To be a fool and to know when you’re being one are radically different concepts.  Only having made small steps back onto the path has yielded rewards beyond measure.  As I peck this pithy little update my house is aflutter with no less than three people scrubbing, sweeping, wiping and cheerily penetrating every nook and cranny to be found.  The laundry machine is humming, my extra furniture has been finally moved after sitting at my door for nearly six weeks, and there are projects to clean windows, and repaint in the works.  All this transpired in a matter of hours. 

With great joy I’ve gotten the news that a new home for the cats has been found.  One short trip to the vet for the girl and they’re ready to embark on their next chapter.  My chronic sniffling, scratchy throat, and paranoia that the next guest will be the one to let them out, will finally end. The little furry statues that stare at me and remind me of a past I’d rather forget are going to have new bottom lips to claw, new guest’s luggage to destroy, and new dinners to get hair in.  I love them, but I also loved other things too. 

I’ve started my notes.  I have a new list of 9 intentions.  I have a new todo, and some short and long-term shopping goals.  I am working on a get-out-of-debt plan.  I ran 6k.  I will start pounding out articles and audio edits for my clients again today.  Someone from Channel 11 wants to interview me.  I will breathe, and enjoy the moment.  It’s only 1:30pm. 

Sorry about the previous post, Universe.  My bad.

I really have succumbed to frustration in the past few weeks.  I feel that I’m allowing simple things to become barriers in what was an otherwise clear and straight path.  Work, and how I approach it, is but one example.  I heard a great question asked of an employee in another company here that was to the effect of, “How much longer do you plan on trying to please someone you don’t like, or respect, for barely enough money to get by?”  Eeek.  Fortunately, I understand that people are in our lives for a reason and why we don’t find them easy to get along with is simply that they represent those qualities in ourselves that we deny exist.  Or something else. 

I still think about my marriage – every day.  I wake up and she’s in my head.  I ride the bus, walk the streets, eat breakfast, she’s there.  It’s getting easier to live with(out), nonetheless it’s a presence.  I’ve been studying the idea of entrainment.  This notion that brainwaves synchronize between living things and that bond exists outside the boundaries of space and time.  Like the dog sitting watch at an owners grave I’m finding that I can rationalize “moving on”, but have yet to manifest that emotionally.  Here’s the thing:  Emotional healing seems to be on its own timetable.  This doesn’t appear to be something one can force, think into being, or shoehorn into a perception of reality.  Emotions may be an expression of the soul rather than a chemical response in the brain, and any expression of the non-local intelligence must be observed and dealt with with calm and peace.  Perhaps as I’ve been shifting from a place of peace and awareness back into frustration and everyday consciousness, the emotions that have been well-managed to now are being given the chance to cultivate again.  If you don’t keep the house clean and tidy the dust and grime will eventually make you ill.

I’m convinced now that every time I have a beer I am trying to escape, or better put, delay reality.  Yes, I love the taste of beer on a hot day (we get a lot of them in Central America).  Sure, there are times when I ‘deserve’ a cocktail.  But as I start pulling my little, yellow note pads out again, notice my maid’s not been here for a month, clackety-clack on this keyboard, feel the rust in my fingers, sense the grease and fat in my veins, and notice how I’ve dwelled on the past and been anxious of the future, I see again where I was and how quickly I must get back to where I was going.  My house needs a deep clean. 

I love my friends because they tell me when I suck.  “You’re blog is boring.”  “You haven’t written anything good since the Star Wars reviews.”  I love my boss because he tells me when I’m wrong.  I love my clients because they understand why I fall behind, but won’t let me away with it so long that I can procrastinate further.  I love my landlord because he reminds me that I share space in this universe with others and their agendas.  I love my maid because she reminds me of what it feels like when someone says they’ll do something, and doesn’t.  I love my cats because they remind me that I’m not ‘there’ yet.  There’s hair everywhere.

Write something every day.  Make lists.  Say ‘yes’ more than ‘no’.  Don’t over commit.  Make time for yourself.  Meditate.  Express gratitude.  Yield.  Run.  Hike.  Create.  Play the guitar.  Learn a new inversion on piano.  Shut up.  Where’d I go?

