I Am a Putz

 

You may have noticed (probably much to your relief) that I *did not* talk about pipes and pipe tobaccos last week.  This was intentional on my part, but it does not mean I wasn't thinking about pipes and pipe tobaccos.

Well, I purposefully did not write about the beloved pipes and pipe tobaccos because I felt (and feel) like a putz.  "Putz" is a Yiddish derived term for a stupid or worthless person who engages in inconsequential or worthless activity.  

When I hit the three year mark on refraining from my pipes and pipe tobaccos on February 14th, I had *hoped* I would know and have been able to identify the path that I would then proceed upon in regards to my smoking of my pipes.  But, that did not turn out to be the case.  My initial notion of allowing myself one pipe-full of tobacco once every two weeks felt unsatisfying and unworkable because a) I believe it would take me a great deal of rather taxing mental fortitude to maintain (and I have scant fortitude of any sort in reserve for anything at the moment), and b) I am nearly certain that given my own wishy-washy resolve at the moment would have certainly meant I would have simply returned to my full, pipes-on-demand (smoking my pipes whenever the mood appeared) approach within the matter of a day or two.  

Neither of the above really represented what I *hoped* to do.  So, thus far, I have done nothing.  I am just maintaining "status-quo".  Last week, I purposefully DID NOT write about my pipes and pipe tobaccos because I had feelings of failure about the whole thing.  It is frustrating that I cannot figure out some fashion (yet, anyhow) to successfully do what I hope to do.  I did not write about these emotions because I was sure folks were sick of my yammerings about it and so I tried to ignore the subject on my blog.  But, the subject *did* remain in my mind.  So, what good did my not discussing my emotions on my "emotions" blog do?  Not a whole helluva lot (except perhaps not bore you as much, I guess).  

A friend wrote me an e-mail inquiring as to what path I had taken after the 14th, and was wondering why I had not talked about it on my blog.  I did not reply, although I should.  I did not really know what to say.

+ + + + +

So, for better or worse, I think I still need to have this space BE the space where I work through this pipe and pipe tobacco predicament.  I do apologize that is likely mind-numbing for most.  But, this is an important place for me to try to express and work through various emotions, thoughts, and other things.  So, at least for the time being, there will still be occasional thoughts here about this topic as I hope to eventually find the path that I hope for.  

+ + + + +

Ran 10 miles (~16km) this morning.

162 pounds (73.5kg; 11.5 stone) when I weighed in on Sunday.

Heart Rate = 52 bpm when I first awoke this morning.

Blood Pressure = 100/65 when I awoke. 

+ + + + +

I felt quite ravenous when I sat down to work this morning.  I ate all my breakfast and lunch within about 30 minutes.  I also drank my 64 ounces of iced, black coffee completely before 9:30am.  So, until dinner tonight, I will have only 1 apple and iced water to consume as my dog keeps me company as I cyborg away the remainder of the workday.  Normally, Monday's are face-to-face at the U, but today was the one Monday of the semester that I had this group have an electronic experience as the lab I would normally teach on this day of the semester is not able to be meaningfully conducted while maintaining proper social distancing.  

PipeTobacco

Ashes

 

As yesterday was Ash Wednesday, I of course went to Mass.  And, I also watched the Capuchin's Ash Wednesday Mass while I was running this morning. Both were helpful in guiding me to focus on what I should do.   

I have been thinking about my goals for Lent, and I believe I am compelled to try during this Lenten Season to do something that is very much in an area that will be difficult, but I do feel compelled to work at this:

I am going to work to be forgiving towards the two people at work who have hurt me so, so incredibly deeply.  

Please understand that I had never felt the degree nor intensity of sheer anger and rancor for ANYONE in my whole life like I have felt for these two.  I have been hurt by them in ways I think are wrong for any person to have to feel... ever.  

Yet, that does not mean I am to be given a "pass" in my own responsibilities in how I conduct myself and how I live my life.  So, here are my current thoughts on how I am going to proceed:

1.  I will work to no longer grumble and curse under my breath when I see either of these individuals.  

2.  I will work to no longer grumble and curse under my breath when I THINK of these individuals.

3.  I will work to stop my primary coping strategy which has been to simply try to avoid these two individuals whenever possible.  

4.  I will try to exhibit to these two people the civility and kindness I am supposed to have in my heart, even for them. I have been civil to these two, but I would extract myself from their presence as quickly as I could, and will actually work to talk more fully with them, instead of providing the shortest possible answer to whatever they have asked about.  

5.  I will seek in my heart a way to forgive them, and will work to try to engage with them in ways that are similar to other work colleagues as well.  

^ ^ ^ ^ ^

Lent is meant to be a time for reflection and looking within to evaluate how you can become a better you.  I believe this is what I am finding is the journey I am supposed to take this Lent.  It will be difficult.  But, I am hoping that I can become closer to the better person I strive to be through this struggle, through this work.  

PipeTobacco

Mind Elsewhere

 

I find that even though I am in face-to-face teaching today (Wednesday), my mind is quite "elsewhere".  I do admit to feeling a bit tired as well, since I ran 13.3 miles yesterday, shoveled snow for about 4 hours total over the last two days and also pushed through my 9 miles (9.3 miles actually) this morning on the treadmill starting at 4:30am.  

I should be "gearing up" and getting excited about the face-to-face.  But, the idea of the upcoming 4.5 hours of talking professorially clear and loud through double masks feels daunting and unexciting in my mind today.  

