Treachery of the flesh

The body is a traitorous thing. Sometimes it feels like no amount of manipulation can make it do quite what you want it to. Then there’s the look of the thing. It can be a constant source of depression for some. Others seem to be captivated by their appearance. The only reliable thing about a body is that everybody gets one.

They’re a tough thing to treat right. It's a lot to consider. Food and exercise, obviously. Getting this right is like advanced calculus. Sure it’s possible and some people can do it. But for most of us, it’s all confusion and magic. On top of that there are factors such as sleep, recovery times, the relationship between body and mind, environmental conditions, sex and no doubt many others that have an effect on the meat sack. Keeping the old girl running mint can be a tough ask.

Pretend there’s a spectrum of body care. At one end is the well-cared for body: eating right, sleeping well, exercising lots, the right shape and weight. Everything functions impeccably. At the other end is the neglected body: basically think of your typical student lifestyle, and then make them fatter and greasier. The average chump fits in somewhere in the middle.

I’ve run at a few different spots along the spectrum. Once upon a time I was 110kg’s, a wannabe alcoholic who ate infrequently and badly and slept irregularly and rarely during the night. My body wasn’t a good place to be. I have also been 72kg’s, eating well and exercising compulsively. I felt lean and efficient, everything worked spotlessly and life was a zephyr which I floated upon.

At the moment I am somewhere in between – but leaning slightly towards the sharp end of things. The physical me gets a lot of use and plenty of good zees. My diet is out of my handslargely but it could be worse. I am carrying more weight than I should but it’s nothing uncouth. I’d like it to be better though and have been working towards it.

And here’s where the treachery comes into play. Even though I am trying to eat less, do more, and target some specific muscle building, I see little improvement. The body is stubbornly trying to stay in its current state. Despite what I’m doing, I haven’t provided enough activation energy to make the reaction start. I’m speaking in (vaguely) chemistry terms because to me it seems a bit like a relevant parallel. Things just want to stay in their current state.

And then there are the things I can’t control. The physical appearance. The abundance of hair. The hand-eye coordination. The bone and facial structure. It’s a bit cavemanesque. Not to mention the small hands and feet, inflexible fingers and spindly arms. It could drive a man back to drink.

Having said that I love my body (I don’t mean it like that you sickos). It’s gotten me through 24 years of living, many of them good. And I do what I can to care for it. I only get the one and that makes me think some care should be taken. Besides, life is better when you look after yourself. It’s not just a thing smug healthy people say. So I’ll do what I can, even though I often don’t know if what I’m doing helps.

Michael J. Hayward's guide to happiness

"The J stands for Jolly"

Believe it or not, I tend to be a rather cheerful person - regardless of whether life has been stamping repeatedly on my gonads. Sure I might complain some, but just to make the days go by. I guess I prescribe to ‘gloomy optimism’. And it works for me. My life is superb.

But it wasn’t always this way, oh no. As a teenager and into my early twenties, a mild depression was the parrot on my shoulder. While some of it was likely age related, I’m convinced that a lot was not. Amongst other things, it led to an alcohol problem that impacted negatively on years of my younger life.

Something had to change, and it did. Honestly, a lot of it was mind-set. I had to want to change. It took a while to find what worked for me. I see a lot of sadness about and it isn’t the goods. What works for me may not be for you. But hell, maybe it’ll help. So here is my guide to my happiness.

Enjoy the little things - daily.

There’s always going to be things which happen during the course of your day which are smileworthy - a nice view, a cup of coffee, getting out of the rain and cold. Just yesterday I enjoyed all of these and more. I was truly happy about it. It was more than enough to make my day good. Enjoying the little things keeps you positive.

Life goes in swings and roundabouts.

Yeah there are some shitty bits in everyone’s life. It happens to the best of us. These bits just add texture. You need a bit of crunch. The bad times give you the context so you can appreciate when life’s great. On the flipside, because life goes in cycles, when things seem bleak you always know an upwards swing is coming at some stage. So when life gives you a shit sandwich, pick up a fork and tuck in. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can use mouthwash.

You gots to chill.

When things happen, they’re almost never as bad as they seem. So take it easy. If you can change it, do something about it. If you can’t, work with it. There’s no room for worry there. Just relax and let things resolve themselves - because they inevitably will. If you’re chilled they’ll probably work out better for you. So keep that blood pressure down.

