Walking through familiar crossings
searching for a path I strayed from long ago.
Destiny they called it, but what do they know?
For they have risked nothing but words
at its mystery while ensconced in their refuge.
The comfort once felt is now shrouded in fear,
disguised as ambiguity to the watchful as
darkness envelops the passage.
I have lost the directions I once knew by heart
and blindly follow latent recollections,
desperate for an ending that is never in sight.
One of my most popular posts, and one that I get the most comments on is Why Infants Need Chiropractic Care. Seeing that so many people are searching for this information, I thought I’d do a “Part 2” and go into some more depth. If you missed Part 1, you can catch up here.
For starters, let’s again establish the Why. Why should I take my newborn, even if they are symptom free, to get checked by a chiropractor?
The trauma from the birth process remains an under-publicized and therefore significantly under-treated problem – Gutmann¹
Birth in it’s many different forms can be quite traumatic. While each birth is unique, there is always a chance that the baby suffers some sort of strain due to a variety of reasons. Even the most natural births can result in trauma that goes undetected.
I came to the coffee shop to work but got sidetracked by a photography series called “Rust Never Sleeps.” It’s basically a very well-done series of crisp, defined pictures and angles of old rusty cars abandoned in fields with no purpose left to serve. I love the aesthetics of it, but it also makes me introspective and sad.
These cars were once young, fresh, and new.
They were sought after, desired, status symbols.
Now they are an eye-sore, waste, litter.
DeSoto by Teresa Moore
The artist found a purpose for them, but no one else could. Most of us are too busy in the race for the next best status symbol that we give up on what we have – we throw it away – and we refuse to see the beauty in it until someone with the right lens prints a big enough, high enough quality picture of it to slap us in the face and say “look at the beauty that still exists in me.”
Psychedelic Rust by Scott Mais
I woke up today
Surrounded by madness
It’s never enough
Consumerism sadness
Driving the world
Promising happiness
Buying these things
To cover the darkness
Leaving a trail
That’s empty and callous
Hungry for more
We search for wholeness
Out in the world
Getting lost in the process
Refusing to look
Inward for greatness
Discovering in ourselves
The courage to face this.
Growing with my Son
A child changes a man.
Making him older and younger all at once.
It reminds him of his heritage and legacy
while rediscovering play and his inner child.
It’a a unique time, to grow in both directions.
A time to be savored, cherished, loved.
Embraced.
A child shifts a man’s perspective
From changing the world to raising a family.
It puts what is truly important into focus
Maybe for the first time…
And every time you see a smile, a look of wonder.
It’s wonderful.
A child completes a man
It makes him whole by
Uniting his life across time.
The boy with the man,
The adventurer with the provider,
The magical with reason.
A child makes him a Dad.
I remember our first night like it was yesterday.
In that moment I saw you for the first time,
Beautiful. Free. Magnetic,
I was drawn to you, more than I knew.
Taking your hand, our journey began
Making the world feel brand new.
I remember our first day as husband and wife.
I saw you in all your glory,
Excited. Whole. Electric,
As we bound ourselves together, forever.
Taking your hand, our lives began
Making each day feel brand new.
starlit sky covering
all that is gray
shrouding this blandness
with your deception
creating the mysterious
out of the ordinary
offering hope that more
is hiding out there
…just out of sight and out of reach
this elusive fantasy remains
real until it is seen
and is then lost forever
it’s mythology cut
apart with truth
exposed for what it is
…false hopes and dreams
Today’s post is from my friend Jim Lien. He writes over at Jim’s Primal Suit, and is the developer/programmer behind Is It Paleo and Carbhacker. You can follow him on twitter here.
An app to calculate carb calorie offsets with squats
This post helps to clarify some of the physics and math put into a new app I developed called CarbHacker, which is a carb calorie burning estimator. It may seem like a little bit of hocus pocus, but there is a good amount of math and logic backing the app. Plus it doesn’t hurt that some fitness gurus like Tim Ferriss and Mark Sisson have covered the topic similarly, although without the math behind it. This post covers just one part of the app’s assumptions regarding work and muscular contraction.
Once upon a time there was this magical place in history. People called it “the Eighties.” What made it magical you ask? Colors were bright, hair was big, and games were 8-bit.
At the time, I didn’t know that I was living in what would become the golden age of videogames. I don’t think any of us knew, it just sort of happened around us. Here’s a trip back to that plaid couch in my basement; stomping on Goomba’s, drawing out maps, and eating pizza rolls all while listening to the wonderful bleeps and bloops of chiptune music.
Controller Perfection.
I know I risk sounding like the old codger here who “gamed uphill both ways barefoot in 5 feet of snow,” but I still think simple, linear games on the Nintendo Entertainment System (NES) were superior. You had a clear purpose (that generally involved running from left to right), and limited attempts to accomplish that purpose. The message that the games were sending was clear. Either adapt and improve, or die trying. No fluff, just your skill, two buttons, and a D-pad. Which brings me to my next point…
Time marches on without feeling or pause
Steadily bringing about a changing of the guard.
Greens turn brown, and trees become naked
All is cold and barren but not forgotten.
For Life marches on, just under the surface
Without care or worry of what happens above.
Waiting and growing, for it’s time is near
To rise again and color the Earth
Signifying a season of rebirth.
On and on it goes, you see
Time and Life have a sense of irony.
Beholden to each other
Yet in constant struggle
Until they learn to march hand in hand.