It was -7 degrees Fahrenheit (-22 degrees Celsius) this morning.  My dog was not as interested in frolicking this morning while she did her "duty".  In fact, she was walking around on the cleared path rather gingerly and mincingly and was quickly returning to me to go back inside.  My rusty yet trusty truck seemed to groan in protest as I nudged it along the roadways on my way to the U. 

I have thoughts. I have passions. I have hopes.  I have desires.  I have dreams.  Yet, I am destined to just be an automatron.  Even here, I sometimes feel I talk too much about the inner workings of my mind.  I should probably just shut up, keep my nose to the grindstone, and just do what is expected of me.

PipeTobacco

Effort... effort

 

Yesterday, when I arrived home from the U, I did shovel the driveway and ran 3.2 miles to make sure I had met the minimum 9 total for Monday.

We did get a full 6 inches of very light, blowing snow overnight.  So, beyond the six inches of snow itself, there was considerable blowing and DRIFTING that resulted in drifts of about 20-24 inches along different aspects of the house.  The wind currents this time resulted in the largest of the drifts accumulating along and around the doors of the back porch and the doors for the backyard.  

This initially caused a bit of hesitation in the dog when I first took her out around 5:30am.  She eyed the drift, which was actually taller than her line of vision.  She sat patiently as I attached her "string" to her collar.  This "string" as I call it, is actually a tie-out cable that I use for her when it is dark, just for safety in case there is a racoon, possum, skunk, deer, or angry cat in the yard that I do not see.  If there is an animal like that out there, the dog will become hell-bent on chasing said intruder away.... and any of the five intruders could potentially do quite a bit of harm to our somewhat dull-witted canine.  

Well, after attaching her "string" she eyed the drift again, and then backed up a little bit and proceed to jump up and landed in the drift, with her body sinking into the fluffy snow until it was up to nearly her neck.  This seemed to startle her for a moment, but then she seemed to become invigorated and began to hop and dart all around as far as the "string" would allow her to proceed (from the point of origin, it is about a half circle rough with a radius of 25 feet or so.... so a 1/2 circle of 50 ft diameter).  Because the snow seemed "new" and "exciting" to her because of its fluffy nature, it took longer than usual for her to decide to do her "business".  I initially waited somewhat patiently in my flannel pajamas, but after about 10 minutes, I was getting awfully damn cold and I gruffly told her to hurry up.  She knows the timbre my voice, and within a minute or so did accomplish the needed task so we could go back in.

As today is an online teaching day, I had a bit of flexibility.  So after rubbing as much of the snow off her with a towel as I could, I took her back upstairs so she could get back on the bed and stay with my still slumbering wife.  I disrobed and put my pajamas under my pillow and slipped into my running shorts and headed to the basement for my battle with the treadmill.  

With the long-range forecast for the rest of February looking somewhat "iffy" in regards to any above freezing temperatures that would *possibly* allow the trail to clear sufficiently for safety, I did not want to wait any longer to get the grueling monthly 1/2 marathon run out of the way.  I had been hoping that I could find a way to do this run safely outside, as running outside is a helluva lot better than the damn treadmill, but I have to keep in mind that I am lucky I had the foresight to buy this used treadmill in the late Summer/early Fall last year because I knew with Covid-19 I wouldn't have other options a lot of days.  

So, I had created a plan in my mind on how to best try to accomplish this, if it did have to occur that I would have to run 13.1 miles (~21 km) on the treadmill in one sitting.  The sheer monotony of it, of never really changing position, of seeing the same damn basement wall the whole time, the infernal noise of the machine, and the extreme mental focus that I needed to make sure I would stay centered on the belt of the treadmill and not fall off or hurt myself... seemed very, very daunting.  

I tried to keep my plan simple.... I had to "do" something that would make the time seem to pass with as little monotony as possible.  First and VERY CRITICAL.... I put a "Post-It Note" over the digital display on the treadmill so I would not grow disheartened each and every time I glanced in that direction to check my step position on the belt and see the numbers SO, SO very far away from the goal.  Next, I estimated I would want to begin by first listening to 25 different songs as they played through my Pandora (focused as usual on the late 60s-early 70s groups on my Crosby, Stills, & Nash Channel).  During the quieter songs and during the commercial breaks, I would focus on working through my prayer of the Rosary.  I ended up listening to 27 songs by the time I finished the full five decades of the Rosary.  I then watched the daily Mass from the Capuchin Monastery that was posted from yesterday's Monday Mass.  Only at the conclusion of the last song at this Mass did I begin to consider lifting the "Post-It Note" to see if I was able to finally be finished for the day.  I hesitated for a minute or so, worrying I would still be short of the needed 13.1 miles.  But, I was exhausted, so while still running, I began to gingerly lift up the edge of the "Post-It Note".  Lo and behold.... I had reached 13.3 miles and was very relieved!  I did it!  I kept up my monthly goal of one 1/2 marathon run each month.... and did it on the damnable treadmill!  I will have to check for sure, but I believe this is the 18th consecutive month in a row that I have ran at least one 1/2 Marathon run.  I am awfully glad it is done.  I do so *hope* the March one will be able to be done outside.

I wanted to take a shower and have my coffee and eat, but I truthfully did not want to clean up and THEN LATER in the day have to out and shovel the porches, the driveway, and the sidewalks.  So, I went back upstairs, the dog was sprawled out deep in sleep across most of my part of the bed.  My wife was sitting up in bed, reading a book.  I slipped out of my running shorts, and then proceeded to don long underwear (tops and bottoms), a sweat shirt and sweat pants, and then went downstairs to put on my heavy snowpants and heavy winter coat and proceeded outside to get the shoveling done.  

