The sea

I have returned from a long weekend of beach camping on North Carolina's Outer Banks.

Julia had mentioned she wanted to go a few months ago so we sat down and looked at the calendar. Cape Lookout seemed promising. One long weekend in July seemed to work for both of us so we decided on it.

...but that weekend brought thunderstorms and strong currents to Cape Lookout. No ferries were running and neither one of us was particularly keen to get stuck out on a big sandbar in the middle of the Atlantic during a lightning storm. We cancelled the trip and lamented over the fact that we wouldn't get to go before Julia moved away and started graduate school.

Then, as often happens in life, schedules unexpectedly changed and another opportunity opened up for this weekend. I scrambled to make arrangements (big thanks to Sean, who was asked on Thursday "Sean, can you do everything for the next few days?" and immediately replied "Sure.") and on Friday we were stepping off a tiny ferry onto a remote strip of beach that would be our home for the next few days.

Cape Lookout National Seashore is a national park now, but it used to be an important part of the nation's lighthouse system. You can read more about it here. Other than the lighthouse and a small Ranger station the whole island is undeveloped. There are two sides - the sheltered cove side is a patchwork of calm salt marshes, filled with herons, small fish, mud, and a hell of a lot of biting insects. On the ocean side, rolling dunes give way to a broad beach and the endless roar of the Atlantic Ocean.

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When given a choice between mountains and ocean I usually choose mountains, but there's something about the sea that speaks deeply to me. When I was a young kid I answered the ubiquitous "what do you want to be when you grow up" question with "A scuba diver!" (which later evolved into "A marine biologist!") I loved going to big aquariums and loved maritime culture and history. (hanging in my house right now is an old brass ship's clock) I've spent a fair amount of time on boats and ships and even have a few tales to tell about storms, near shipwrecks, actual shipwrecks, sharks, big fish, and an unexpected swim with a manatee. There's nothing like breathing sea air and watching the endless patterns of the waves. It always feels like coming home.

That home feeling hits especially hard when I'm swimming in the ocean. There is some primordial magic power in the sea. It's where we all come from after all. Floating on the water, diving under waves, body surfing, even just standing in the shallows and letting the waves crash around me is a uniquely calming experience.

Not surprisingly, it's also a playful one. With the obligations of the outside world left on the mainland, we embraced purposelessness and did as we pleased. I wrestled the ocean and lost. Julia built sandcastles. We took long walks and marveled when a retreating wave revealed hundreds of coquinas glinting in the sun like little jewels - until they all flipped onto their ends and reburied themselves under the sand - gone in an instant.

We were excellent opportunists and scroungers. We found a rusted half empty lighter near our campsite and got it working, then gathered enough driftwood to build a fire on each night. We had to build the fires below the high tide line and the wind was very strong - which made lighting the fire extremely difficult. Julia managed to do it though (extremely impressive) and so we finished our nights sitting by a warm fire, watching the moon rise and the stars come out. On the second night, we were joined by a surprisingly curious ghost crab who sat with us for a good 10 minutes before scuttling off into the night.

It wasn't all joy. There was very little shelter and the sun was merciless. We took precautions and all things considered we made it out relatively unscathed, but there was one scary moment when we both realized we were feeling a bit thick headed and confused. We tottered into the shade of a few scraggly pine trees, sat down and sipped water for an hour. When the sun sank a little lower in the sky we cooled off in the ocean, but were left with some pounding headaches. Everything we brought, including ourselves were soon covered in layers of sand and salt which made for some abrasive sleeping. The second night brought some rain, and while our rainfly kept us dry it also cut off nearly all the ventilation in our little backpacking tent. Given the remoteness of the island, we had to carry in all of our food and water - and lugging 6 gallons of water over the shifting sand dunes was not easy. Add in biting insects, marauding raccoons, and the fact that we forgot the toilet paper and it's clear that this was not the world's most comfortable trip.

I wouldn't have changed a thing - an experience without challenges is not worth having. The hardships provide contrast for the good moments, making them that much sweeter. At the end of the weekend each successive rediscovery of modern comfort seemed like magic. The car seats were cushioned and OH GOD THE AIR CONDITIONING. The first big meal we had in days (Chipotle burritos) was a royal feast. The house was a cool bastion against the elements. The first shower was like divine rebirth and slipping into a soft bed with clean sheets and a real pillow (and no sand) was the height of luxury. The whole experience made me realize how lucky I am to lead such a comfortable life and how easily we all take our modern wealth for granted.

But, it mostly reminded me of how important it is to get away from all the craziness of our modern lives - to slow down and simplify. I was grateful for each drink of water, each bite of food, for the warm fire, loving companionship and especially for the sound of the sea - that whisper of ancient memory.

Post-apocalypse now...

First of all, I've had a few people ask if I'm going to write something about my MovNat trainer certification experience. I have - two parts, actually. Part 1 will be on MovNat's website and part 2 will be here some time next week, so stay tuned.

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I've been out of the video game business for a while now, but I still try to keep tabs on it. This year's E3 (the industry's big trade show) just happened and all the developers/publishers were showing off their big upcoming titles. Of note were Naughty Dog's "The Last of Us" and Ubisoft's "ZombiU." (Warning, both those videos are quite violent) They follow a now well established resurgence of interest in post-apocalyptic scenarios, perhaps best epitomized by the good ol' Zombie Apocalypse.

