Under the Wire

Well it's 22:04 saturday night so technically it's still this week. I was about 2 miles out of town when I realized I hadn't blogged yet. Can't have that.

So what's going on? My sister, her husband and their 4 yard apes are in town from Toronto. I have spent the week playing jungle gym, quad driver, and grocery getter for the funny farm. My other sister and her husband were up from Calgary for Christmas Eve, but then made tracks for Saskatchewan to be with his family Christmas Day. My brothers have also been acting as entertainment aids for the kids, and between the 3 of us, have kept the little "darlings" out of Oma and Opa's hair. (between you, me and the fence post... Opa doesn't have a lot of hair to protect).

Hmmmmm, what else is going on? Lots, nothing and all that in between. Clearly I'm tired and have nothing to say. Though in an attempt to have others join my misery, I've had the theme song to Pinky and the Brain in my head all day.

For those who know that show... NARF!

'night everybody, I'm going home.

24

24... what a great number. This is a number that blasts the half way point for my weight loss goals! A total of 40 lbs by October 09, and there is that wonderful number, 24.

OH YAH!

This is it protruding posterior! You are history! Gonzo! Fini! Kickin' to the Curb!(literally) Filed under G!

Can I get a BOOOOO-YAH!!!!!!

What a wonderful feeling to have to stop every few steps to hike up the pants. Having to remind yourself to yank up the jeans before you sit down so you don't moon people... it's great!

I can't wait to get under my Saber 2, 210 canopy and have it feel like a circus tent. Not having to slow fly every time I leave the plane. Getting to be one of the floaters instead of always in the base. Finally having to punch it out for the extra speed when flying with the big guys! First person to tell me to put on a weight belt is getting a great big hug!

One more time people, all together and with feeling...

24, BOOOO-YAAAAAH!!!!!

Guardian Angles

Every one has their own belief systems. Some one thing, others something else. Religious beliefs are as diverse as the cultures that have them.

I am not a religious person, though I am spiritual. And I've had plenty of close calls in the past. Saturday night was no exception.

I was on my way home from a Christmas Party. I had been given offers of couches and spare rooms for the night, but I'm a funny duck and like to be in my own bed.... go figure. The night was a lot of fun, and I'm not a drinker, so driving home was no big deal. The highway was good in spite of the melting snow and freezing rain all day, and I was looking forward to a hot shower. I turned onto the road home and slowed down quite a bit below the posted limit. It hadn't been cleared yet, I was airing on the side of caution.

Half way up the big hill, I hit ice. The back end of my truck swung around and up the hill sideways covering both lanes of traffic I went. I turned into the skid and hit the clutch to cut the drive train, but I wasn't losing any speed. I was calm, yet convinced that I was going to go through the guard rail and roll my truck down the hill into the slew. I remember thinking "awh @#$%, I'm dead... well it was fun while it lasted".

I must have let my foot off the clutch, because suddenly I shot forward just enough that I took the guard rail on the back quarter of the truck. My next thoughts were "OH NO!!! My brand new truck! The fender is going to be totaled" I wanted to cry, but still hadn't regained control. I skidded back over to my lane, (and the steep ditch on that side) managing to get everything straightened out.

Finally I had control back, facing the correct direction. I kept going even slower than before and thanked anyone listening I was okay. I was, however, devastated that I had nailed my baby into the rail. When I got home, I took a deep breath and looked at the back end expecting bent metal and scratched red paint.

Nothing, not a mark. I couldn't believe it! I had taken the impact on the tire itself. Save for some rubbing on the side wall of the tire, my truck was completely untouched. I was shocked. I nearly snuffed myself and came out of it with nothing but an adrenaline dump.

Lucky? Try Blessed.

So thanks again GA for having my back! Hopefully the list of ones I owe you doesn't get too much longer. You deserve a raise.

