Category Archives: Spirituality

Monday—Tradition Pure Green Matcha Powder

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Or more precisely, Tradition Pure Green Tea Powder, Matcha Tea Powder, Product of Taiwan, 8.8 Oz. Cost $9.30.

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How do you poor saps jump start your day? With orange juice, almond milk, cofvefe, wrong, wrong, wrong. There’s only one way to begin the day and that’s with a green tea latte and you can’t achieve green tea latte nirvana without excellent matcha powder like this. One bag lasts about two months and I always have a spare in the refrigerator. You never, ever want to get caught matcha-less.

Just as with mashed potatoes, the enemy of good matcha is clumps. This stuff, like my jump shot and putting stroke, is silky smooth.

There are lots of uses of this matcha magic, but here’s my suggestion on how to use it to revolutionize your life. Pour 16-17 ounces of the milk of your choice, I use non-fat, into a mason jar and one quarter cup of water in a small glass bowl. Heat the water, which takes 30 seconds in my smallish microwave oven. Next, heat the milk, which in my case means about 4 minutes in my micro, less time in medium-sized, more powerful ones. You now have 4 minutes to add 2 TSP of matcha powder to a bowl, 1/2 TSP of sugar (way less than Starbucks at about 10% of the price), and some vanilla extract*. To avoid any spraying, add half the water and mix it with a small metal whisk. Once it’s pasty, add the remaining water and whisk until there are no signs of clumps. Clump rhymes with Trump, to start your day well, avoid both.

Add those contents to your large cup or travel mug of choice. Then, unless you’re a slave to the dish washer, use the remaining time, usually about 2 minutes, to clean the bowl and whisk, leaving the soapy water in the bowl to add to the mason jar. Once the milk is supe-hot, add it to the matcha/sugar/vanilla extract concentrate residing in your cup or mug, and drink slowly, savoring the matcha goodness as long as possible.

* I’ve steadily reduced the amount of sugar I use, but simultaneously increased the vanilla extract. I never claimed to be the sharpest tool in the shed. Remember, fat is not the enemy, sugar is. And perfection.

Only One Border

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Imagine everyone in the world agreeing to limit their long-distance travel to mitigate the problems associated with climate change. Specifically, imagine everyone agreeing to only cross one border whether state, provincial, or national, in their remaining days on earth.

For example, living in Western Washington State, I could choose to travel only to one of the following places for the rest of my life: Oregon; Idaho; or British Columbia, Canada.

Even though I was born in Idaho, I’m more familiar with and fond of Oregon and British Columbia. Which brings me to a very difficult decision. Oregon has an abundance of beautiful terrain to recommend it. And I still haven’t played Bandon Dunes or any of the adjacent courses. And of course there’s Shakespeare outdoors under the stars in Ashland, cycling in the high desert, running the Deschutes River trail, Batchelor, Hood, the Three Sisters, Crater Lake. Don’t just take my word for it, give this guy’s work a look-see.

Despite the difficulty knowing I will never cross the Columbia River again, I’m going north to British Columbia. For the rest of my life. As much as I like Oregon, I love British Columbia. Victoria, Vancouver, Whistler, the Okanogan Valley, Penticton. Barely scraping the surface of the southernmost part of the province has been enough to tip the balance.

The GalPal and I will stay here a few nights. Here too. And we’ll make regular visits to our private suite at the Hotel Grand Pacific in Victoria.

Part of it is a feeling I get in B.C. I’m sure I idealize it, but I like knowing there’s less gun violence, a progressive head of state, a single payer health care system, and often a self-deprecating sense of humor. I hope some of my Washington State friends are down with my decision. It would be a lot more fun to have some company along for the many, many ferry and border crossings in my future.

 

Selecting The Wrong Leader. . . Again

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Fighting an insidious attack on my immune system, I’ve opted to lean in to the sickness by reading the Atlantic’s God’s Plan for Mike Pence and the New York Times’s Inside Trump’s Hour-by-Hour Battle for Self-Preservation.

Journalism is hemorrhaging jobs, but fortunately, in some places, long form journalism is flourishing. These are detailed; thoughtful; and if you’re left-leaning, harrowing pieces.

