Earth Weights

I reached out to my Mom recently seeking some advice and wisdom regarding a burden I’ve been carrying around for some time. As always, she reminded me of the benefits of gratitude, the power of prayer, and the importance of expressing my true nature.

It’s wisdom I’m fortunate enough to have heard throughout my life and applicable regardless of life’s circumstances. Hearing it again was enough to snap me out of my funk and lift my spirits a bit. But Mom also said something to me in our conversation that I hadn’t heard that stopped me cold in my tracks. “Eric, you need to drop those earth weights.”

I had to laugh, as I have been an avid weightlifter for nearly 30 years. I started lifting weights in college. Not being a super athletic kid, I had never actually even been in a weight room during my formative high school years. But once I was introduced to pumping iron, I was hooked. From that fateful day my college roommate Chris took me to my campus weight room, I’ve been a gym rat ever since. 

There was a feeling of control that I loved in fitness and the simplicity of the notion that effort + intensity = results. While I couldn’t control my God given attributes like being smart, handsome, or athletic, I could control the sets and reps in the gym. It’s a lifelong habit that I have always been proud of. While the virtues of a consistent fitness regimen are widely touted and too many to list, a passionate dedication to exercise has also led me to my professional vocation in fitness.

Indeed, weightlifting has been a big part of my life, but recently I have come to realize that my exercise wasn’t the only ‘weightlifting’ habit I picked up in college. Metaphorically speaking, the hindrance of carrying around emotionally heavy weights was also an obsession I picked up as a young man. My personal and professional aspirations also came with underlying currents of seeking validation and approval from others.

One of life’s heaviest burdens is the desire for popularity, whether it’s the approval of Mom and Dad, fitting in with peers, or climbing the corporate ladder. For me, I was the perfect storm for an approval-seeking fixation - an actor striving for applause, a writer hoping for ‘likes,’ and the common individual seeking acceptance from his friends and family. Add in the fact that I am a known pack rat (I sill have baseball cards from my childhood, countless collectibles, and even hundreds of CD’s I’ve acquired over the years) and I’ve always been a prime candidate for lugging heavy loads around. It’s no wonder I took to weightlifting with such vigor and enthusiasm!

Too much ‘weight training’ over the years has taken a toll on me both physically and emotionally. My back hurts chronically from too many squats and deadlifts and my stomach hurts frequently from too much anxiety. In confronting the false notion of physical control, I’ve also noticed the ball and chain of the emotional weight that I’ve been schlepping around from place to place. This awareness has allowed me to practice releasing the burden of resistance and instead develop flexibility, adaptability, and acceptance.

The strain of lugging around the heavy load of earth weights is something all of us deal with and with the constant bombardment of technology and social media; the desire for validation seems particularly acute these days. The constant striving for approval must be confronted or the inevitable hardships disappointments and traumas get heavier and harder to move around. If not dealt with and tossed aside along the way, at some our earth weights point become simply unbearable.

In the Bible we are instructed to “love our neighbors as we love ourselves.” While many follow the command to rightfully treat others with empathy, dignity and respect, sometimes lost in the shuffle is how we treat ourselves. As our society falls deeper into the abyss of narcissism, addiction, and distraction, one common theme emerges – a lack of self-love.

Peeling back the layers of the primal urge to feel necessary and loved brings one full-circle to the true foundation of self-love. Loving your neighbor, establishing purpose, and finding happiness doesn’t start with establishing what we like or who we love; it starts with loving ourselves. To truly love with authenticity, we need to free ourselves of excess baggage and heal our open wounds. To do so can only be achieved when we finally drop those earth weights and step into selfless love.

The Oregon Trail

As a child my family would frequently visit relatives in New York. The "Empire City" captivated me with its towering skyscrapers, hot dogs and pretzels, Broadway, and of course, the Yankees. Coming from the quaint town of Portland, Oregon, the Big Apple felt like the center of the universe. On my return trips home I always wondered why my parents left such a mecca for the sleepy confines of the Pacific Northwest.

For the life of me, I couldn’t see the appeal of a tiny hamlet like Portland compared with the glitz and glamour of New York. The “Rose City” was a place for hippies and lumberjacks, and I didn’t plan on becoming either. When you’d mention Portland to a New Yorker their response was always the same - a shoulder shrug of indifference.