At times I enjoy taking various translations of the Tao Te Ching and reformatting them into prose.  This view of the ancient texts, I feel, provides insights otherwise not readily considered by the reader.  Having allowed some events in recent days to cause me anxiety, I felt a revisit of the second verse might bring some wisdom.  I thought I’d share my studies this day.

"All in the world know the beauty of the beautiful, and in doing this they have (the idea of) what ugliness is; they all know the skill of the skillful, and in doing this they have (the idea of) what the want of skill is.

So it is that existence and non-existence give birth the one to (the idea of) the other; that difficulty and ease produce the one (the idea of) the other; that length and shortness fashion out the one the figure of the other; that (the ideas of) height and lowness arise from the contrast of the one with the other; that the musical notes and tones become harmonious through the relation of one with another; and that being before and behind give the idea of one following another. Therefore the sage manages affairs without doing anything, and conveys his instructions without the use of speech. All things spring up, and there is not one which declines to show itself; they grow, and there is no claim made for their ownership; they go through their processes, and there is no expectation (of a reward for the results). The work is accomplished, and there is no resting in it (as an achievement). The work is done, but how no one can see; 'Tis this that makes the power not cease to be."

by Lao-tzu

J. Legge, Translator

(Sacred Books of the East, Vol 39) [1891]

Can I really disconnect from my work and life for 11 days?

That’s a huge question.  On one hand, it is arrogant to believe that I’m so greatly needed that the world would stop spinning if I got off it for a couple days.  What sort of work do I manage so poorly that it couldn’t be self-sustaining for a few revolutions of the planet?  It’s not the “never take a vacation unless you want to show them how unnecessary you are” silliness.  On the other hand, I worry making this commitment will demonstrate how dependent I’ve become on being needed.  Perhaps this is as necessary for them to be without me as I without them. 

Am I prepared to see my soul in its raw, naked form?

I think we’re really good at living at the level of the “local I”.  The flesh, mind, patterns, and ego that get us through the day-to-day drudgery of living on a local plane are indeed sufficient tools for getting the job done – even if just barely.  This meaty vehicle comes with a need to be praised, qualified, craves attention, feels above or beneath others, and believes it to be apart from everyone and everything.  It has the blind audacity to be a wave on a great ocean and declare itself to be the ocean.   It is a sunbeam through a window declaring itself to be the sun.  Within this is a soul quietly observing the absurdity of our self-imposed dramas, laughing at our ignorance, and wanting to whisper in our ear that the secrets we think are so well hidden are in fact carried inside us at all times.  I wonder if I’ve only ever glimpsed “me”, and worry that I’m not sure I’m willing to admit that Corey Coates is not who I really am.  It’s nice to think our personality, our relationships, our stuff, is who we are.  But we cower in the corner and deny that we know it isn’t. 

Is the daily sense of connectedness I seek already with me?

I go back to the simple notion brought up over tea that I’m already being who I was destined to be and that (as I preach but rarely consider) the path is the destiny.  I’m on it; therefore I’ve always just arrived.  Going to this retreat does not bring with it unrealistic expectations.  I’m not imagining that I’ll come out enlightened or somehow changed.  I still refuse to wear a leather bracelet and grow a ponytail, though I am going online to look at Jedi costumes to wear after this posting.  But I suppose I’m afraid that I’ll spend 11 days in the jungle to discover what I’m already on the path to understanding.  Perhaps this is a necessary step. 

There are a great many things conspiring around me and there are many hints I’ve not heeded.  I keep cycling back to fear, addictions, failed relationships, anxiety, etc.  How can I make the perfection of my mornings carry through the day?  Why have I stopped running again?  How many times am I going to fill my fridge with the ingredients of success and stop by the restaurants to gorge on the foods of failure?  Next week is my one-year anniversary for the day I stopped smoking.  The reason I did is because my very being wanted to stop.  I suppose I have to be patient and work towards coming to that sensation with some of the other matters.

I don’t know.  As always, that’s the point.

