The Life of C.L. Boss

“Ok… just a little pin prick… there’ll be no more AAAAAAAAAHHHH, but you may feel a little sick.” – Pink Floyd

I often stopped at a convenience store during my fifty minute commute to and from work. While standing in line, I often passed judgement on those that stood in front of me. Who will waste my time today? The guy who asks for a particular type of cigarette that seems to be hidden in the case behind the register? The woman who spends more than her fair share of time dictating what lottery scratch offs she wants? The young man who plops down his two or three large energy drinks at the cash register? The gentleman who heaves a case of beer and declares it to be Miller time? All of these folks stood in between me and work or home. Finally, I get to the clerk and get the opportunity to purchase my snack cakes. Nothing knocks the pointy edges off your day like a couple of Double Decker Little Debbies.

Hello, my name is C.L. and I’m addicted to food. After fifty-one years, I can finally muster up the courage to take that first step and say these words. In some respects, however, it may be too late. Yes, after years and years of abuse my pancreas has decided to rebel against my inner demons and tell the rest of me that it is tired and has had ENOUGH, thank you. The cruel truth comes into view when the ‘pointy edges’ shaved off by Little Debbies reappeared in the form of the lancets I need to use every morning to check my glucose.

The diagnosis of Type 2 Diabetes is not a new one for me. That phrase first appeared in my medical charts over ten years ago. Just how do you deal with something that both keeps you alive and could possibly kill you? Eat too much food? Get diabetes, heart disease, and die. Don’t eat enough? Shrivel up, waste away, and die. Staying in the middle makes life a balancing act, a constant stream of choices that can be good or bad. Choices that individually amount to very little on their own, but build and build and build until one day your find yourself tens, if not hundreds of pounds heavier, in terrible shape, and on the pointy end of a lecture from your doctor saying that the amount you spend at the pharmacy is about to go up… a lot.

Type 2 Diabetes is not a terminal diagnosis, it can be managed… as long as I determine that I want to manage it. The problem is, there have been a lot of times that I haven’t. Me Becoming Me is supposed to be about positive transformation, but there isn’t always a lot of positivity that can be gleaned from intentionally pricking your finger and making yourself bleed every single morning because of a lifetime of negative choices.

No, not a lot… but there are some.

In my brushes up against Buddhism, the concept of being present stuck with me. I can’t control the past, it’s done, it’s gone… it’s never coming back. Quite a few things in the future also remain out of my control. The only thing I can do is worry about the day ahead. When I prick my finger and give my sample, it will provide me an objective measure of yesterday’s choices. If a low number returns, I can rejoice in my good fortune and set an intention to replicate my actions for that day. If the number is high, I forgive myself for my bad choices, remind myself of what I am trying to do, and set an intention to better that day. Among those intentions are to be kinder to those who are suffering and need something to get through their day… including myself.

Perhaps if I keep on a program of self-improvement long enough, I will get to the point where I can get past this part of my day. For now, the little pin prick will have to stay and I will do my best to embrace the lesson that it’s trying to teach me.

Water (chemical formula H₂O) is an inorganic, transparent, tasteless, odorless, and nearly colorless chemical substance, which is the main constituent of Earth’s hydrosphere and the fluids of all known living organisms… It is vital for all known forms of life, even though it provides neither food, energy, nor organic micronutrients. –Wikipedia (as of August 3, 2022)

After stowing my meditation bench for the morning, the next few steps in my morning routine take place in the kitchen. The first item – making sure the water filter is full – usually takes just a second, but looms large in how the rest of the morning will unfold.

Mise en place is a French term that loosely translates to ‘everything in its place’. One of my favorite cookbooks, The Bread Bakers’s Apprentice: Mastering the Art of Extraordinary Bread by Peter Reinhart, first introduced me to this term commonly used in the kitchen to indicate the preparation of space, tools, and ingredients for what you are intending to cook or bake. Despite being given this book over a decade ago, the concept of mise en place took years to finally worm its way into my brain and even longer to be put into practice. As I get older (and perhaps wiser), I now know how much mise en place can make life go so much smoother. As the proverb says, when the pupil is ready, the teacher appears.

The municipal water service at the Boss household is not the best. The water itself is extremely hard and heavily treated with chemicals. The subdivision we live in is the only sizable development on the opposite side of the valley from the water tank. With only one often troublesome water main into this side of town, the water situation felt a little tenuous at times. While a water softener takes care of the hard water, we also have a small tank of filtered water on the kitchen counter that we use for daily use. It’s a simple affair, really – pour tap water in the top and wait for it to come out the bottom. Other than replacing the filter every little whip stitch, the only thing that it costs is the time it takes for gravity to pull the water through the filter.

A glance in the corner is generally all it takes to knock this item off of my to-do list for the morning. Ms. Boss is pretty diligent about making sure the tank gets filled before she goes to bed (a good woman, that Ms. Boss). On the rare occasions that it isn’t full, I start the process of filling it up before moving on to my next item. The benefits come later in the morning when we make coffee or tea, take our medicine, and try to fight our own personal battles against a penchant for dehydration – the fuller the tank, the faster the spigot, the more seconds we save in our busy days.

As the Wikipedia quote indicates, water is vital for life. While I know what I’m writing about is a first world problem, making sure we have some en place is crucial for making our day start smoothly and allowing us to be our best possible selves. It usually takes just a second, but it’s a second I happily spend to make sure I save a hundredfold later in the day.