I was able to get all this finished, and came in and hit the shower and was able to be dressed and at the computer to begin to cyborg just a few minutes before noon.  After all that effort this morning, I can my iced coffee tasted so beautifully and richly bitter that it seemed a gift, and my cereal with blueberries tasted so utterly sweet and creamy.  I felt quite ravenous, and consumed all the food in my lunchbox in less than an hour (I normally *try* to eat slowly and nibble through all the various foods throughout the day).  

I was able to get a reasonable amount of work accomplished for the U too.  I am actually on track.  Perhaps tomorrow, I can nudge myself to be a little ahead of schedule with U work.  

PipeTobacco

Alarming Lack of Success

Due to face-to-face work, I really try hard to get up between 4:30am and 5:00am on Mondays and Wednesdays.  I guess I was tired, but I slept through my alarm... to such an extent that it threw a monkey wrench into my running.

When I finally did get out of bed, I immediately moved the treadmill and tried to accomplish as many miles as possible.  But, I was only barely able to get through six miles before I HAD TO STOP so that I would have the barest minimum of time to get ready and head to and arrive at the U on time.  I will have to run at least three more when I get home, after a long, hard day.  I am not looking forward to it.

Add to this that we had about three inches of snow overnight.... and that means the roads were slow going getting to the U this morning as well.  And, in theory we may get another six inches of snow overnight tonight.  So.... that literally means, I need to try to shovel snow TODAY when I get home, before my run in order to keep up with the snow we will likely get overnight, so I can shovel again tomorrow.   

PipeTobacco

Sunday

 Happy Valentine’s Day to everyone!

I went to early Mass.  It was uplifting to me.  

Today now marks three total years since I refrained fro smoking my pipes.  

PipeTobacco 

Friday

 

Today feels just like "a day".  Just doing "stuff".

I got up at 4:45am and ran 11 miles (~18 km) this morning. With the bit of running outside I did just before dark yesterday (an additional 3.1 miles beyond my normal 9 on the treadmill earlier in the day), I have now met my goal of a minimum of 52 miles (~84km) for the week.  So, I do not really need to run anything on Saturday (may still do a few or at least walk five) and I always walk on Sunday.  

I am working hard on lectures for next week and grading papers.  I was at the U for a while during the morning to work on some projects in my lab.  

I was able to wrap and hide the Valentine's Day gift I had acquired about two weeks ago for my wife.  The gift had been hiding in my "pipe tool box" that I keep in my truck (I wrote about that tool box a few weeks ago, I think). Now the wrapped gift is hiding in the closet under my pile of clean exercise sweat shirts and sweat pants. 

We had a few inches of snow through the day today.  I *should* probably try to shovel it before dark, but I am not really "feeling" it.  I may wait until Saturday morning (and I MAY regret that decision if I do).

I really do not know what to do with my pipe situation.  My thoughts about what to do ricochet back-and-forth all over the place.   Pat mentioned the idea of joining an on-line pipe group for that feeling of camaraderie.  I actually did this about a year-and-a-half ago, because I was missing my pipes and I thought it might help.  It is an interesting enough place, and I have contributed to several discussions.  But it really isn't giving me the deep enough sense of "community" that I am missing.  

I do not really have any "new" thoughts about what I should do.  I *want* to go back to my pipes.  There has really NEVER been anything ever about the hobby I did not relish and enjoy. Pipe smoking was a full-immersion pleasure from my very first bowlful so many, many decades ago.  

At the same time, the "worries" have crept in from elsewhere in my mind.  And, unfortunately it is not as easy nor AS enjoyable to be a pipe smoker in 2021, nor is it AS enjoyable without other pipe smoking relatives and friends.  

Well, that is about it for the moment.  No particularly "deep" thoughts today.  Just a list.

PipeTobacco

Rub of the Brush

 

Ran 10.2 miles (~16.5 km) this morning on the treadmill.  In the Pandora song portion of my run, I was especially enamored with two of the songs that came into the queue today.  I especially liked and enjoyed because of their musicality and because of their lyrics.   The first was "Beginnings"  by Chicago, and the other was "Hand Me Down World" by The Guess Who.  They both featured (to my mind) incredible musicality and lyrics.  I especially like the extended trombone & trumpet solos near the back 1/3 of the Chicago track.  The guitar intro and the percussion on The Guess Who track was excellent.  Both songs resonated with me via their lyrics as well.     

Our dog was still feeling sore and lethargic following her vaccinations a few days ago, so I had to call and cancel/reschedule her grooming appointment for Friday.  She needs more recuperation time.  She did not even want to be brushed this morning because it seems she was very sore.  I did, however, brush a considerable amount of fur off of our cat. He has so much fur that it is amazing how much I can get from him each and every day.  

After yesterday's long day of face-to-face teaching, having to lecture as loudly as I could through double masks, I am very glad to have a fully on-line today at home.  I have been cyborging away since I sat down at 8:10 am.  

I have (of course) been thinking more about what my options are with regards to my pipes.  I unfortunately am still all over the map.  I will list my various thoughts below, but I wanted to also mention a bit of the reading I heard today during the second half of my run when I watched yesterday's time-delayed video of the Capuchin house's daily Mass: 

 The Gospel at Mass had a portion of Mark being read, and in it was:

"And he called the people to him again, and said to them, “Hear me, all of you, and understand:  there is nothing outside a man which by going into him can defile him; but the things which come out of a man are what defile him.”

