The Cleanse

First week recap - Amidst a great deal of complaining - the whole family succeeded (survived) the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh days.  Meleea has produced a couple fantastic soups for dinner.  The one I helped with was a travesty.  I was the only one who ate it and I only did it to prove how committed I am.  I made a healthy but clearly not delicious or satisfying green shake with kale for breakfast.  Headaches reared up in the afternoon the first couple days and I can feel myself building for a mucus explosion.  I'm finally starting to feel like I'm in a groove.  The rest of the family is done but I'm doing liquid for breakfast and dinner with a solid meal for lunch.
I lost about five pounds and peed about once every 10 minutes (ok - not quite that much).
All of us could tell some improvement.

The rest of the family eased off after the first week.  I kept going.

I've lost about 10 pounds.  No headaches.  Great, deep sleep waking up without my tongue coated in goo.  Very increased energy level.  Reduced heart rate.

I went for a bike ride today.  Not sure if it's a result of weight lifting or the cleanse or both but I'm much faster for much longer.

I'm also more patient, more kind and less snappy.  Ask Meleea.

I keep thinking about the time Jesus said that whoever seeks to save his life will loose it, but he who gives it up willingly for his sake will find it.  Part of this effort for me is acknowledging and honoring the wonder of a fearfully made body.  It's capable of health, healing, strength, endurance, mood regulation, and a host of other almost supernatural accomplishments.  I believe in this creation and I'm interested to see how it performs when I treat it well instead of abusing it.

I finished the cleanse on Tuesday last week but I've continued with minor deviations (read - Philly Cheesesteak Sandwich on Friday night and taco dinner for Cinco De Mayo)  Still no dairy or wheat based stuff.

I think I'm going to just keep going.  It's not that hard and I feel great.  I'm hoping my allergies are significantly reduced.

I'll let you know.

Gettin' Clean

Clean - Day 1

Today is the first day of the Miller family's attempt to detoxify.  

2012 was a terrible year for my health.  My seasonal allergies just about killed me - weird symptoms: short of breath and aching chest (kind of like what I would imagine an impending heart attack), extreme fatigue, dizzy and light-headed, anxiety like I've never known before (racing brain, jumbled, incomplete thoughts, inability to concentrate, etc), cold, tingling extremities, sensitivity to light and general emotional malaise.  I spent much of the year just surviving - hoping no one would notice.  

Why I Read

I do not read only to learn.  I do not read to gather facts and information – to hold them and at earliest opportunity, regurgitate.  I do not read or study to capture the world in my mind and define it.  It would be a perverse limitation and I am infinitely limited for the task.

Burn Barrel

His rescuer dragged 

blackened remnants

of last ditch effort 

to the barrel

and stood

with a charred stick

gripped absently.

She pushed down

and down again

into the heat

staring blank

and dry eyed

waiting

for the fire

to rebuild.

Cold Feet

feet on floor

Ah yes, I think I woke up.  At the very least, I can tell that the bottoms of my feet are colder than they should be if they are still ensconced under the covers.  Probably means they are resting on the concrete floor by my bed and I haven’t found my fluffy slippers yet.  I’m not sure this really qualifies as woke up, but it is a great comparison.  I spend so much time upright and moving without being attentive.  I notice this lack of awareness when I’m gently jolted into interest.  I’m embarrassed that I spend so much time like a zombie.  Just moving forward, concerned only with what I will consume next, unaware that what I consume does not nourish.  Why live as a zombie if I’m not dead?

What I'm doing

To friends, family, neighbors & people wondering why I spend so much time in coffee shops but still have calluses on my hands,

I recently accepted the role of Partnership Developer with Go Connect.  I am more excited about this opportunity than any other for many years.  It seems like much of my life has led me to and prepared me for this assignment. 

I am working with another local missionary, David Bilby, on a project called Neighbor LinkUp.  It is an interactive, Internet database that connects volunteers with the people and projects that need them.  Our mission is to fight against all forms of isolation, illness and poverty by connecting generations relationally to meet practical needs. 

Top 5 things that make you a legit "runner" (besides running)

Running Alone - better or worse?

1.  Tell Injury Stories: 

a.  Find logical places runners congregate.  This can be nearly anywhere except buffet restaurants. 

b.  Look for shoes and race shirts.  

c.  Meander over and stand around in your running gear looking nonchalant.  If running gear is unavailable, try to look like you have a low heart rate and a high VO2 max. 

d.  When congregating occurs, blend in with group and nod sympathetically when they start telling training injury stories.  Don’t worry; you won’t have to wait long for this. 

e.  Now this is a critical move that requires preparation.  It may be best to practice in front of a mirror while recording on your iPod.  When a break comes, chuckle knowingly and launch into your injury story.  Word of caution, you must tell the story as if happened in the distant past.  Whether you say so or not, you must leave story-telling buddies with the impression that you healed and learned from your training mistakes and everything is now back to normal.  In fact you are stronger.  Do not expose current weakness – they are like jackals!  You will be de-legitimized faster than you can open a tube of Gu.

7 Great Sayings?

Consider well...

Just joking.  What I really think is that these are seven common sayings that could use a bit more consideration. 

It can be observed that, sometimes, these statements are not true.  In the great and wonderful created world we live in, someone set up some rules.  They are always true.  According to this logic, if something is true in part, it will be true as a whole.  If it is false in part, it is probably false as a whole.

Most of these statements are not rules, they are assumptions made regularly with less consideration than warranted.  Rather than ranting on my soapbox and incurring wrath for my overly dramatic treatments, I have a question to follow each.  Just consider them a bit.  Maybe they aren’t that obvious. 

