I AM CLEAR FOR STRONGMAN!

May/16th/2012
I AM CLEAR FOR STRONGMAN!
LET THE GAMES BEGIN (AGAIN)!

Slowly Mongo Returns...

Mongo happy. After 4 months, breathing moldy moo-sweat smell of SHS weightroom again...Mongo happy. Still not allowed to lift anything close to "Mongo heavy"...but Mongo...is happy. Mongo can chase "slow" cars...he is happy. Still wearing stupid brace for belly and back...but Mongo is happy. Mongo looks forward to day when he can flip tire and Wing Tsun someone's face...but for now...Mongo is...happy.
                              Slowly...Mongo...Returns.
                               3/26/12

Coyotes aren't the only beasties invading Old Greenwich

Who's a pretty Yeti...
You're a pretty Yeti...

Shaolin+Monk+Master+Super+Speed

Shaolin Goodness...Look at his torso speed...  impressive skill to add to combat.Click Link:
http://youtu.be/YRSzBzgVEUA

Barefoot at the Beach

Barefoot at the beach yesterday. Put my feet in the ocean. Sooo cold. Sooo good. Can't wait until I am cleared to swim. Maybe by the end of the month.

Big East & Beers with My Master

A student took his zen master to a Big East Tournament game.
Who are you cheering for master?
I was cheering for the woman who caught the peanuts that that man with the cart threw to her. Great catch.
No...I mean which team, UCONN or Syracuse?
Which one are you, cheering for?
Syracuse, baby...Go Orange!
Why?
I went to college there.
Where?
Syracuse.
Where's Syracuse?
Upstate New York.
Ahhh. And where is upstate New York?
On a map?
What country?
U.S.-- Did you sneak a beer while I was...at the bathroom?
And where is UCONN.
Connecticut?
What--?
--Country? United States.
I will cheer for the American team.
They are both American teams.
I see a Chinese boy on the court. Is he American.
No they...
Ahh. I will vote for the World Team!
But that's not the point--
What are the players made of?
Slim Jims and Red Bull (grumble).
No. That's what they ate. What are they made of?
Bones. Blood?
No. The little stuff.
Cells, atoms?
And they?
Pudding made from the curdled sweat of angels who dance on pin heads.
What? I am getting deaf in my old age.
Nothing. They are made of the stuff between stuff.
Oh look the game is over. That was most fun.
Son-of-a...!
What is wrong? We all won?
(mutter) The beer guy still serving?
He is all out. I drank the last one while you were in the bathroom, my son.

What is Real?

What is real? Everything. Nothing.

(The beard though, transcends all...
until I shave it and

donate it to make hair plugs

for balding wolverines.)

Okay...enough about the beard.

Time to talk about healing...
About the prize always in hand,

only seeming to be just out of reach.

Strength comes in so many forms,

all driven by the mind, the will.

Strength, the will, and the mind are illusions.
So am I truly cut open? And if so,

aren't I also always healed?

I am everything.

I am nothing.

I am the breath of stars
that are truly only pin pricks in
a bed sheet hung out to dry in the moonlight
on a far-far away world that does not exist

except in the pages of a child's book

left forgotten under the roots of the oldest tree--ever...

And ever will be.

(This is what my Milkman used as an argument when I asked him why he was replacing my empty milk bottles with...more empty milk bottles. I said, well done with the Zen logic, and then paid him with an illusionary one-hundred dollar bill and asked for $90.00 back in real money.)

This is what happens when...

This is what happens when you can't lift...or flip tires. You suddenly rent out space out on your face to endangered arctic wolves to feel good about yourself. Cleared for jogging by doc Baccay, and band work--still no ab work or twisting (no real Wing Tsun...doing my form now). Went back in the weight room...nothing over 70 pounds on certain machines...

Must be the wolves but I am seeing the light!

Miss everyone. See you soon!

Cap