[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vipassan%C4%81

I’ve been living lean since Friday of last week.  I spent my last $4 recently and have been using this opportunity to align myself more with the Great Way (Tao).  It’s been an up and down journey thus far.  I sit here in my home now with no power, no Internet, and boiling a pot of rice that I had to borrow from my neighbors.  I’m seeing abundance around me and somehow feel increasingly grateful for the way our universe seems to provide just-in-time nourishment, gifts, and connections provided that we open ourselves to them.  Modesty may be the lesson learned here, but I’m not yet sure.  My mini odyssey of miracles has been most intriguing.  Though pseudo-magical thinking and all its trappings has admittedly been a factor, I’m still convinced I’m on the right path, and that my financial woes are perfectly timed.

I adore fresh fruit.  Costa Rica is a bounty of tropical wonders and the fruit is no exception.  A few days back I was a touch remiss that I hadn’t the means to grab a mango for breakfast.  The craving for this specific fruit weighed heavily on my mind.  After venturing out and eyeing up the neighboring trees for a reachable piece, I had all but given up on the possibility.  When I returned from my errands and began the ascent up my hill, a little, yellow and green, ovular object started rolling toward me.  Its trajectory was unmistakable and I denied with every closing meter what I knew in my heart it was.  This little, perfectly ripe mango had just fallen from a tree, found its way undisturbed to the middle of the road, and was making a beeline for me.  I knelt down, extended my arm, laid my fingers on the road, and waiting patiently until it finally found its way into my palm.  With a gentle grasp I welcomed this gift and thanked whatever or whoever could do such a thing in such sublime, poetic fashion.  I placed it in my bag and continued toward my home – somewhat slower in pace and heavier in gratitude.

Yesterday I was waiting for my second bus to arrive.  I was travelling to a class in Lindora.  Though the skies threatened rain, it didn’t.  I was counting my change.  I had just enough to get to class and return.  There would be little to spare, and certainly not enough to buy dinner.  Yet another crossroads was before me where I could choose to focus on scarcity, or trust in abundance.  I chose the latter.  I gazed around and my eyes were drawn to two golden discs nestled in the dirt.  Someone had dropped a 500 and 100 colones coin.  That $1.20 would be enough to buy a cup of noodles and small can of mixed vegetables for dinner. 

I’ll spare you of the tale where I meditated by the river and shook a mandarin tree this morning, but I’m sure you get the gist.  I’m really trying to tap into a greater understanding of the different results that come with forcing and allowing.  I’m seeing more and more that those around me who force and mold reality to their wants may indeed meet their physical objectives.  But the wake of suffering that trails behind them is devastating.  They don’t see that hammering that round peg into a square hole is a kludge solution to a spiritual problem.  Maybe material things are not finite at all.  Only the quality of basic building blocks is.  We can grab a prebuilt chunk of the universe in the form of money or a Big Mac, or we can intend for it to come into our path and allow the universe to manifest this desire in rhythm with natural forces and in concert with others. 

Yesterday I borrowed $10 from a friend to have lunch.  I promptly felt better, yet worse.  I grabbed a Monterey Chalupa Slider from Taco Bell and sat in my living room with an ear-to-ear grin reserved for the proverbial cat and his canary.  Spewing hot sauce about my Fiesta Fries, sucking back my oversized diet Pepsi, watching Fox news - I was in heaven.  Or, so I thought.  The expected payment I had leveraged this loan against never came.  I could have spent that money of a bag of rice, and perhaps some vegetables.  Instead I rushed in the closest fast-food chain I could find and fed my pithy ego. 

I’m nowhere further in this posting toward providing insight or answers.  I am, however, quite certain that I’m not even close to the level of humility, piety, or compassion that comes with calling oneself aligned with the Great Way.  I’ve got a long way to go.  Fortunately, the abundance and provisions I require literally grow on trees.

The power just came back on.  Back to reality, whatever that is.

Excess has once more reared its way into my path and the punishment shall be swift and brash.  Sometimes the system needs a reboot and I’m about to hit that switch.  I have chosen to wrap up this month with some deprivation and reflection.  Old Mother Hubburd’s cupboards are bare and I’m seeing it as a great opportunity to start fresh.  I’ve been on a fresh food kick lately, meaning that my freezer and pantry are rarely stocked.  Only a smattering of assorted fruits, vegetables, and staples are to be found in my cocina.  When I feel like meat I’ll head down to the butcher and select something to take home and cook that night.  After weeks of beer, eating out, casinos, and general tomfoolery, I’ve decided it’s time to cleanse a bit and send my ego a strong message.  So, what are we left with and how’s this going to work?  Simple - I have rice and vodka.  I’m heading out for my last cappuccino this afternoon and taking a nine-day hiatus from the pleasures of food and drink.  Rice and tea for nine days is the menu.

