feel a sense of gratitude for the connections. I want to not take those for granted. I’m truly attempting to understand this new thing in a way that perhaps I haven’t before. So anyway, thanks for hanging out this year. Looking forward to next.
—Ben