Snow... with a side of Timmies

We are involved with the Adopt a Driveway program here in Stony Plain. In a nut shell, we clean driveways for our community seniors who are unable to do so themselves. Tuesday heralded the first snow of the season, and Team Crane swooped into action. There were four of us from Team Crane, and (special thanks again for being a part time crane) Ms Petrie from Team Dragon. We, and our Sky Capable cousin, made short work of the snow on our assigned driveway/walkway. It took longer to drive back over to Tim Hortons for hot chocolate and donuts than it did to help our senior out. Bottom line, it felt really good.

Our senior, if left with out help, could have fallen and hurt themselves while trying to clean their own place, or just trying to go to the store. Town bylaws force all residence to clean their walk/driveways with in a specific time period or be fined. How helpless must it feel to be stuck, unable to do something for yourself, to not be able to rely on family for what ever reason? Living on a fixed income is hard enough, but to have the added danger of slipping, the threat of being fined, and no one to turn to. It seems to be a very stressful, lonely situation.

But our town has this program, Adopt A Driveway. People volunteer to take on these homes and make a difference in our seniors life. I know I have tried to fuel a friendly competition (okay raging competition) between the teams to make it more fun (which has worked like magic) but now that we have our first snow under our feet, I have put a lot more thought into it. There are still driveways and their owners out there that need us.

As Mrs Halvorson (Crane Extraordinaire) pointed out, it took only a few minutes of our time, the walk way wasn't bad, and we won't let it get bad... so why don't we get more driveways assigned to us? Well, with a few more teams, we could get them for sure! We should all be talking amongst our teams (hint Queen Crane) to see if we want to take on a second location. At the very least, hassling our training mates to get on a team and do something great for our community, not to mention ourselves.

But that's just some random thoughts.... maybe worth thinking about?

PS
To the Tacky Tigers and Loud Leopards..... Our senior sent us a present! HAHA so there!

Playing "Catch Up"... UGH!

I decided to review my numbers the other day just to see where I am at with my goals. I added everything up from Oct 3 to Nov 17. 46 days worth of push ups and sit ups. This is what I found.....

Pushups = 2520, Sit ups = 2480. So I'm thinking... not so bad. I had a badly pulled Abs muscle and couldn't do either for 2 weeks and thought in spite of that, the numbers were looking pretty good.

Then reality set in...

I did the average and found I'm only getting 54.78 push ups/day and 53.91 sit ups/day. Drastically less than half of what I need to be doing. Bottom line, to make up 14 days of injury recovery time, I have to do 28 days at 200/each/day (200 - 125 = 75 extra. 75 X 2 =150... roughly 2 days to make up one). The entire month of February gone just to get back what was lost and not lose any more ground. Harsh but true.

Here's the thing... the idea is to average 125 push ups and sit ups each per day for 13 months. Being very sneaky and devious... I figured I would try to average 150 of each per day and get back into a shape besides round. This way I would be able to complete the required strength outline with out having to kill myself to do it. But slack just one day, and BAM, you're hooped for 2 more.

In spite of this I slacked on my sit ups for 2 days and my push ups for one. Then had the brilliant idea of making them all back up again last night. Translation 600 sit ups and 400 pushups in 4 hours..... but the stupidity continues. I then decide to do 8 rounds of sparring.... which gave me an up set tummy. (what was my first clue?) Only to top it all off with running this morning at the TLC. (I managed to complete running 2k, but had to walk a bit between laps). I hurt sooooooo bad! The best part is I still have my 200 push ups and sit ups to do today. Oh good (not).

memo to me..... the whole slacking thing.... yah, don't do that again!

Do What You Hate

We've all heard the expression "Do What You Love". Applied to careers, school, life in general this expression is a guideline to happiness. A rule of thumb that is accurate and easy to follow. It's easy to do things we love or like. We make time for them, plan it in our schedules, and are protective of the time we allot for these activities.

Do what you hate? Exactly!

In every activity there is something that we don't enjoy or perform to the full potential. Why? Well we dislike or "hate" that part of the activity, so we don't practice. We focus on the things we are already good at and don't sweat the other stuff. We have the luxury of being able to specialize in a task, and leave the other stuff to someone else. Sometimes we are good at something and don't bother learning a more efficient way of doing things simply because what we do is working.