From God’s Plan for Mike Pence:

“Scott Pelath, the Democratic minority leader in the Indiana House of Representatives, said that watching Pence vouch for Trump made him sad. “Ah, Mike,” he sighed. “Ambition got the best of him.” It’s an impression that even some of Pence’s oldest friends and allies privately share. As one former adviser marveled, ‘The number of compromises he made to get this job, when you think about it, is pretty staggering.'”

Tucked in the NYT piece were passing references to Trump’s twelve daily Diet Cokes and his regular dinner of. . .

“plates of well-done steak, salad slathered with Roquefort dressing and bacon crumbles, tureens of gravy and massive slices of dessert with extra ice cream.”

I’m calling bullshit on his doc’s glowing reports on his health. #fakenews

Why do we as citizens, employees, members of civic organizations, make leadership decisions we often regret? Why is our batting average too often Seattle Mariner-like?

Because we pick leaders based upon tangible qualifications that most closely match those we detail in our job postings, with far too little attention paid to the finalists’ psychological well-being. Granted, psychological well-being is hella-hard to assess in even a series of interviews, but somehow, we have to get better at it.

Let’s start with this premise, on a “Psychological Health” scale of 1-100, the most self-actualized person in the world is a 90. Put differently, everyone has “issues” and is fallible. The goal is to select leaders with the fewest inner demons so as to avoid getting hopelessly side-tracked from the group’s overarching mission. How about this for an interview question: Which of your inner demons are we likely to learn about six months from now? Maybe I should use italics when joking. But seriously, how do interviewers enter the side or back door to assess a candidate’s relative mental health and basic people skills?

My best work friend of all time took another job two and a half years ago. When the damnable university called me to talk about him, this is some of what I said, “He utterly has no ego. As a result, he doesn’t care who gets the credit for the good work that get’s done. All he cares about is that good work gets done.” His lack of ego was an indicator of genuine psychological health, the foundation of which, was equal parts a wonderful marriage and extended family, a deep spirituality, and a commitment to physical activity. Importantly, he also laughed a lot, often at himself.

Maybe the answer to the question, how do we assess job finalists’ psychological health, lies in the previous paragraph. Talk to more former co-workers in greater depth. I’m interested in other ideas you may have.

 

Studies Show That Religious People Are Happier Than The Nonreligious

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From Ruth Whippman in America the Anxious:

“Almost all the studies show that religious people tend to have a greater number of social ties and stronger and more supportive communities. When the studies control for the increased levels of social connection, the link between religion and happiness almost always disappears.”

This is my fav positive psychology book. The one I’d recommend to someone brand new to the subject. I dig Whippman’s skepticism, insights, journalistic bent, and British wit. Only complaint, she could use some working class friends.

Don’t Just Follow The Money

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Saturday night the Gal Pal and I (and Kris and Brian) went to a concert at Traditions Cafe in downtown Olympia. When we go out, we go all out, which means some grub beforehand. Traditions concert tickets are $15. I counted about 40 peeps tucked into the small cafe. So I started to do the math because I’m always doing the math, can’t help it. Actually, MaggieZ does math, I do arithmetic. $600 divided between three musicians minus one-third to the cafe (guessing) equals $400 divided between three or $133/per. Don’t forget to factor in a few CD sales, but still less than $200/per.

And yet, all three musicians, Larry in particular, performed like it was a stadium concert with 40,000 people. His technical prowess as a guitar player and singer was impressive, but not nearly as much as the profound joy he had for sharing his gifts. The intrinsic genesis of his art was a beautiful, downright spiritual thing to observe.

And it got me thinking about whether I’d share my teaching gifts with the same committed passion if I only had a few students. And how I like to be well compensated for my time. And how I want to be more like Larry when I grow up.

Fast forward a few days to a story our local on-line paper ran on a local citizen who is doing a mindfulness workshop for local educators. Interested in mindfulness, I snooped around her website only to find a “shopping” section with bullshit mindfulness products. And her teacher workshop costs twenty Tradition’s concert tickets. I don’t begrudge her the right to run a profitable business or her desire to build wealth as a young person. Also, people pay decent money for yoga classes, but the overt commercialism and explicit selling of mindfulness, not only makes me want to run the other way, but likely turns off others who could benefit greatly from it.