Now before the emails start rolling in, and after your snickering has been quelled, I’ve wanted to try this for a while.  I really am making application to the meditation retreat this year and will be required to stop eating entirely before noon for 11 days.  Furthermore, I truly have been radically gluttonous of late and do not wish to simply rid myself of guilt by rationalizing it away.  There is a lesson to be learned here about moderation that I feel can only be experienced by swinging the pendulum to the other extreme.  It’s not the guilt of overspending or partying too hard.  Rather there is a daily shame gnawing at me when I eat as I shouldn’t, enjoy a second drink when I need to meditate instead, or start breaking the rules of my frame.  I truly sense that eating after sundown is not necessarily the ideal for my metabolism.  I feel heavy emotionally before I go to Taco Bell.  I then come to that physical state afterwards.  My stomach commands me over the day and I submit.  This may be yet another little experiment that yields nothing.  However, it’s in trying that the greater lesson may be revealed. 

I would like to rebuild my habits and body from the bottom up.  What better way than to work on the fuel system?  A little purge to rid my body of the salt, fat, and sugars that encapsulated so many of those sinful little morsels must be eliminated to clear a slate upon which I can start to focus on superfoods.  My eating must have a purpose beyond pleasure.  I will seek pleasure in the purpose.  This has to be.  My new office downtown is surrounded by fast-food joints.  Work is demanding 16+hrs per day again, leaving the slide into the “I don’t have time to eat well” adage room to fester.  The test is not whether I can find moderation in the present.  For me it’s whether I can build to moderation from zero.  I’m sure there will be many 3hree posts related to food this week.  

Living simply has been my goal in the past 10 or 11 months.  Studying the great way as described in the Tao Te Ching, coming again to the 80^th verse, and rolling off the party wagon of weeks of excess, brings me back to a center point that is sorely needed.  I must admit that I’ve been somewhat out of touch with spirit these days and am glad that the opportunity to get back on the path presents itself, time and time again.  I’m at peace when I eat well, go to bed early, wake up and run or hike, and avoid alcohol and spending in excess.  During these phases I pray, meditate, write, play music, and have a healthy balance of work and pleasure with a knowing and trusting that all things will be done in their rightful way.  When I suck back a couple beers, break out the credit card, let my ‘wit’ and tongue lead conversations, and choose to blow off tasks for another day, a certain darkness begins to settle in.  Like allowing a cloud overhead to moderate how much light I will see, I start to feel depressed, anxious, unworthy, and frustrated.  I’m not suggesting that it’s the booze, but I will put forward that it can be a trigger to set the ego patterns back in motion. 

This morning I’ve started another hellacious day of activities.  This, bear in mind, takes place from 4:00 AM on in most occasions.  I have articles to write, online meetings, traveling to clients, presentations to prepare, and much more.  All of which are carefully arranged in a color-coded Google calendar with nearly zero float.   However, waking up and starting with some household chores, meditation, and a walk to the river has made things begin to flow again.  I’m writing this now knowing that my next online meeting is in but one short minute.  When my client appears, I will close this and focus my full attention on her, because ‘she and I’ is what I’ve set aside this time to do.  When that has concluded, I will move on to my next colorful block and immerse myself in that.  All the while, I refuse to feel anxious of the next block of time.  There is only now, and I planned it that way.