Examples...
.
1 - Flying Kicks, I hate flying kicks. I rarely do them in class and don't enjoy it when I do perform them. They are one set of techniques that I am just not fond of. I could list a bunch of excuses but the bottom line is I don't like them. So when I am practicing or working out, what is the one thing I make sure I do every session? Flying Kicks. I grumble, moan, and finally just bite the bullet and do my flying kicks. Again the only way to get better at something is to do it. And that value that flying kicks provide to my overall flow and timing is incredible. With out practicing them, I would have to find new ways to develop the skills they already provide. End result, I just suck it up and do them. It helps me in a lot of ways and the follow through I learn is a must to succeed.

2 - Running, I hate running. I get tired and my knees start to hurt. Pity party for me, ready, set, awwww! Again I'm not going to whine about it, just say that it's not something I like. However, it is something I practice. It's good for me, bla bla bla, but the point is, by training myself to do the things I don't enjoy, it makes the things I do enjoy easier to do, and more fun.

So on that note, start practicing the things you don't enjoy more than the things you do. Think of the less fun stuff as your vegies and the cool stuff as your cheesecake. It will make you a much more rounded person and martial artist. Last of all, if anyone is interested, I'll be dragging my sorry butt to the TLC Thursday nights at 20:00 hrs starting on the 27th. If anyone wants to share my misery of running laps, you are more than welcome to join the "fun".

Lest We Forget

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day. A day set aside to honor all of the people who died for us and our way of life. A day to honor those who have sacrificed, and those who continue to do so.

What does this really mean? I guarantee most people stop at 11 am and give the moment of silence. But what are they thinking? Are they watching the clock, wondering when the minute will be over? Are they doing a check list of things to do that day? Are they silently humming a song in their head? Are they zoned out and thinking of nothing at all?

What does Remembrance Day mean to you?

It has always been a somber day of reflection for me. I have known many people who have and have not survived wars. Relatives and family friends who fought, lived, died... were forever altered by the ravages of war. I have remembered, I have been thankful, I have run the names in my mind.... and then I have seen the sunrise of the 12th, only to have forgotten, moved on, failed to be mindful. Every now and again we remember, but mostly we wear our poppies and consider ourselves to have shown honor.

Someone I knew, respect, and care for a great deal died last year in Afghanistan. He taught me many things in his life, as he lived what he believed. He died for those beliefs as they took him into a war, knowing that it might be his final act. Not wanting to die, but understanding that it was a very real possibility. One that sadly came true.

In his death, however, he made me realize that we forget. One day a year dedicated to remembering nameless numbers. Ones we understand are men and women, but that is all. An abstract realization. We do not see the families who grieve, save a glimmer on the news, and then it is gone from our minds.

I have thought about my friend everyday since he left for Afghanistan, and every day since he died there. I have cried for him, his family, our friends, and for myself. For every number, there is a person who was loved and will never be forgotten. A family that is no longer whole.

Will they truly be remembered, or will we simply say "Lest We Forget", and move on?

They will be remembered by me, everyday, with respect, honor, and pride. Their families, their friends, all those that loved them and I will not forget. Not again.

To all of our fallen, and their loved ones...

I Remember

Questions

I always tell everyone that they need to have a question at the end of class. There is a reason for this, I'm not just OCDing again. Questions give you answers, true, but more importantly they stimulate thought. If you are not thinking about your training, not finding new ways to apply it, or just making sure you don't have holes in your knowledge, are you really progressing?

I was asked last night if theory questions could be asked at the end of class as that student's "question". The answer is YES! Anything that applies to your training is fair game. I don't cover theory in class very often for the purpose of forcing you guys to ask questions. The answer doesn't have to come from me or another instructor. It can come from your classmates as well. Work together and motivate each other.

Look at the project Ms. Donohue has on kwoon talk. It's a going concern involving students from white to black belt, started by an orange belt who felt she needed to give herself a kick in the pants. And all stemming from the desire to progress, to achieve, and to answer her own personal question.