This struck me significantly and reminded me of what both Frs. Keith & David had told me several years ago. Pipes and pipe smoking are NOT sinful.  It is only my own sin from my own doings that can be sinful.  Fr. Dan (the priest at this Mass) also stated in a very elegant way in his homily the need to work at having purity of heart and mind that helped me to recognize I need to work very strenuously at seeking and living with a heart and mind of forgiveness towards those who have hurt me, and I am trying to get my mind into that focus regarding the two individuals at work regardless of how hard it seems to be to get there. To not work towards that goal would be a failing in myself.

So, where is my scattershot mind at in regards to the potential return to pipes?  I wish the hell I knew, but my mind is like sand at the beach, moving and shifting all over the place.  Here is a listing of my thoughts:

1.  I truthfully WANT to smoke my pipes.  I would like that beautiful "reward" to be back when I accomplish a duty, a task, or something difficult.

2.  I do not know if I have enough energy/gumption to adopt and maintain a "scheduled" occasional indulgence in my pipes.  In some ways I think it could just add another layer of "stress" to my life which has plenty of stressors already.  

3.  I would really like, if I were to start smoking my pipes again, for it to be in the easy, casual, care-free way it HAD been for so many of the early decades/years.  But, I do not know if that is truthfully attainable in the land of 2021.  The world is different.  

4.  I do not want the worry/fear component to return, which was a major factor in my plan to return in a "scheduled" sort of fashion.  So, is the added energy/gumption required to succeed in a "no worry/fear" indulgence perhaps just what I have to accept as necessary?  

5.  I do, of course, know that some facet of my joy of pipe smoking was ingrained within the social aspects of the hobby with the various friends and loved ones with whom I indulged with.  With there being no way for those social aspects to return, am I just chasing after something that is unattainable?  

6.   I do sincerely MISS the part of myself that seems to have disappeared (or perhaps cloistered is a better word?) since I have refrained.  In an EXTERNAL way, it was a facet of my identity, that was obvious.  But, it is perhaps the INTERNAL ways that are more elusive to describe, but I do feel inside. I feel somewhat as if I am a different person.  Maybe that is not quite right, but at some level I am not the "me" whom I knew.  It sounds rather stupid, trying to write it out, so perhaps I will just leave it at that for now.  

So, I guess this is it for the day.  Now I should morph back into the professorial, cyborg "me" and resume the rest of my normal day. I do appreciate though, having this spot to express some of my inner thoughts that do not have any other venue for expression, and I do appreciate your thoughtfulness in reading and in your comments.  

My title, by the way, references a phrase I have heard a few times in watching a few films and television shows of the "Westerns" genre.  The phrase "Rub of the Brush" always stuck in my memory and both amused and bemused me.  It is a term that was coined for the booze stash that a saloon bartender would make where he would pour the remnants of left over drinks from his patrons into an empty bottle for his own indulgence.  Instead of drinking his own profits, he would pour himself a stiff drink from the "Rub of the Brush" bottle when desired (like after the conclusion of a brawl he witnessed in his establishment).  I liked the juxtaposition of this arcane term with the pet brushing I did this morning.

PipeTobacco   

Skinnerian Reward

B. F. Skinner did very classic work with rodents where he developed the theory called "Operant Conditioning".  This theory basically states "Operant conditioning is a type of associative learning process through which the strength of a behavior is modified by reinforcement or punishment. It is also a procedure that is used to bring about such learning."

I regularly discuss his work in several of my classes, and many of his ideas have played a role in much of the ancillary aspects of my research work as well.  He is one of about six prominent biology and/or psychology researchers who did considerable amounts of groundbreaking research in the 1940s  into the early 1970s whose work I especially respect and admire.  

In thinking about operant conditioning a bit more in preparation for a class lecture, I was thinking about how in my life, my pipes and pipe smoking have been truthfully a reward system, a "reinforcement" using the Skinner term, for me throughout much of my life.  It is of course, abundantly obvious that I have always liked pipes, pipe tobaccos, and pipe smoking.  That is however, only part of the picture.  I have always KNOWN, but have not really put into verbiage the idea that I have used and viewed my pipes, and pipe tobaccos, and my smoking of my pipes as a "reward system" for me.  When I would accomplish a "job well done" or force myself to complete a needed but arduous task, or when I would finish an especially laborious and long work day, I would ebulliently and joyfully reach for my pipe as a method to celebrate the accomplishment.  It was a true reward I would grant myself.  

Now, that said, this does not mean that I would not smoke my pipe at other times too.... to help in thinking, to receive solace, etc.  But... I think the "reward" aspect of my usage and indulgence has been always my favorite aspect.  In looking at my recollection of my dream I wrote about yesterday, pipes with my father-in-law were rewards for me, and likely for him as well.  

While there are so many different aspects of pipe smoking that I miss..... the history of it, the memories of it with my father, father-in-law, old college friends,  the way it could help foster my thoughts, the way it would give me comfort when I was sad or upset.... I can say that I *miss* most the enjoyment of my pipes as a reward to myself.  

I have attempted to find and utilize other "rewards" but truth-be-told, none of them (at least not yet, but hell, it is has been a long time) has ever FELT as much like a reward to me as having a pipe does. 

PipeTobacco

 

Triangle

I have been working extremely feverishly to try to get caught back up to a "good" space in terms of my work after having fallen behind due to several "emergency" add-in work associated with poor planning of others during last week that had thrown my own routine for accomplishing my teaching and research out of kilter and shot my schedule all to hell.   I have been working late, late into the evening (usually 2am or so) every evening since last Thursday including during the weekend to catch back up. After an especially rigorous push all day yesterday, I am now about 95% back into a comfortable, predictable schedule for MY work.  This allowed me to go to bed at a much more reasonable time of around 11:30pm, so I had better sleep and it felt good. 