Where this leads are questions of overcommitting and the power of saying “yes”.  “No” is the easiest answer anyone can give, actually.  It’s harder, takes more commitment, and in some cases more power to say “yes”.  How many people do you know who are even in the position to say “yes” to some of the hardest tasks and questions?  Not many, I bet were you to really think about it.  There’s a glib little expression that says “busy people always have time, lazy people are too busy”.  I like that.  However, I worry at times that I’m taking on too much.  Not that I’m sacrificing one thing for another, but rather I’m double-booking myself and not giving a fair allocation of time and attention to those I promise to do quality work for.  When was the last time you had a meeting, or even a lunch for that matter, where the person with you devoted 100% of their attention to your words, thoughts, and ideas?  Furthermore, when was the last time you devoted 100% of your attention to someone or something?  Here’s the ‘call to action’:  Make your next meeting or get-together an opportunity to truly listen.  Be immersed. Commit your full, undivided attention to the person with you.  Yield, listen, find points of agreement and concede your constant need to be right or have the last word.  You will find that your time will be more fulfilling and you will look forward to the next opportunity to commit yourself as a chance to forget your worries and live in the moment, giving and compassionate as is the nature of the Tao.  Your partner will leave feeling full of the life-giving force that you surrendered to, and will also eagerly anticipate the next chance to be in your presence and solicit your work.

It has been an internal battle to admit that time, and moreover timing, is built into the very quantum fabric of existence.  I watch a banana bunch in a plant on the property here beginning to bloom.  It works within perfect peace, timing and in complete harmony with its environment.  It will eventually ripen and provide delight and sustenance to me and others for breakfast – in due time.  How absurd would it be for me to demand that the fruit “hurry up” because I’m hungry now?  Better to ask spring to come sooner. 

Considering that we are simply proteins and sugars mysteriously aligned and programed to manifest this earthly vehicle we call our body and that when there is no study that can actually identify within it our memories, soul, or personality, the question I ask is what drives our petulance?  When do we “evolve” to believe that things are supposed to happen as we see fit, not as nature allows them to unfold?  I know for many (myself included) this is a big leap to contemplate that events in our lives have their timing woven into them as does the banana, or the seasons.  But is it that much of a stretch?  When we look back on our lives are we not able to pinpoint significant events that seemed ill-timed at that moment, but in retrospect were perfect events at a perfect time?  Is this the human condition to try and derive meaning and see order in chaos, or is that the ego playing tricks on us?  Any reader of this blog knows that I am a growing subscriber to cosmic conspiracy.  What I’m suggesting is what Lao Tzu wrote some 25 centuries ago:  

Let me suggest a way to test this ancient wisdom.  I am working to find a space in this year where I can take a vow of silence for 10 days.  I wish to meditate, allow, observe, contemplate and “do” nothing.  This is not to say I will be on vacation.  Far from it.  It is an opportunity to trust and let things around me simply be.  As a quiet observer of God and his work, I feel I may be able to reset my ego and wind and calibrate better my internal workings to be in synchronicity with the Tao and the forces that are impeccably timed by their very nature.  The ego tells me that life will pass me by – that I’m not doing enough to get what I want.  What happens when you already have all that you want?  Who am I to question the timing as set by the cosmic intelligence that created worlds, sets the seasons, and beats my heart?  What folly, indeed.

I really hate my clothes.  I give more away to charity, and yet I replace them with nothing.  I wear what I have left and nothing more.  It’s not for some spiritual purpose that I allow my wardrobe to empty so.  I haven’t the means to buy new garments, nor would I if at this moment I did.  Were one to pick through my drawers they would find that the majority of what I own was given to me.  I can count on one hand the number of items that I’ve actually bought, all by myself.  It isn’t just that my clothes are old and ugly; it’s that they no longer fit well.  As I simplify my life, realize the true extent of my financial limits, and make good and bad choices, I understand that my lack of material things is liberating yet caging.  I want for pants whose waste band embrace me.  I love the feel of a shirt that looks as great as it feels, and makes me feel like I’m a better version of myself.  Shoes that cause worry when a puddle lies ahead of foot.  Hats.  My God.  Hats! 

I fear this is not my way.  Not for now.  I don’t wish to make this out to be a sacrifice to be more like the Buddha or Christ, dawning simple garb and finding fashion is merely the frame around ego.  Let’s not be like that.  I love Hugo Boss – straight up.  I go into that store and pretty much everything looks good on me.  Where I dance between superficial desires and a want to detach from material possession sits a reality that I should admit.  I mostly can’t afford things that I want.  Clothes are one of these things.  I suppose I could restructure my budget to allow for some small accumulations of decent duds.  But at the end of the day, when I have a couple extra hundred in the bank, I’ll blow it on ephemeral and capricious purchases driven by whimsy and carelessness.   “I’ll figure it out later” has been a failed budgeting strategy of mine for years.  “Feast or famine” is what I would say.  However, I’m seeing now that hating my clothes is the hair shirt that I now bear as my constant reminder that this cycle must now be broken. 