There's no denying that our culture has an obsession with this idea. What's strange is that a significant number of people express a desire for such an event to actually occur. Obviously anyone who is sane doesn't mean it literally, but still, what's going on with that? I made a quip on Facebook a few weeks ago about how I wasn't sure if enthusiasts really understood what the words "apocalypse" and "zombie" meant. I don't mean to mock anyone's fantasies here - making fun of fantasies for being unrealistic is like making fun of children for growing taller - I just find the whole thing very interesting and telling.

While our classic post-apocalyptic stories grew out of trying to make sense of our general unease/dread of a thermonuclear end to the Cold War, I think this latest round of enthusiasm speaks to something else. See, here's the thing about the post-apocalypse: you don't have to pay your taxes. Or rent. Or go to your awful job and get yelled at by your boss. You are perfectly liberated. At the same time, all of your experiences would be extremely real, raw, immediate, and visceral. Your full calendar and endless to-do list? Out the window. The only task for the day is to survive. Beautifully simple and straightforward, right? No chronic stress about looming deadlines etc. Back to good old fashioned fight/flight just like nature intended. Note that it's also an intensely physical lifestyle. You have no choice but to be fully engaged with your body and your environment. As our modern lives disconnect us more and more from both, such and existence becomes more romantic.

If we dig in a few layers deeper, I think there's a lot of environmental concerns/nostalgia at work here. A lot of modern post-apocalyptic art highlights nature reclaiming urban areas. Everything is quiet - no traffic noise, airplane noise, no construction noise, no constant beeping of phones. Perhaps this speaks to a universal desire to reconnect with the natural world and enjoy a moment of peace and quiet?

Okay, this actually looks pretty awesome.

We could continue this analysis all day, but here's the point I want to make: Our cultural obsession with post-apocalyptic scenarios speaks to a widespread dissatisfaction with our current lifestyles. We feel trapped and we want a release.

Well, there's good news. You can fulfill basically all the elements of post-apocalyptic life I listed above without the need for that messy apocalypse bit. It won't necessarily be easy, but it's entirely doable. Take time to declutter your life. Explore some minimalism and begin to pare away excess - starting with physical stuff then moving onto lifestyle. Work on ways to manage your stress - maybe meditation, maybe more sleep, maybe identifying and removing the source of the stress. If you hate your job, figure out how to quit and do something you enjoy. Reconnect with your body by moving it more - some people call that exercise. Reconnect with the natural world by spending more quality time in it. Take risks - revel in your accomplishments and learn from your mistakes. Make some time for yourself. Yes, all of this is easier said than done, but it's all entirely doable.

If you want more, perhaps you should look into Urban Exploring. You might want to consider getting into Urban Agriculture. You just might want to look into protecting open spaces in your community.

In short, we can make the world we want to live in, on an individual level but also on a societal level. I really think we all must make an effort to live simply and sustainably - for our own health and happiness, sure, but also because it shouldn't take a global catastrophe for us to see the error of our ways. Let's take steps now to avoid the apocalypse. I'd really miss the coffee.

Worth the effort

An interesting New York Times article on the potential dangers of yoga has been making its way around the internet. You can read the article here.

Yikes. Before all the strength athletes begin making yoga jokes I think it's important to note that this article could have been written about any physical discipline or exercise regimen. We must all remember that the difference between medicine and poison is dosage.

Any kind of physical activity carries risk. These risks are greatly increased when we allow our egos to take over. We push too hard too fast. We demand fast results. We also expect to given something new to try, which has pushed many coaches and teachers down a slippery slope of speeding through progressions in an attempt to add novelty.

Here's a deep thought: If you feel a need to constantly add novelty to your activity perhaps you don't really like the activity. Maybe you should try something else.

As I'm constantly harping to my students, the difference between an expert and an amateur is mastery of the basics. This is true of any discipline and especially important in physical skills. A rule I've set for myself is whenever I'm out training Parkour and don't know what to work on next, I work on landings. My landings still need a lot of work.

I cannot overemphasize the importance of working on basic techniques. There's a saying in the martial arts world that it's better to know how to use one technique a thousand ways than knowing a thousand techniques only one way. That's the not-so-secret secret to "getting good" at anything. It takes work. It takes... discipline.

Discipline is something we've talked about before. I recently saw a link to an piece by Charles Poliquin called "The Myth of Discipline" which is fantastic. If you love what you are doing, love the process of getting better, and love yourself enough to eat well, rest well, and commit the time to practicing, you will improve and you'll avoid the pitfalls mentioned in the yoga article above.

There is an under practiced and under appreciated element of Parkour that (I think) is vitally important: Stopping. I think this is a similarly under practiced element of Discipline/Love. Knowing when to stop and what to walk away from will keep you healthy and safe. Understanding that you might need another month of practice before attempting that asana/lift/jump/etc. takes a deep level of self respect and self control. A month or two down the line, when you are ready, and you successfully perform the movement safely and skillfully, your victory will be all the sweeter.

Anything worth doing is worth the effort of doing correctly.