When the klaxon sound of my alarm awoke me at 5:00am this morning, I was in the midst of an exceedingly pleasant dream.  Actually, it was a memory, that was converted into a dream of sorts.  It was a memory as it was of an actual event that I remember vividly, yet it was very much a dream as I could see not only those around me, but also myself as well as if I were a character in a television show or film.  My wife and I had driven over to her parent's house, and it was so extremely hot that it was one of the very few times my in-laws ever turned on their air conditioning.  It was coming up upon my my mother-in-law's 80th birthday (that would have made my father-in-law probably 82 at the time). 

My wife was taking her Mom shopping, and I was going to spend the afternoon with my father-in-law.  After my wife and mother-in-law left, I remember they were actually still backing out of the driveway.... my father-in-law immediately suggested I go fix the two of us a "good stiff drink".  I dutifully complied with the request. :)  He was in a whisky sort of frame-of mind, so I mixed each of us an appropriately "stiff" whisky and 7-up and threw a few ice cubes into each drink as well.  

My father-in-law always sported a bushy mustache his whole adult life.  And, for the last 15 years or so of his life, his mustache was pristinely and vividly white other than the area around his nostrils and the tips of the mustache which had a slightly amber hue from smoking his pipes.  I always admired how white his hair/mustache had become.  As I have stated before, I think I am forever destined to remain the silvery, blue-grey color of a steel-wool pad, for it is how it seems to run on my side of the family.... and that will hinder my ability to pursue a post-retirement option as a "Santa".  

Well, what my point was before I got side-tracked, was that we were both eager to start talking, and also eager to sample our drinks, and we both took rather hearty, deep drinks from our tumblers, and we both loudly guffawed when we lowered our glasses because each of us had considerable droplets of the drink hanging from the ends of our mustaches due to our rather zealous consumption.

We sat and talked politics for a good 45 minutes or so, sometimes being guided into different topics by the news channel playing in the background.  We both dug out our pipes and and began to compare and share the pipe tobaccos we had with us.  With both of us tending towards a preference for the more robust pipe tobaccos, we both settled into having a bowl of a deeply dark, unadorned burley.  Filling our pipes, we ignited the leaf while continuing to discuss all manner of things related to daily life. A bit later, we started to watch a few episodes of the black & white, half-hour version of "Gunsmoke" on tv and as the afternoon progressed, we refilled our tumblers a few more times and had a few more bowls of pipe tobacco.  We grew ever more comfortable and contented.  We talked about the various character actors we knew and recognized from the episodes and just relaxed across the afternoon, feeling content in our day, and feeling a strong camaraderie.  

We both were a little towards the tipsy side by the time our respective wives returned from their shopping spree.  It was a pure, carefree, and enjoyable afternoon.  And, watching it in my dream felt wonderful but upon awakening its memory instilled a bit of melancholy in me. The loss of my friend, and the seemingly insurmountable task of trying to find a way to experience a similar feeling of being carefree in the current time, felt a bit like a yoke upon my shoulders.

* * * * *

By 5:10am I was pounding out what became 10.5 miles (~17km) of effort on the damn treadmill. During the first half of the run I listened to my Pandora channel that is called "Crosby, Still, Nash, & Young" but in the time since I created it, it has morphed into a rotation of CSN, and CSN&Y, but also includes heavy doses of Croce, Chicago, James Taylor, Cat Stevens,  Carol King, and Todd Rundgren.  During the second half of my run, I watched and participated in the daily Mass from Monday of the Capuchin Chapel I like that is streamed daily (I have to watch a day behind as their morning Mass is typically at 9:00am.).  

 * * * * *

As today is a cyber-only day for me at work, I was able to be washed, dressed, and seated in my home office, with my iced coffee by 7:45am to begin cyborging away.  I look about the shelves on my walls, and see my beautiful pipe rack and glass "canister" humidor of pipe tobacco in front of me and realize I am really not much closer to knowing if I have a plan or path I am going to attempt to follow.  One side of my mind just wants to dive in and splurge to my heart's content.  One side has me continuing to search for a moderate yet still pleasing path, and the third side (I must have a triangle shaped brain) just says it is too much work and too much risk and that probably I should just stay in the lane of being devoid of my pipes.  

Speedy lunch break done for the day. Back to work.  Striving to be a bit AHEAD by the end of the day.

PipeTobacco

       

Variety is Spice... Eh?

 

What happened to the weekend?  It seemed to go by too damn quickly for me.

I wanted to relax, but at the same time I was trying to get caught up on work challenges that got the better of me time-wise last week.  So, mostly I worked.  But, I did eek out a few nicer things:

1.  Finished up my running and hit my weekly goal of a minimum of 52 miles  (~84km) a week (I went 53.5 miles (~86km)  this past week.   

2.  Made lasagna with my wife on Sunday for a sit-down meal and games with two of our kids who were available.

3.  Attended Mass.  

4.  Spent about 1/2 an hour practicing the piano (I am trying to work off some rust, for sure, in this regard... having not played in a number of years.)  

In regards to the piano, I have this "pipe dream" sort of vision where I will be able to create some simple background tracks on the piano or perhaps an electronic keyboard if that would end up being better. I want to play some background that I could then use to play my clarinet, bass clarinet, and tenor saxophone solos with.  