Still, I eventually grew to love my hometown with its majestic beauty and art-inspired culture. While Portland will never be confused with New York, it certainly holds its own these days. But it isn’t the food trucks, Powell’s Books, or the hipsters that make 'Portlandia' great, it’s the spirit of the place - The rugged sense of adventure and the willingness to explore what moves us on the inside by changing our circumstances on the outside. That spirit is woven in to the fabric of the Pacific NW dating back to the most famous thing to ever occur there – the Oregon Trail.  

The Oregon Trail isn’t just an old dirt road talked about in history books or a cheesy 80s computer game, it’s a quest and an energy that lives on to this day. Many risked their lives and livelihoods exploring our nation’s final frontier. While some sought to stake a claim on cheap land and others simply wanted a rush of adventure, those that braved the trail all shared a common theme – leaving the old to discover the new.

This sense of uncovering and unearthing our destiny is our ultimate task spiritually, emotionally and professionally. Nike founder Phil Knight referenced this spirit in his compelling biography Shoe Dog. Knight’s famous college running coach and mentor Bill Bowerman frequently used the Oregon Trail lore in an effort to inspire his runners like Knight and the legendary Steve Prefontaine. “The cowards never started, and the weak died along the way. That leaves us,” Bowerman would say.

Says Knight, “Some rare strain of pioneer spirit was discovered along that trail, my teacher believed, some outsized sense of possibility mixed with a diminished capacity for pessimism – and it was our job as Oregonians to keep that strain alive.” The sentiment struck a chord with Knight inspiring him not only to run faster, but also to pursue a new way to express how we play. In doing so, Knight and Bowerman changed the world of running, sport, fashion, and culture.

In describing his own quest Knight explained, “Deep down I was searching for something else, something more. I had an aching sense that our time is short, shorter than we ever know, short as a morning run, and I wanted mine to be meaningful. And purposeful. And creative. And important. Above all…different. I wanted to leave a mark on the world. I wanted to win. No, that’s not right. I simply didn’t want to lose.” It wasn’t dumb luck, playing the game, or even hard work that propelled Nike to one of the biggest brands in history but belief, optimism, and the resolve to chart a new course.

Though a New Yorker by birth, My Dad (also named Phil) is an Oregonian in spirit. Like millions before them, my parents blazed their own trail back in the day, renting a small U-Haul and making the trek across the country to start a family and new life among the Doug fir trees and the peaceniks. They missed the food and the energy of Manhattan, but they never looked back. The trail was out there in front of them.

While New York personifies the traditional pinnacle of success and the height of commerce and culture, the Oregon Trail represents a different narrative - Bigger, better, and louder isn’t the metric of success, purpose and authenticity are. Success on ‘the trail’ isn’t about climbing the ladder, but about displaying courage and risking it all to discover your true destiny.

Like the two Phil’s, my aspiration has long been to have enough fortitude to trade the known world for purpose and meaning. My dream is to live a life that manifests the qualities of serenity, peace, and creativity. I imagine an open sky and pray for an open mind. On my quest, I’ve tried my hand at being a salesperson, dot-comer, and actor, a trainer, manager, and a writer. I’ve lived downtown, uptown and in the suburbs. I’ve tried the mountains, the city, and the ocean.

What I’ve learned is that it isn’t the vocation or the location that matters, but grit and the willingness to wrestle with the important questions of the day. Thankfully, I’m not alone on the journey as faith, family and friends are constant companions. I not only possess the support of those close to me, but when the trail seems particularly daunting, lonely and treacherous, I have the courageous examples of others right beside me -

·      My best friend faced the biggest trauma of his life by reinventing himself and finding the courage to pursue his true calling as an actor. He’s now the artistic director of a theater company.

·      A former colleague of mine left her long and successful career in fitness to go back to school and pursue her life long dream of living in Paris where she now resides.

·      One of my childhood friends recently moved to the Mojave desert to live off the grid, open a music studio, ironically leaving Oregon to do so.

The Oregon Trail isn’t about Oregon being an answer any more than it’s about New York symbolizing a status quo to leave behind. The grass isn’t any greener in Oregon (actually it is, but you know what I mean!) than in New York. The meaning of life isn’t found in a new place and you can’t simply leave your problems behind by changing addresses. What matters is facing adversity, the ability to adapt, and the resolve to change courses when you’ve lost your way. For that matter, true satisfaction and bliss can be found without ever leaving home...But I’ll take my chances out here on the trail.