Do the things you enjoy.

Or at least do things that make it possible to do the things you enjoy later. If all you have in life is work and you hate your job, you’re going to be miserable. My point is, find something you really love doing and ensure you create time to do it. Regularly. All work and no play makes Jack a bland, sad little man, so to avoid becoming Jack make sure you play as much as you realistically can.

Take life as it is.

Wishing for things isn’t going to get you anywhere. Fantasy belongs in fiction. Cope with life as it is, not as you wish it could be. The sooner you view life in real terms, the sooner you realise it ain’t so bad after all.

Work towards something.

Have a project, goal, or vague dream and take some steps towards it. It doesn’t need to be much but you want something to get you out of bed in the morning. Take steps to make it happen. If you want to go travelling, set up an account you can’t touch and put away some pennies. Look into where you want to go. Make a move, make some plans. make a schedule; make things happen.

Take some risks

Obviously I don’t mean doing anything life threatening, just getting out of the old comfort zone. No risk, no reward. Worst case scenario is you learn something from it. So what’s stopping you?

Like I said, these things may not work for you as well as they work for me. But something will, you just have to find what it is. It may not be easy and it may take time but I believe everyone is capable of getting themselves to a state of relative happiness. And if my experiences are anything to go by, then it will multiply. You owe it to yourself to spend some time and effort working out what makes you happy.

The Rain

The rain,

no, the Rain,

it comes down like god pissing after a six-pack,

but we are safe inside.

Until we are not safe anymore,

we have responsibilities,

we must meet them,

but first, breakfast.

The pounding of the Rain on the hood of my jacket,

It should be all I can hear – it isn’t,

my music is loud,

It drowns out the Rain.

But I can feel the Rain.

Where there was no stream,

now a stream flows,

streams have become rivers,

and the rivers, well, a new word is needed.

My feet were once warm and dry,

I remember it well,

it was not long ago,

I hope it is not so far away.

Wet tools slip from wet gloves wrapping wet hands,

dark mud and darker skies,

it is everywhere, the water and mud,

and it makes life difficult.

A soggy sandwich under a leaking tarp,

muted conversation,

the end in sight,

for another day.

Fat droplets from tree leaves,

and thin ones from the turbulent skies,

feel equally bad running down the neck,

through a working man’s afternoon.

Eventually the day ends,

or the outdoor part, at least,

and as gear is hung up to dry it is hoped,

that tomorrow will be different.

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I was reading some Bukowski and it made me think I'd have a crack at a poem. I don't think I'm about to become a poet laureate for anywhere any time soon but it was  kind of fun to write. Imay have a try at another sometime.

Words and beginnings

Words. They keep the world going round. Society couldn’t function in its current form without the tricky little buggers. A man who is good with words seems to have it all his own way sometimes. Make no mistake - for all their potential for treachery, words are important.

I’m always impressed whenever I read anything that’s cleverly written. All those letters lined up in neat little rows and my, if they don’t fit together so damn well. An excess of words to choose from and it feels like the author has picked just the right ones. They belong together. The sentence clicks and it swings, man. My brain feels like its fizzing.

So I love to read well written stuff. But deep down I want to be on the other side. I want to be able to drop the Mentos in through the reader’s eyes and shake it with the Coke in their brain. I want to be able to take any topic and make it sound interesting enough to make the reader do something. I want to cause some of those emotion-type things that we humans are seemingly so in to. Hell, I’d settle for being entertaining.

But words are hard to work with. They don’t want to do what you so desperately want them to. I read what I’ve written and it sounds lame in my head. It’s off-putting. It lacks that polish and flair that makes those great articles really excite me. I lose my enthusiasm.

Well I guess it’s like anything. People aren’t just naturally great at stuff. Popular pseudo-science tells us that to become an expert, you need to do something 10,000 times, or for 10,000 hours. I can’t remember which. Regardless, what that means is the only thing I can be considered expert at is breathing – and even then I sometimes choke on my own spit.

What I’m getting at though is that practice is required to improve in anything. I want to get better at using the written word. It ain’t all that hard to see what I need to do. So here’s me taking steps. For this year, I aim to write at least one thing a week. A thing of my choosing, whatever takes my fancy. By the end there should be 52 assemblies of words to show for my efforts.

Ideally there will also be signs of improvement. Maybe I can one day be on the other side. Maybe I can make someone’s brain fizz.