In my wildest vision of this "pipe dream" I would then dress in some sort of "artsy" costume..... dark turtleneck, backwards facing snap-brim hat (see above.... these are my favorite hat type, but I typically wear them more "professorially" with the brim facing forward), dark, black-rimmed sunglasses, probably a wild colored vest of some sort...... and go "busking" out in some park, parking lot, or other potential area using a speaker to play a tape of my background music while I play my instrument.    If you are unfamiliar with the term "busking" it is the activity of playing music in the street or another public place usually for voluntary donations.  I wouldn't give a hoot about donations.  I just think it would be fun to get reactions from folks.  

*  *  *  *  *

Pipes and pipe tobacco thoughts have been extremely vivid all weekend as well.  I keep imagining the incredible joy and pleasure it would be to indulge in a bowlful of burley leaf.  I was also thinking about how, since I have been away nearly three years from my pipe tobaccos, that I am sure the nicotinic pathways in my mind have reverted back to nearly how they were prior to my having been in the hobby.  This would mean that the pleasures would be even more richly intensified, sort of like it was when I was a young kid.  

While administering an exam this morning, I was daydreaming in the back of my mind and was thinking through, trying to see how many different aromatic blends (aromatics are not simple unadorned, robust burley pipe tobaccos, but instead are blends of different pipe tobacco leaf types with flavorings added like vanilla, or juniper, or others) I knew I still had in my collection.  I could remember at least 15 different types, but I suspect I am forgetting a few so it may be closer to 20-25.  Even though pure burley is my favorite, I do like aromatics as well.  

I have to get back to work.

PipeTobacco

Speedy Thoughts

 

The situation yesterday took a fair amount of time so I am rather behind in my needed work goals still, and am trying to play "catch up" so today's post is going to be a bit shorter.  

In my mind, I am ruminating about what level of a return could I DO that I would not feel fear/anxiety about?  I have been thinking and I believe that perhaps one bowl a week would be about the maximum I could indulge without the "fear/anxiety" component returning.  And, with that in mind, that is where I came up with the idea of one bowl every two weeks as a bit of added "safety".  

But, I am not really sure how realistic that is for me.  I have several thoughts:

1.  I *believe* I could muscle myself into that sort of schedule, meaning I could WORK to become damn doggedly determined to do exactly that plan.  

2.  But, in the same vein, would such a plan that I would have to WORK at, in effect negate some of the beauty of the return to the hobby because it in some ways *might* be tougher than just abstaining?  

3.  Or, would I, after the initial return to indulging, simply say "to hell with it" and go back to my easy, comfortable, prior pattern?  

4.  If I did adopt the once every two week pattern, would it add back the beauty, the charm, the delight I have been missing these three years?  Or would it seem a hollow and forced return without its esoteric charms of something I simply would do when the mood to do so arose?

* * * * *

I did have one time this week where I was able to run outside before a new snowstorm hit and obliterated (made unsafe) the trail again.  Running outside is so much a joy.  Running on the treadmill is by comparison, just a way to accomplish a task.  

Sorry, but I need to get back to work.

PipeTobacco 

No Time to Think

 A sudden appointment came up relating to an identity theft situation I experienced at the U came up today and it made my plans for work go to hell.  So, I did not get to do a “lunch ramble” today.  

I can say I was deeply wanting to have a pipe while I sat around and waited for all the rigamarole to occur..... it was a strong desire I let myself feel instead of worrying about all the damn work I wasn’t getting done.  :)

PipeTobacco 

Measure of a Man

 

Quick lunch break post again today.  Perhaps even quicker as I am in my U office and have a smaller period of time as today is a day of a lot of face-to-face interaction.  

 With the Covid-19 situation, it is a rather edgy experience when face-to-face. I am pretty bushed already.

With the new recommendation to wear double masks due to the more virulent strain of Covid-19 that is out-and-about in my region.... it is even more challenging to speak to a whole class in a loud, "professorial" voice than it was before with just the one mask.  It makes me rather tired.  I also miss being able to see (and give) non-verbal communication signals (smiles, grins, etc.).  You of course, can see some of it in the crinkling of eyes, etc, but it is a bit stifling at times.  But... it is important for safety.  In some ways I wish I had all my classes on Zoom or Teams or some such platform this semester.  Even though some of my classes ARE in that venue, and there are some challenges to that too.... I think it is a more successful method to deliver "me" and my nuances to the students... in addition to just science content.  

Today is about measuring myself, measuring my life, measuring my behavior.  Like the beaker above that allows one to measure a precise quantity of fluid, I am now thinking if I can lead a measured life.

So, from yesterday, I can say I now recognized a major factor of my refraining from my pipes was to try to live a life where I would not be purposefully doing something that caused fear.   Now that I have gone almost three years without smoking my pipes, I am wondering if there IS a level that I can find comfortable (meaning without having the fear component) that would allow me a return to the beautiful avocation?  Last week when I started to write I initially threw out there a "once every two week" approach as a possibility for it seemed (off the top of my head) that I probably wouldn't find that too worrisome and relatively speaking safe.  

But, I am not sure about a few things:

1.  I am not sure what the actual level of pipe smoking without worry would be for me.  Might I be able to indulge once weekly?  Once a day?  Or never?  I am still reasoning through that.  As the ideas gel more, I will eventually talk about them more.  

2.  If I am able to discern an adoptable, "worry-free" pattern of indulgence, am I physically, emotionally, and spiritually strong enough to adopt and maintain the adoption of this pattern.... or would I be weak and falter back into a greater level of indulgence all too easily and thereby also fall back into the sin of fear?  