Words R Drugs

Bendy Straw

In the midst of scintillating conversation with Mark and Brant at Compass Coffee this morning, the artistry demonstrated by Bryan as he poured life and caffeine into an Orange Ginger Americano captivated our active minds and shut our mouths.  Watching his delivery of said coffee craftsmanship into the not yet twitchy hands of a definitely not hipstery hippie type of patron.  Mark paused mid sentence and breathed with a subconscious sideways nod, “that guy’s a drug dealer.”

I responded as I watched, “Too bad he went into business.” 

Non-Profit?

My daughter asked me yesterday what to tell people when they ask, “what does your dad do?”  It’s not the first time she’s asked that.  It was an easy question for most of her life.  He’s a contractor… slot filled, box checked, identity neatly secured.  If I trained her right, and I did, her answer might even produce a lead for a job. 

For the last few years, no one really knows what I do.  Including me.  I have been busy enough.  I think I’ve avoided apathy entirely and hope I’ve dodged lazy and good-for-nothing.  It’s just that my answer to, “what do you want to be when you grow up,” has been inconveniently interrupted by the growing. 

Internal Combustion

My heart is damaged.  It is scarred by loss and disappointment.  The scars offer evidence of their presence with every beat in a complicated rhythmic pattern I have yet to keep time with.  I voluntarily gave some of what I’ve lost.  Some, less willingly, I either accepted or still resist.  I expect my off-beat tapping will improve with further acceptance.  My disappointment withers with the realization that what is replacing my losses is far more valuable to me, far more powerful and life giving than what I’ve given up.  This does not eliminate the scars or their pain, it makes them important, gives them a place of significance and hints to poetic lyrics being crafted into music.

Letter To Old Men

Dear Older Men,

We respectfully request the honor of your presence on the battlefield for our lives.  The tactics of the enemy are overwhelmingly successful.  It is evident that there is no longer hope for an immediate solution.  The enemy’s attack requires weaponry we are not sufficiently able to operate.  We are loosing this battle and many more will, according to the score of casualties, be lost by us.  It is now incumbent, upon those who are able and willing, to inspire the survivors and train the untested.  While this must be done with vigor and urgency, we believe it can only be done over time.  Please confirm.

Beginning Earl

A couple 40-something guys...

Earl

Yesterday, I began a partnership with a 38-year-old truck.  My daughter says he is an Earl.  It’s nearly as old as me.  My friend Brant discovered him after someone else found him languishing namelessly in a field, starved of fuel and rusting in the rain.  After working hard to be a benefit for his owner, who recently passed away, Earl found himself on the sidelines with muddy, flat feet and no where to go… Poor Earl.

A Moment Finally Came

A moment finally came, ending the anticipation and cleaving my old life away in a violent chop.  For months, dread grew within me, eating at my soul and generating an insatiable hunger.  The odor of this coming moment had stunk up the air around me as I struggled against the inevitable.  I kept busy producing checkmarks for the mundane.  I expended myself with heroic efforts to ward it off.  Sometimes it enveloped me at my desk or in my truck.  Even outside, slinging words through the phone in the clear fall air, it cascaded over me like a deluge of wet, sticky sludge and pooled in a chunky, rank pile of demise causing goo.  It immobilized me.

Why I Like to Make Good Coffee - Mutterings about Art and the Journey

On occasion, I have been called a coffee snob. I expect, I would be snubbed by most “true” coffee snobs, but I cannot deny the appropriateness of teasing me about my persnickitiness. I don’t mind the moniker, true or not. Honestly, those who opinionatedly believe that putting time and effort into the minute details of a warm, dark and aromatic cup of coffee is kooky, are just missing a bit of perspective. A slight tilt of the head and things look much different. You may not like the kind of coffee I like but to say that trying to make good coffee is too much work just can’t be an absolute truth.
Preparing great coffee is like art or music, woodworking, quilting, fishing, flying, four wheeling or gardening. Anything that produces and end result considered worth the effort begs attention to the process. So the first real question is, is it worth the effort? And that is a totally subjective question. For example, if your only measurement is Taco Bell, don’t tell me you don’t like tacos. It would be a mistake to make a unilateral decision about the enjoyment of flying if all you ever tried was flapping your arms. You can’t appreciate the full impact of art by going to a pre-school open house. To judge something, you have to experience it in a way that honors the intention behind it.
It’s been often said, though rarely followed that, it’s not the destination, but the journey that counts. Perhaps both matter equally, even if you don’t know what the end is or exactly where you are in the journey. Limited as broken people without a clear view of the future, how can we expect to fully understand the implications of any of our circumstances or what is coming? What remains is the security of trusting that there is hope for both the past and the future. We are to live in the present in the most authentic way possible, as creatures who owe the glory we have. We owe it to the farmers, harvesters, mucilage strippers and roasters who came before and the fellow aficionados who will come after (metaphorically speaking).
If the journey and the end both matter and we are not in control of either, then it follows that the fullest enjoyment of every moment is really, really important. It is each moment that the rest are built on. This, in the back of my mind, is why the art and ritual of coffee making brings so much satisfaction. It is why a successful attempt introduced happily to lips, tongue and throat makes me want to share. I have, for a moment, connected with beauty, power, joy…even, eternity.
Taking an extra couple of minutes to put forth a prize deserving effort really isn’t much compared to the years Michelangelo spent on his back in chapel or covered with David’s dust. But it is a little, tiny bit like it. I wish it were more. I wish I could see the significance of each action of my life as the part of eternity that it actually is. Until then, I will try with all that I imagine to be as much of what I was made to be for every moment. Forgive me for my failure. Grace to all of us. Glory is coming.