I’m ugly to myself at times.  This may be why.  It’s that I walk about through life imagining that my current state is temporary and the big payout is around the bend.  I’m not speaking only of money.  I look back on years of my life and see that I was sure “next quarter will show growth”, or “once I get this paid off, I can do that”, "I'll work off my gut in May".  Hmmmm.  Fallacious thinking when you realize the big payout has never come, and never actually does.  Choices to make sacrifices must be made – now.  Throwing more money at the issues is not the solution.  I’ve made more money year over year for the past seven.  That doesn’t seem to solve it.  Where is the real problem?  Is it that we tend to elevate our lifestyle alongside our pay increases?  Do we borrow too heavily on the future?  Yes, yes, and yes to whatever the next pithy question would have been.

We know we’re wrong.  We know it’s catching up to us.  When do we get real?  When did I start using “we”?

There’s a saying in tennis that it takes you twice as long to get back into the game as you spent out.  I’m recovering from, or in the midst of, a whirlwind set of events.  Aside from developing an entire business unit from the ground up, moving offices, and having visits from the higher-ups, my good friend came down for a weeks’ vacation loosely held together with endless beer, little sleep, and earth-shattering cheeseburgers.  To say I’ve been disconnected from spirit and my soul development is an understatement.  Being behind on work, be it articles with past due deadlines or projects being pushed back, I’m reminded that work is never really done if it’s truly done well.  I believe in standup meetings and evolutionary, iterative projects. The word completion can’t be applied to spiritual endeavors either.  It’s funny how we react when turmoil makes an appearance into otherwise calm waters.  What’s more is how we can choose to welcome it and perceive it as an opportunity, for we are always surrounded by motion.  Turmoil is what we choose to label it when it’s perceived as disruptive.  Where I have fallen off path is letting ego guide me more and feeling a degree of anxiety over the future. 

Let’s site something specific.  I am a huge proponent and preacher of the David Allen GTD (Getting Things Done) method.  The core notion of taking thoughts and tasks out of your head and putting them into a trusted system such as calendars and/or notebooks relieves the stress of pending work left “unfinished”.  Additionally, I practice Inbox Zero whereby I take all correspondence and turn into an actionable task – mail becomes verbs (delete, file, respond, ignore, etc.)  Where I’ve allowed myself to slip of the beam is how I’ve put tasks into a system, budgeted my time and attention based on past experience, and I see that all the pieces theoretically fit with fair time contingencies set for project slide, yet I worry in the moment about getting things done in the future.  While worrying about what I may not finish, I’m sacrificing time and quality on what I should be focused on right now.  Chuck a few distractions into the mix and one wants to simply throw up their hands and quit.  That said, I actually took some time today (swamped as I may be) and did something no manager would advise; I cleaned my refrigerator and did laundry.  What’s worse, I shut off my phones and turned off the computers.  Yep, right in the middle of a shit storm I decided to put the umbrella away and dance in it a bit.  Cleaning an appliance and focusing on other tasks completely unrelated not only relieves stress, but it lets your brain churn around some issues in the subconscious and surface solutions later.  For many later may not be an option, but for some it’s better to produce a great answer late than a crappy one now. 

I’m an early riser on most occasions.  The reason usually is that I can produce much better work in the wee hours of the morning.  But the other, more interesting, reason is that my brain simply works better.  I’m less prone to give in to distraction.  My office temperature is cooler.  The natural light is softer.  There is coffee!  More importantly there is a man sitting silently with the fresh thoughts his brain readily pulled from those 5-6 hours of unconscious thought-manufacturing.  I find that if I make recapitulation my initial stages of meditation before bed, my brain better sorts pending issues and gives me room to work them out overnight.  My best work comes when I wake up, meditate, do the email-ninja-thing to put out small fires, and go for a run or walk.  Having breakfast, listening to jazz, and getting back to work means that I’m relaxed, mindful, and patient. 

In short, sorry for being behind.  But in reality, I’m neither sorry nor behind.  None of us are.