Not as long today.  Have to rush back to class.  Probably not as coherent either. :)

PipeTobacco

Another Lunch Ramble

 

... So, in yesterday's post I ended up talking about how Fr. Keith helped me recognize that the sin I was feeling within myself was actually the sin of fear.  Why I was feeling the need to consider refraining from my pipes was that I was feeling worry and fear about the potential harm they may be causing me.  Living in fear for something I was choosing to do could be considered a sin.  

I am appreciative to both Fr. Keith and Fr. David for the insights that they helped me to find.  Fr. Keith also told me that he was not fearful like I appeared to be about smoking a pipe.  For him, it was just what was a part of his day-to-day life.  

* * * *

The recognition of this idea from Fr. Keith was instrumental in my refraining from my pipes at the start of Lent almost three years ago.  I was not so much quitting my beautiful, wonderful pipes and pipe tobaccos (although that was the effect), but instead my effort was to try to not purposefully engage in an action that ultimately was causing me fear and anxiety, because that duality of doing something that I know causes me fear/anxiety is wrong... is a sin... and is something I should reform in myself.  

* * * *

So, the current question is... why did  I have this fear arise? That is the question of the day. 

Well, for a lot of decades and a lot of years I did not have this fear.  I was much like Fr. Keith, in that my smoking a pipe was just a part of my day-to-day life.  It was a part of my life that I truly enjoyed. 

My pipes and pipe tobaccos always helped me to amplify the positives.... happy times were more happy with my pipes, calm contentedness was more calming and more contented with my pipes, joys were more joyful, strong and dutiful work was stronger and with more meaning and purpose, kind actions from me felt even more kind, my patience seemed more vast, my focus was sharper, my life was more alive.  

And, my pipes and pipe tobaccos always helped me to sooth the negatives.... sadness was smoother and less harsh, pain was quieted, griefs were less chaotic and more understood, and difficulties were easier to navigate.  

But... I think that as I have aged, there has been a growing awareness (hmm... not really the right word.... I have always been aware.... I think perhaps a "growing presence" may be more apt) in my mind of the very fragile, finite nature of my time here on Earth.  I have had this manifest in a bunch of ways that I can recognize and probably some that I do not recognize:

1.  Weight.  For much of my life I was what could kindly be called "chubby".  As a kid, when I graduated from high school I weighed 222 pounds.  I basically was that weight for most of my adult life other than a brief period in graduate school where I "slimmed down" a bit to around 200.  But, for a period of my life, when things were especially hectic, I was close to 300 pounds.  This close to 300-pound period was a span of about perhaps four years and then I lost some weight and was fairly close to "normal" at 230-235.  But, in this middle-aged period of time, I did also KNOW that I was still NOT at what was a "healthy" weight.  According to the health and wellness goals associated with the Body Mass Index, I was still considered overweight.  And, I knew this overweight status, was associated with increased risks for heart disease, hypertension, diabetes, etc. as I further aged.  When I came to that "growing presence" in my mind, I began to try to fix my bad behaviors in this regard.  This is how now, for the last almost 15 years, I have been in a "normal" BMI range where my weight has been between 160 and 175 pounds.  It took a helluva lot of effort, it took a lot of change of myself, and it was damn hard at times, but I thought it was something I should do to try to maximize the time here I can potentially have with those that I love. I worked to lose ~130 pounds of myself to achieve this normal BMI.

2.  Exercise.  I was never much of an exerciser during most of my life.  But a while before I actually systematically began to try to reach a normal BMI, I also began to realize that I was missing out on a lot of life with my family by being a quite sedentary person.  And, I began to feel obligated to fix the errors of my ways, even though it was not initially something I enjoyed.  I started out by walking for exercise.  I did this in spurts for a few years where I would walk and then stop walking for a while, walk again for a period of a month or two and peter out again.  But, at about the same time as I started to feel that "growing presence" in my mind, I realized that in order to "fix" a failing, I really had to become damn doggedly determined in my focus, and my actions.  This idea of damned, dogged, determination and grit and unalterable perseverance was what I had to find in myself in order to be able to succeed in earning my Ph.D.  Now, I had begun to realize that this same intensity of focus, this effort, though pain, through sadness, through anger.... had to be the mode I would adopt for trying to muscle myself through something that was hard, something that seemed insurmountable, something that seemed beyond who I was.... truthfully.  It seemed to be the only way I could figure out on how to fix something was wrong in myself.  

Now, as an old, grey-bearded geezer, I run 52 miles a week.  I ran 10 miles this morning on a damn treadmill!  It is my attempt to try to become a better me.

I am quickly running out of time to spew thoughts for today.  Again, I apologize, but these are my deeper inner thoughts, for good or bad.  As Pat mentioned in the comments yesterday, I do seem to have a number of fears.  I am not sure, but I think most of us do, deep inside ourselves.  I know that on the "surface" in my day-to-day world, most do not see this aspect of me (I sure as hell hope not, anyhow).  In my day-to-day, I think I do not seem as all-over-the-map as I do here.  I think I am more of a calm, sage fellow compared to here.  I think I am what is needed of me.  But here.... here you see much more the inner workings of my mind.... you see my insecurities, my failings, my faults, my grief.  Both are me, but you are seeing more of my inner struggles.  

I have to write more tomorrow instead.  I need to get back to cyborging after this brief (albeit, a spewing respite).  So, I guess all of what I have written highlights the fear I feel, and this growing presence of fear of smoking a pipe and how this was a fear that I COULD do something about but that I did not, was the sin I was trying to rectify.  I am trying to slay fear.  But, there is more. Hopefully tomorrow.