We are limited only by ourselves and the questions we don't ask. There is not such thing as a stupid question. The only bad questions are the ones we don't ask. Something Master Brinker has mentioned something he respects about me is that if I don't know or understand something, I stop and ask the question. I had never really thought about it until he mentioned it. Sometimes I would feel stupid for not knowing what seemed to be common knowledge, but how else would I learn? Don't let something stand in the way of learning. Take responsibility and get the answers you need by asking the questions.

And for all the smarty pants out there who feel the need to ask what the meaning of life is.... the answer is 42.

End of Season

Sunday marked the last day of skydiving season for Eden North Para School, my home away from Silent River Kung Fu. A sad day, filled with freezing my butt off for a few final jumps. It may have been +2 on the ground, but it was -20 at 13000 feet. I got frost bite on my forehead when I was tracking away for separation. My eyes started watering and it made landing interesting. (no worries, I made a beautiful landing less than a yard from the target) Was it worth it? OH YAH!

My friends (mostly hard core divers, as rookies are to smart to jump in the cold) and I spent time between jumps chatting, drinking hot chocolate, hanging out in manifest to warm up, packing rigs and getting the place ready for winter. There was, as usual, the excitement of building dives, seeing each other, and talking about goals. But there was also a sense of subdued nostalgia about the place. You spend every weekend some place for 7 months, then all of a sudden it's the last one. Bound to make you a bit reflective.

We still hang out in the off season, but everyone has their own lives and responsibilities. And we all suffer from withdraw when there is no jumping. But that gives us something to appreciate and look forward to in the spring. Dusting the cobwebs off our skills and getting back into the blue. Most of the gang will be going to Arizona again this year. I'm feeling particularly sorry for myself that I won't be joining them. But there's always next year.

Looking Back

I had many great experiences when I was in Arizona. Some fun, some exciting, some just outright, well out there. But one of the most profound was when I jumped from the DC3.

The DC3 was a plane had served in WW2 on missions for paratroopers. I know I have talked about it, and probably blogged about it on another site already, but it was a very strong experience. One that has opened my eyes when I didn't know they were closed.

I was excited when the announcement came from manifest that the DC3 was making a load. My friends and I had been talking about the plane and it's history, it's flying abilities, and the coolness factor of being in a plane with it's service record. When the load was announced, we flooded to fill it. It was going to be great. We did the typical tourist thing (had our pics taken in front of the plane before take off) chatted, and got ready for a very cool ride.

On the way up however, my excitement turned to empathy. I was sitting in my seat, geared up and ready to hit the sky, when I started thinking about all the young men who held this seat 60 years before I did. Did they make it home? Were they scared? What did the future have in store for them. They were in a war, away from the people they loved, with no idea how long they had left. They had their objective and each other. Not a whole lot, and yet everything. Where were they going? They had to know that it could be the last moment for them, every moment in a war is potentially your last.

I thought about them on the way up, these nameless soldiers who were willing to give everything for us. I said a silent prayer and I made my jump for them. Small, insignificant, and no where near what they deserved, but it was all I had to give. I still make jumps for them. I have no idea who they are, or what became of them, but I remember and I'm thankful.

Find peace boys.

Talking To Myself Again

Blogging.... As always, an important tool. But what good is the tool when you have nothing to say? Does one always have to have a message? Is it important to give out random thoughts?

Yes, it is.

Journaling or Blogging helps you organize your thoughts..... assuming you have any. (I seem to be lacking them at the moment)

It helps you stay in contact with others and keep them appraised to your life, goals, progress and so on. Bla bla bla.

Well what are my goals? Get back into shape (preferably not round, even though that is a shape). Continue my education in personal interests (I have achieved Coach 1 and am working toward SSI, JM, and Coach 2). Creating new projects for the Kwoon and the community (working on that). Increase my awareness and empathy, and live by the standards I feel are important (working on that too). There are others, but a rendition of personal and professional goals are as much fun to type as they are to read (like watching paint dry).

Why the verbal barrage? Being consistent and practicing follow through is how you achieve goals. I have never been one for journaling or blogging. If I have nothing to say, I skip it (it drove my teachers nuts in school, as my marks were known to reflect). But that is not how one achieves their goals. Taking consistent action, remaining focused, and recording one's progress, that's how it works. So with this most simple of tasks, I am going to succeed. Even if I am just talking to myself.