Granted, it’s easier to take my advice to be like Larry and not just follow the money all the time, when you have some money. But whether you do or don’t have money, nonstop selling becomes habitual, meaning the extrinsic overwhelms the intrinsic until one’s work contributes very little to the greater good.

I’ve referenced two PressingPausers—Kris and MaggieZ—whose loyalty to the humble blog I greatly appreciate, but I’m thinking about a third who shall remain nameless because that’s the way he’d want it. Check out this other article from our same local on-line paper, “Puget Sound Honor Flight Recognizes Veterans One Flight At A Time”. When I first saw it, I immediately skimmed it for my friend’s name, but somehow he didn’t make it into the article. The fact that no one is watching him get up at 4 a.m. to drive to Sea-Tac Airport monthly, or watching him sometimes accompany local veterans on the actual flights, or watching him attend board meetings, makes all those activities much more meaningful.

Larry didn’t need much if any money. All he needed was a small group of people to share with. Same with our esteemed, third PressingPauser. All he needs is an appreciative veteran or two to share with.

 

 

 

Why I Dig Holden Village

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Miss me much? I spent four days at Holden Village last week. Near the end of our visit the Good Wife said, “That was fun!” To which I replied, “It’s always fun.”

1. I get to watch the Gal Pal try to make a reverse layup. This is always a highlight. I confess that’s my go to move when I’m down a letter or two in “HORSE”. The GP is deadly from the free throw line so sometimes I find myself needing to make a come-back. She knows it’s coming and there’s nothing she can do (except practice in private before the next visit).

2. In ping pong, I get to chip away at the Gal Pal’s backhand. It’s an unrelenting assault on her weaker stroke. 21-7 if memory serves correct.

3. It’s the perfect place for introverts like me to meet people because it feels like everyone else is extroverted. In actuality, it’s just the set-up. Communal dining, classes, outdoor furniture, close living quarters. Even the socially challenged like me can’t help but meet people. Some of my favorites this time:

  • a 14 year old from Ventura, CA who put chocolate chippies on top of his cheerios
  • an 80 year-old grandma from Bellevue who arranged for me to run with her 14 year old granddaughter*
  • the 14 year old granddaughter who was a total delight, she chatted me up the whole 2.5 miles and then made me want to adopt her when she asked, “What was our pace?!”
  • a dude my age who happened to have two PhD’s, one in music and one in epidemiology, I did not let his USC sweatshirt deter me from picking his considerable brain
  • a guy from my church who was a journalist for 20 years without a college degree and now is Washington State’s Department of Transportation media guy, I never would’ve guessed he teaches yoga and considers himself successful when people fall asleep in his class

4. When at Holden, I’m a serious reader. Read, hike, eat, meet someone, beat Lynn at something, read, repeat. I finished Ta-Nehisi Coates’s Between the World and Me and half of Killers of the Flower Moon. Of course, with some New Yorker thrown in for good measure.

5. There’s something about “three hots and a cot” that makes me more appreciative of my normal quality of life. It’s also very nice not to have to drive anywhere. The whole village is walkable in about two minutes.

6. Unplugging is a reminder that we should control our personal tech, not let it control us. It’s a very helpful reminder that we don’t have to succumb to anyone’s expectations that we’re always on. We are free to pick and choose when to plug in.

7. Without work and household responsibilities limiting us, it’s nice to have extended conversations with the Good Wife, about all kinds of things. It’s like a marriage retreat without the obligatory lectures and group sessions. Most people in modern societies fill their lives with things that confound extended conversation. Almost everything is emptied out at Holden.

8. I get to watch the Gal Pal jump into a very cold Lake Chelan from the boat ramp right before our departure. So entertaining, she drew a nice crowd. Proud to say I maintained my objectivity, awarding her an 8/10, the two point deduction was for holding her nose.

9. The scenery is decent.

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* When I told The Good Wife that I had a running date with a 14 year old girl, she said something to the effect of, “I can’t believe her grandma trusted you.” To which I said, “Thanks a lot!” There’s a lot more reverse layups in her future. Left-handed even.

 

Friday Assorted Links

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1. University of Georgia prevents professor from including “stress-reduction policy” in syllabus.