PipeTobacco

Fr. Keith & Fr. David

 

About 4-5 years ago, while our parish priest was away on medical leave for several months, two visiting Capuchins, Fr. Keith and Fr. David were alternating with the saying of mass and providing of confessions.  At that time, I was in the midst of an early stage of considering quitting my pipe, because I was thinking it must be sinful to smoke my pipes.  I think I was lead to this notion by the some of the more ardent Fundamentalist Protestant friends (truth-be-told, all who told me this were of the Baptist faith).  

Father Keith is the older of the two, somewhere in his early 80s and is officially "retired" although he substitutes at masses widely to this day.  He also is a pipe smoker, and when I first met him, I knew he indulged in Borkum Riff pipe tobacco, as I saw the easily recognized edge of the pouch of this brand of pipe tobacco just slightly jutting out of his jacket pocket.  He is tall and quite lanky, and wears a mustache and goatee. At that non-Covid-19 time, I was the lay-person responsible for working through a lot of the set-up of various materials in preparation for mass.  When Fr. Keith would be the celebrant, it was his routine after concluding confession... he would at about 1/2 hour before mass began, walk outside into the garden area on the side of our parish and sit in the shade on a concrete bench.  The bench was surrounded by flowers, and he sat there, smoked his pipe and glanced through the notes he had written down for use in his upcoming homily.  He would then return into the church roughly 10-15 minutes before mass was to begin, and talk with me, and other parishioners ahead of the start of mass. 

Father David is younger, only in his late 60s... probably early 70s today.   He is a bit more average height, with a bald head and a beard and mustache. Fr. David does not smoke.  

During the period they were with our parish, I had gone to confession in the presence of one or the other of these priests several different times. On one of the occasions, Among the many wrongs I had spoken of... confessed.... and seeking forgiveness, I also mentioned of a "sin of failing to stop smoking my pipe" to Fr. David, the non-smoker.  

He talked with me for a bit about the sins I had committed, and before receiving absolution, he also specifically stated that smoking a pipe was NOT a sin.  It was a habit, is all.  I think I must have looked at him a bit quizzically, because I had been summarily brow-beaten into seeing my pipe and my pipe smoking as a "sin" by the Fundamentalist Protestant friends I mentioned above.  Fr. David stated that a habit such as that is not a sin, because it is not done in personal defiance of God, nor did it meet the other criteria of what would consistent sin. He further added,

"Of course, it is not great to do for your health, and it can potentially be difficult for a family's finances, but it is truthfully not sinful."

I do not have all his words precisely stated in the above, but this was the gist of his discussion with me.  I was initially surprised by the answer, but as I thought about it more... over the next several days it made more and more sense to me.  I think Fr. David's discussion with me was extremely helpful as I was struggling to grapple with the idea that even though perhaps I WAS sinning... in my heart I could not view my father, my grandfather, my uncles, my father-in-law as being sinful in regards to their smoking of their pipes.  That seemed too harsh and wrong.  And, with the advice from Fr. David, I felt I  better understood, and I felt a sense of relief.  

Still... even though I did not think of my pipe smoking as sinful any longer, my pipe smoking was still bothering me in some way that I could not quite figure out.  It took Fr. Keith to help me better realize what I was experiencing.  

It was perhaps three or four weeks after the discussion with Fr. David when I happened to attend the particular mass being celebrated by Fr. Keith that week.  In confession ahead of mass, I tried as usual to address all of my damnable sins like I always try to do.  It is extremely challenging, because you have to be willing to see and acknowledge your own failings.  I struggle in shame at both the sins I commit, and also at the difficulty I have in acknowledging my sins.  Afterwords, because it was a VERY early Sunday mass and was typically lightly attended, there was no other confessor and there were still a few minutes before Fr. Keith needed to conduct his preparation out in the garden, pipe in hand ahead of mass. 

So, I stayed a bit and told him of the discussion I had with Fr. David, and how it was a relief to me.  And, Fr. Keith nodded.  He already knew I was a pipe smoker, for one time after a Saturday mass, I stayed late after mass finished to do some rather mundane janitorial/cleaning work in the "multipurpose room" that is adjacent to the church building.  I was cleaning and arranging tables, working a bit in mopping the floor, especially in the kitchen area... and I worked on a few other neglected odds and ends.  This is the room in which parish council meetings occur, funeral lunches occur, etc.  He happened to come into the multipurpose room while I was there, and I had been smoking my pipe while doing some of the cleaning, and we both ended up sitting and talking a bit after I had finished my cleaning.  

I'm more than a little bit off track here.... so, back to when I was in confession with him again.  I had told him of my discussion with Fr. David and Fr. Keith nodded in agreement.  But, I then mentioned that I still was feeling a bit out-of-sorts and not sure what to think or feel about my pipe smoking.  

Fr. Keith helped me to see the second part of my answer.  He again, affirmed that my pipe smoking (nor his) was sinful, but he also had me contemplate the idea that perhaps what I was feeling was a sense of worry, a sense of fear about smoking a pipe.  And, I said, sure.... of course I have some of that feeling.  

He then told me, it may be very much THAT.  It may be that FEAR you are needing to think about.  Living a life of fear about something you purposefully do.... that FEAR can be a sin.  

That idea resonated with me on so many different levels.  It helped me to see things in a different light.  

I have to cut off for the moment, as I have finished my miniature, lunch-time, wild, rapid-fire, scattered thoughts-style post, but I have now run out of time and have to get back to classroom cyborging.  As this may not be a complete thought, when I look back later today, I will know if I have said what I needed to say here today, of if I should continue with this tomorrow.     

PipeTobacco