BTW, for those keeping track, UBBT... I'm in.

Test of Character

This past weekend I took a very intense seminar. I left from the school after classes Thursday night, picked up groceries and dinner, and made the drive to the course location. I arrived around 2330 hr, checked into my hotel, and tried to get some sleep. Friday we were in class from 0830 hr. to 2230 hr. Saturday from 0830 hr. to 2130 hr. and last night from 0830 hr. to 1930 hr. 36 hr. of learning, doing, and intense mental and physical concentration, followed by a 2 hour drive home last night. It was a hard experience, but a very good one.

I bring this up, because when people are tired, induced into stress, and among strangers you tend to see the truer colours of the person. This is not always their best light, but is an assessment to the strength of their character.

I only had met 2 of the 6 people on my course previously. One I know on a casual basis, and the other have met once before. But still, we were all more or less strangers. Over the last 3 days eating, learning, working, and bonding with these people, I have the privilege to say that these strangers are now new friends.

We pulled together in a very short time and worked together to achieve a common goal. We cheered each other on, and pulled each other along when the long days threatened to over take us. It was a very positive experience. Our instructor kept us moving as quickly as he could, and we kept each other motivated with humor, positive reinforcement, and just a touch of lunacy.

I look forward to seeing these people in the future and plan to stay in contact with them. This situation could have been vastly different had we not all been positive people who were excited about what we were doing, willing to make the sacrifices required, and open to and supportive of each other. In my opinion, these people have strong characters, and I'm glad to know them.

Blue ones guys!

Remembering Travis Panasiuk

Travis Panasiuk was a very special student. There are very few people I allow to get close to me. To allow them to see the person behind the instructor. Travis snuck into my heart when I wasn’t looking. That is something he was famous for. He was such a gentle spirit. He had an easy nature, and a warmth that radiated for all to feel.

He was an inspiration to everyone he came into contact with. Everyone found friendship in his very being. Regardless of age, Travis made the person he spoke with feel listened to, understood, and most of all special. He gave of himself freely and asked nothing in return. He would often seem surprised that he was thought so highly of by others. Travis was truly humble, and in that humility was his beauty. Like all people, he wanted to be appreciated and loved, but unlike most people, he did nothing to actively draw attention to himself to receive that much desired attention. Instead he simply was, and in so being, was truly miraculous. He lived that which he wanted the world to be. He lead by example, quietly, and that was his power.

It was hard not to notice Travis. Though soft spoken, he allowed his actions to speak for him, and that was heard by all who knew him, and even those who didn’t. Every instructor hopes for a student like Travis. One who has the passion for what he was learning, regardless of the lesson. A student who never gave up in the face of failure. A person who embraces the ideals of bettering themselves and in so doing, betters the world around him. A student by their presence alone inspires others to become better people. As an instructor of 17 years, I strive to have the impact on others that this young man had on everyone around him, including me.

It was hard not to think of Travis as a little brother. I felt very protective of him, and hoped with all my heart that the goals he set for himself would be realized. That the world would return the kindness and beauty he showed it. I miss him and hurt every time I realize I will never again see him walk through the door, black hat, warm smile and all. Travis has changed our school, he will always have a home here, and in the hearts of those who knew him. I miss him, now and always.

Find peace Travis, and know you made a difference.

Sifu Lisa Freitag

Making a difference

I'm not one for mushy internet poems, friendship lovie dovie nonsense, or pass the message along stuff. I have no idea if this is true or not (probably not), but the message is very clear, at least to me. This was sent to me by a friend, and I feel that it reenforces that we need to look beyond your preconceived notions of people. There is more to most people than we give them credit for. How many of us have judged people, and treated them according to that judgement with out really understanding what has taken them to where they are? I'm guilty of it. I also know that a world that uses more empathy and less social judgment is with in our grasp. All we have to do is start practicing what we preach.

So with out further ado, here's the mushy stuff, with a strong message.


As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the fron t row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.



Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big 'F' at the top of his papers.