2. A new kind of classroom—no grades, no failing, no hurry.

“The only goal is to learn the material, sooner or later. . . . Mastery-based learning, also known as proficiency-based or competency-based learning, is taking hold across the country.”

What goes around, comes around:

“Mastery-based learning can be traced to the 1960s, when Benjamin Bloom, a professor at the University of Chicago and an education psychologist, challenged conventional classroom practices. He imagined a more holistic system that required students to demonstrate learning before moving ahead. But the strategy was not widely used because it was so labor intensive for teachers. Now, with computer-assisted teaching allowing for tailored exercises and online lessons, it is making a resurgence.”

The goal:

“We want to change the conversation from ‘I’m not successful at this’ to ‘This is where you are on the ladder of growth.’”

3. Deep cleaning is a deep challenge for L.A. Unified School District.

4. How mental-health training for police can save lives—and taxpayer dollars.

“. . . the culture in the police world is not to acknowledge fear, stress, or weakness—and if officers do, they can be pulled off the street and put on a desk. Police who are suffering or dealing with PTSD may be more prone to hair-trigger reactions, which in turn can mean more tragedies. Those who’ve gone through the Miami-Dade program have been more willing to recognize their own stress and to seek help.”

4. Why women had better sex under socialism.

“As early as 1952, Czechoslovak sexologists started doing research on the female orgasm, and in 1961 they held a conference solely devoted to the topic,” Katerina Liskova, a professor at Masaryk University in the Czech Republic, told me. “They focused on the importance of the equality between men and women as a core component of female pleasure. Some even argued that men need to share housework and child rearing, otherwise there would be no good sex.”

Pardon me while I vacuum.

Agnieszka Koscianska, an associate professor of anthropology at the University of Warsaw, told me that pre-1989 Polish sexologists “didn’t limit sex to bodily experiences and stressed the importance of social and cultural contexts for sexual pleasure.” It was state socialism’s answer to work-life balance: “Even the best stimulation, they argued, will not help to achieve pleasure if a woman is stressed or overworked, worried about her future and financial stability.”

5. Genuine life lessons, from of all places, the world of professional golf.

A.  A PGA champion and columnist lock horns over a harsh critique, then learn from it.

B. A generation driven to win, but practiced in camaraderie.

Blessed Light

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Living in the Upper Lefthand Corner of the United States requires a tradeoff that is difficult at times. You must endure dampness and darkness for eight months of the year in exchange for four months of supernatural light and unparalleled beauty. Right now we’re in the sweet spot of the four months meaning there’s no other place on the planet I’d rather be.

During this morning’s run in Priest Point Park I was intermittently blanketed by the sun’s brilliant radiance as I moved steadily through the forest. Shirtless and sweaty at 7a,  I was profoundly appreciative of July. More so than I ever would be if it wasn’t for the damp and dark runs during the eight contrasting months. The contrast is key.

Mid-day, on Mount Rainier with family, the sun ricocheted off the snow surrounding Snow Lake.

Tonight, transfixed by the fading sun on the western horizon, I will sit on the deck eating popcorn and drinking a recovery beer with family. Sunset is at 9:08p.m., but it won’t get dark until 9:45-10p.m. Must store as much Vitamin D as possible.

As a visitor you probably wouldn’t get it, you’d probably say, “Yeah sure, the weather, the trees, the water, they’re all nice, but really, no need to get all worked up about it.” To which I’d say, “I’m selling it short. I can’t do justice to the blessed light that gives me an unspeakable joy and sustains me through the dark.” At which point you’d just slowly back away not knowing what to make of me. Which I would understand and not hold against you. At all.

Addendum: For those keeping score at home, the “find the spelling errors in the initial draft” scorecard currently reads, Cal Lutheran 1, St. Olaf 1, Carleton 0.

 

 

 

Wise Advice For Young Female Runners

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Or so says LetsRun.com. I’d revise that to read “Wise Advice for Anyone Trying to Find Their Way in Life”.

Beautiful, powerful essay by Lauren Fleshman, a recently retired professional runner to her high school self. The gist of it, short-term success is a trap, form healthful habits, and decide for yourself what’s most important in life.