The Oregon Trail is a metaphor for life and we all have the capacity to be frontiersmen and women and explore the boundaries of possibility and wonder. Brené Brown calls this quest Daring Greatly. Another author described the trail metaphor in this way: “Life is full of distractions. It's full of people telling you can't cross mountains and can't achieve your dreams. It's full of disease. It's full of people you love getting sick...It's full of mistakes, miscalculations, and missed opportunities. It's confusing and too short and too long.”

Life is worth living and truly doing so means risking disappointment and heartbreak. Choosing the trail is about confronting the nagging questions, pursuing callings and passions, and most of all, the willingness to fail. I’m still in the covered wagon crossing the rugged mountains and barren plains, but my heart is open and my spirit is full of hope and wonder.

Riders on the Storm

So apparently, there's a chance I am (or was) Jim Morrison! I came across this realization after experiencing one of the most vivid dreams I’ve ever had. In my dream, I actually became the figure of Jim, performing “Break on Through” as well as his last ever written song, “Riders on the Storm.” In typical Doors-like fashion, the dream was mysterious, hazy, and very strange. I even forgot some of the lyrics to ‘my’ own song while performing in front of a sea of people in a dark auditorium.

Feeling moved by the experience, I had the dream interpreted with the help of a ‘spiritual director.’ After some research, I realized Morrison died just a few days before I was born. This fact pretty much sealed my assertion and my dream advisor’s hypothesis and half-joking suggestion that I once lived as Morrison in a previous life.

As I took the dream analysis a step further though, the focus became less about the figure of Jim Morrison and more about the two songs featured in my dream. Why these two songs and what do they mean? At the time, “Break on Through” (to the other side) seemed a more prominent theme in my life and somewhat obvious in meaning and application – to break through the noise, clutter, and my shadow self and live authentically. To break through the preconceived notions of how things should be and act truthfully instead of acting in accordance with trying to please others.

Breaking through has been a continual battle in my life, but the song that has ultimately struck a lasting chord with me is “Riders.” At the time of my dream, I had just come out of a storm and a major life change (divorce, move, and professional transition). The timing and metaphor of riding on the storm seemed highly appropriate. After a short time though, my storm passed as did the memory of the dream. It was back to smooth sailing.

The other day, I happened to be quietly sitting at work when “Riders on the Storm” came on the radio. I was immediately struck again by the song and its underlying meaning. Literal storm waters have again been brewing in recent months. As I embark on yet another life shift (marriage, move, and professional transition), the prospect of a stormy uncertainty lurks.

With change again on my mind, I decided to dig a little deeper into some of ‘my’ lyrics and meaning. My initial analysis on "Riders" had much to do with marinating on the storms of life and the importance of riding or surfing on the wave, versus getting swallowed up in the tumultuous waters. But taking a harder look at Morrison’s lyrics have brought additional insight to the meaning. Some phrases seem obvious such as “Into this world we’re thrown” and “like a dog without a bone.” However, one phrase has jumped out at me in particular – “An actor out on loan.”

I took a look at some of the comments online and found the following analysis:

“’An Actor out on loan’ is a metaphor for powerlessness. It’s an old theater and movie term, dating back to the days of the studio system, when many contract actors had no control over their own careers…studio officials could hire them out on a whim to other studios for parts that could be destructive of their own careers. The first thing an actor did when he was in sufficient demand to dictate his own terms was to eliminate that clause in their contracts with the studios."

"An actor goes out there and if he is to be marvelous or even worth his salt he must be naked to the soul, exposed to the core. Vulnerable beyond belief. He must be his most private self in the most public of places. In front of the whole world."

Indeed, we are all ‘actors’ on our own journeys and life’s storms present our biggest stages. This week I spoke with an acquaintance who was recently in Las Vegas and at the tragic concert shooting. In a stormy moment of gunfire and panic, his immediate instinct was to help those who were wounded and to assist others in dragging them to safety. His genuine nature to act with compassion and dignity were apparent even in the very darkest imaginable human circumstances.

Hopefully, most of us can live full and meaningful lives without having to encounter such a horrific tragedy. But it is a certainty that all of us will encounter storms. Some of those storms will be powerful and even beyond our control. But as ‘actors out on loan,’ it is up to us to find the naked vulnerability to rise to the occasion and find our own truth and humility. It is only through such authenticity that we can ride the wave safely to reach the calm waters once again.