At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.



Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, 'Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around. .'



His second grade teacher wrote, 'Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle.'



His third grade teacher wrote, 'His moth er's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but h is father doesn't show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken.'



Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, 'Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class.'



By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, ex cept for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, 'Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to.'


After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, sh e quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her 'teacher's pets..'



A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.



Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.



Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honours. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favourite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.



Then four more years passed and yet another letter cam e. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, h e decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favourite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.



The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of cou rse, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the o ne with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.



They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, 'Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference.'



Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, 'Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you.'



(For you that don't know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)

Stupid Hurts

I have had my fair share of close calls. Most of you have heard my stories about horse training, farming, and the car accident. The sad part is, most of theses were avoidable by doing some common sense thinking and action taking.

Yesterday I had another close call, I was in total control of the situation.... I just messed it up. It was a stupid mistake, and it could have cost me a lot more than a talk with a concerned superior. What happened? Well here's the whole story.

I'm a novice skydiver. I have been working on higher licensing with my skydiving. I have been dedicating a lot of time to it, and am very passionate about it. My ultimate goals involve teaching the sport, becoming a tandem master, and eventually competing at a professional level. I am very concerned with safety, and with precision. I take any mistakes very seriously, and welcome all advise of my fellow divers and instructors. Everything happens in a few seconds. I jump from 12500 feet and and pull at 3500 feet. Time elapsed? Around 50 seconds.

In order to move up in levels, you have to be competent in different tasks and skills, just like any other activity. My pull height is 3500 feet. When you are going to deploy your main canopy, you take a few steps to make sure everyone else in the air is safe and we all know where we are in relation to each other. 1st, you track (move your self forward into open air space away from anyone else to avoid a collision) 2nd, you wave off (wave your arms in front of your head to clearly signal your intent to deploy) 3rd, continue your motion of the wave off, and pull your pilot chute, 4th check your canopy to make sure you are not having a malfunction (correctable or not), and take the needed action.

The equipment I use has a safety device called a Cypris. What this does, is measure the altitude and fall rate. If you are traveling above a certain speed at a certain height, it deploys your reserve chute. (it fires at 1000 feet) It's designed to save your life, and I came very close yesterday to proving it's worth.

My dive was going fine, I was practicing my skills, checking my alti to determine my height, everything normal. At around 4100 feet, I started my track, as usual. When you track you do a 3 count, get stable and move to step 2, wave and deploy (count to 3 in your head and you have fallen 1000 feet). I messed up my count. I stayed in my track too long and ended up coming out of it just below 2500 feet.

I was already reaching for my pilot chute as I was checking my alti (a habit I have). Instantly I realized I had messed up and was way to low. All that was going through my mind was PULL! Get that chute open NOW! It snapped open, was flyable and safe, and I checked my altitude. 1450 feet, my main chute beat my Cypris by less than 2 seconds. I landed on the first spot of open ground I could find. Some of the guys came to get me with the gator. The first thing out of their mouth was "What the beep were you doing in the basement?!" What could I say but, I screwed up. On the way back, one of the instructors waved us over. One of the guys pointed out that I wasn't going to "get away with it". Not that it mattered, as I told them, I would have come clean anyway. Taking responsibility for your actions isn't something you just talk about.

While it was happening, I was calm. I my training was in place and I took charge of a bad situation, did what I had to do, and came through it alive. A situation that could have been a lot worse. But when I was talking to my instructor later, and explaining what happened, I was very upset. I felt like a fool. I made a stupid mistake, and it could have gotten me killed. At that height, a cut away is very risky. Then there's the other factors, what if my Cypris was malfunctioning and I didn't really have it as a back up? What if my equipment didn't have a Cypris in the first place? What if I didn't check my alti?

There was a lot that could have gone wrong, which is why there is so many safety checks built into every jump. Check your gear when you put it on, have someone check it for you before you get in the plane, and again before you jump. While in your jump, check your altimeter every few seconds and stay aware of your height. Check your air space for others. When in doubt pull! Always pull before 2500 feet. These are the rules we follow, and they are in place for a reason.

I have a shirt that says "you'll be fine as long as you don't do anything stupid". I think it's more true than ever, and I have learned something valuable. It will aid me in the future, and hopefully help others avoid my mistakes.

Plastic Bags and Leadership?

Part of being a leader is walking the walk, and part is encouraging others to walk with you. I have been working hard on my family to stop using plastic bags. The amount of plastic bags that get into our land fills is obscene (counting the ones that end up there when they have been reused as garbage bags) and they almost all end up there because it is cheeper to make more plastic bags than to recycle them. There are fewer facilities that handle plastic bags and all around they become a pain with no where to stick them.

So what’s the alternative. Well, many stores are selling reusable cloth bags for @ $0.99. The are larger, less ugly than you would expect, and hold a lot more than plastic with considerably greater strength. The catch, you actually have to take them with you.

Here’s my thoughts on the subject. I am trying to abolish plastic from my family’s house holds. So far I have converted one of my sisters and my mom. I have them using the reusable cloth bags and have given them some hints how to make it more convenient.

For starters, I have them keep the bags in their vehicles. 3-5 bags per vehicle. Just roll them up and stuff them into one of the bags. It takes up very little room, and it’s easier to remember to use them if they are right there with you. If I am picking up a few items, I just tell the cashier that I don’t need a bag. You get funny looks from some people, but I’m used to that.

I am also trying to get them out of the habit of using garbage bags. I know this sounds gross but think about it for a minute. If you have a garbage can with a solid bottom, to empty it, just dump it into a sealable bin, and hose it out with the garden hose. Give it a shot of Lysol or Mr. Clean for good measure and take it back in the house. (vinegar, lemon grass extract, or tea tree oil also works wonders if you want a non chemical alternative) Sealing the lid will prevent it from stinking up the whole yard, and keep the critters out of it as well. When the bin is full, I make sure it is sealed and strap it into the box of my truck (trunk of your car works too). Then it’s off to the land fill, recycle centre, ex. where the bin is opened, jumped and strapped back into my truck. Quick stop at the gas station to hose it out with the pressure washer, and once again, Robert’s your Fathers Brother.

So here’s my challenge, count how many plastic bags you get in one week, from the supermarkets, clothing stores, parts departments, what ever. (make it a week that you actually shop) Then multiply that by 53 to get how many you use in a year. It’s pretty scary. And for $5 you can drop that number to zero. It’s not a big change, it’s not expensive, and once it’s a habit to take the bags with you, it’s really not inconvenient. So I challenge all takers to try and eliminate plastic bags from their homes.

So cool!

We were getting ready to leave Arizona in January this year, (we had just spent 10 days skydiving) when one of my friends said to me "I have the coolest friends! How cool are we? How many people do what we do for fun? We are so awesome!"

I remember smiling and thinking at first “wow, that’s not arrogant haha”, and then I thought “ya I guess she's right.” How many people accomplish the things we do?

Then I thought about Silent River, and everyone there. And I think "How cool are we! How many people accomplish what we do?" Then it hits me. Not cool, lucky. Here I have all these people who are inspired to learn, to grow, and to be better people, and I get to be a part of that. I get to learn, experience and accomplish along side over 300 people from beginners to Black Belts. And we all have something in common. We have each other, and Kung Fu.

Not everyone has this type of opportunity or community. Not everyone can say that they have the support and ability to do the things we do. We are very lucky.... and cool.

Black Belts Don't Play Nice in the Sandbox

Sifu Dennis made a passing comment to me. “Black Belts don’t play nice in the sandbox.” A small off handed joke. Suddenly the epiphany strikes. How true is this. We are tough (mentally and physically), aggressive, we can turn it on or off, we have single minded determination and follow through, we set goals and expectations high, we strive to improve, we lead by whatever means we have, and we commit 100% to anything we choose to undertake. We “play for keeps”.

There are no funsies as a Black Belt. I’m not saying we don’t have fun, or that we don’t work with our partners, but that when we are executing that punch, we are just as focused as when we are performing that block. There is nothing else in the world besides what we are doing when we are doing it. You can actually see the expressions of the face and the language of the body change. It’s all or nothing, and it’s all about that one moment.

And that’s how we like it.

Through Black Belt Eyes

All of the Black Belts in our school, and more than likely a good many of the queue students, have heard the term "Black Belt Eyes". This term is used to remind us to have empathy for others, especially those who seem to struggle more with their techniques or have less natural ability. Black Belt Eyes means that our perspective is tainted by years of work and acquired ability. When I say tainted, I mean that we have forgotten what it was like to struggle through basic techniques, what it is like not to immediately understand what is expected of us, or to lack the advantage of having our knowledge return to us with in a few repetitions and having the confidence that goes with these securities.

I realize how arrogant this must sound, but my intention is to explain why "Black Belt Eyes" is a negative thing. Seeing things through Black Belt Eyes means that you do not empathize, and you have forgotten the fundamentals of relating to your students. It can mean that you have forgotten that the things that appeal to you, won't necessarily appeal to your students. It can mean that you have gotten impatient with your students for their lack of understanding, instead of being frustrated with yourself for your inability to properly communicate. It can be as simple as being arrogant enough to think "back in the day this was better, or we had it harder". How can you truly compare your struggle, triumphs, and perspective with another's? Better luck with apples and kangaroos on that one.

So by now you are probably thinking "Yippee Skippy! What does this verbal diarrhea have to do with anything?"

Confession.... As far as having Black Belt Eyes goes, I'm probably the worst one you are going to meet. I have very high expectations, and well lets face it, I have been referred to as a pit bull on more than one occasion. Believe it or not, I actually enjoy being viewed in this light. In my opinion it shows how fiercely devoted and loyal I am to Kung Fu, our school, and all the members therein. I'm an all or nothing type of person, and my world is exclusively "black and white". If my passion for Kung Fu was not as intense, it would be non existent, and I would have lead a very different life. But that is another story, one that most likely will not get told.

So yes, I have a bad case of Black Belt Eyes, and no it is not a good thing. I am, however, receiving MANY valuable lessons in humility and empathy at the moment. In the last year or so, I have started exploring personal interests that have been on "hold" as it were. These are physical activities that are fun, intense, and challenging. They have also been a real reality check for me. Suddenly I'm a white belt again. Not so much fun.

Lets put it in perspective. For my entire adult life I have been a Black Belt. I have a good understanding of the Martial Arts, and am excited to discover new things, confident that I have the basics and instincts to keep me safe even when pushing my comfort zone and stretching my element. After nearly 17 years, one should hope so. Needless to say, one can get an inflated ego, and in many ways, we are all guilty of this.

So here I am, learning challenging new things and literally stumbling over my feet and landing on my face or butt, over and over and over, much to my instructor’s intense entertainment. (Thank you Master Brinker for teaching me break falls!) And through it all, am I having patience with myself, encouraging myself to keep going? I'm just learning after all, and I've got the rest of my life to figure it out, and get it right. All the things I preach to my students, am I putting them into practice? NO! Not even close. There I am ... angry, frustrated, and practically snarling because I'm a black belt and I should be able to get it right! It's not rocket science after all! What's the matter with me? This should be child's play! I'm a Black Belt, I can do anything I set my mind to. All Black Belts eat flour and poop cupcakes! Who does this sport think it is, kicking my butt? I am Black Belt! Hear my tantrum!

So now back to reality. I look at myself and shake my head. I have all the tools, understanding, and desire to accomplish my goals. I have some natural ability, and more than enough work ethic. What I lack is patience and empathy for myself. Like I said before, I have extremely high expectations, and no matter how high they are for others, they are higher for me. And when I don't get what I want, when I want it, so rears the Fire Dragon personality. And I don't even get the comfort of saying "I don't know better" than to get this frustrated with myself.

What has this taught me? A lot! I look at my students with a whole new understanding of their struggle, their courage, and their passion. Suddenly I don't have to try to remember what they are going through, I'm experiencing it with them, even if it is in a different way. The Black Belt Eyes are still there, but I have a new way of qualifying them, and an easier time of telling myself to snap back into the real world.