P.S. Writing can sometimes be anything but a straight line. My original angle on this post started with a poster I’ve run across during my work life that looks like this. While the poster was the same as this ‘lost object’, the presentation was much, much different. Strange things can be found lurking on the internet.

“Waking up this morning, I smile. Twenty-four brand new hours are before me. I vow to live fully in each moment and to look at all beings with eyes of compassion.” ― Thich Nhat Hanh

It might not be obvious to the reader yet, but ‘Me Becoming Me’ is starting out as an examination of my routein and, more importantly, why I do it. As I made a mental map of what I was going to write in my head, I almost skipped what I do every day after meditation. That would have been sad, almost tragic, because in many ways, it is the most important part of my day.

Back during the pandemic when I was working from home, I spent quite a bit of my newfound free time reading self-help books. I kept seeing references to Thich Nhat Hanh, so employing a technique I used to research in college, I went to the source. I chose The Heart of the Buddha’s Teachings from his prolific list of writing and was completely blown away. While I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself a Buddhist, I would say that the book altered my life and way of thinking. One of the most impactful teachings concerned gathas – “short verses that we can recite during daily activities to help us return to the present moment and dwell in mindfulness” according to his web site. The quote at the beginning of this section is one of them that I found particularly meaningful.

Every day after I acknowledge the time that signals that meditation is over, I hold my hands just like shown in the picture, close my eyes, and say these words:

I am thankful for my wife. I am thankful for my children. I am thankful for my house. I am thankful for my job. I am thankful for my dog. I have twenty-four hours in this day. Let me make the most of them.

In a previous religious life, I would have considered this act ‘vain repetition’ or ‘too perfunctory to be meaningful’ and I’ll admit that on my ‘lesser days’ this might actually be true. If, however, I say them full sincerity and carry on with this sentiment at the forefront of my mind, they make a powerful statement about my present and aspiration for the immediate future.

While I could very easily end the post right here, the things that I am thankful for deserve respect and recognition for their importance in my life.

My wife: Of course, Ms. Boss is first on my list. She is not only my wife and the mother of my children, she is my best friend, lover, and dedicated partner. I could (and should) go on and on about her, but the following will suffice for this post: every achievement that I’ve had and every success this family has had in the last two decades is due in large part, if not wholly, to her hard work and dedication. I’m not the man that I am nor are we the family we are without her.

My children: Raising four daughters ain’t easy. You can sometimes lose sight of what it is you’re doing and why it is that you do it. Then come those golden moments of clarity – those moments when our children serve as the best possible reflection of Ms. Boss and I – those moments when they are women who are making positive contributions to the universe. These moments make it all worth it.

My house: Our house is not perfect. It shows both its sixty-five years of age and my lack of handyman skills. We’ve spent thousands of dollars just trying to maintain it which leaves little room for improving it. I’ve lain awake many a night and listened to the most expensive thing we own strain against the elements and wondered what calamity would befall us next. No, our house is far from perfect, but it has provided us shelter, generated so many great memories, and reflected who we are as a family. I will not finish my days here, but I will be grateful for the years that we’ve had within it.

My job: My job is stressful. While my normal work hours are during the day, it often requires my attention 24/7 through emails and phone calls and occasionally driving into the office during the wee hours. It can sometimes cause significant conflict with the demands of family which can truly be difficult. At the end of the day, however, I’m paid well to a job that I’m fairly good at and enjoy on a consistent basis. Most importantly of all, I work at a job that is meaningful and serves the greater good. Rare is the day that I question what I am doing or why I’m doing it.

My dog: I recently saw a meme that described the bond between a father and the pet he didn’t want as being unbreakable. That describes the relationship between my dog and I to a tee. As I often say to people who can’t believe I actually own a dog, he tries my patience over and over again and sometimes demands more than I’m willing to give, but he’s unflinchingly loyal and never questions our friendship. He deserves his spot in the list of things I express gratitude for every day.

Having reminded myself how fortunate I am in my life, I rise from my bench, ready to start my day and make it the best day that I can. Sometimes it’s hard to string twenty-four good hours together, but at least I have begun the day with a positive affirmation of my best intentions.

The best time to meditate, the best place, the best length of practice is the one that you actually do. Showing up for practice today, however long or short, is enough. – Kate Johnson, “Calming the Not Now Mind”

I’m horrible at meditation, just terrible.  Buddhism speaks of the ‘monkey mind’ that can’t settle down and pretty much does what it wants – a very apt description of what’s going on inside my head when I sit down to do it. Yet it is the first thing I do by choice after waking (nature’s call isn’t a choice) every single morning. 

Why?  Because it works.

I remember my first attempt at meditation several years ago. I got about ten pages into a book on meditation and started to give it a whirl for three minutes. It… was… excruciating. I just could not master keeping my mind fixed on the blank piece of paper that was suggested. My mind kept wandering off to wherever and I would get frustrated and give up before three minutes had elapsed. I became angry with myself because I felt like I failed.

The thing is I hadn’t.  I had actually succeeded.

We can’t all be Thich Quang Duc (you may not know the name, but you would certainly recognize a picture of what he’s known for if you’ve ever seen it) and achieve a deep level of serenity that persists even when we’re literally on fire.  We can, however, achieve the first aim of meditation and deal with the thoughts in our own mind when they appear.  When they do appear, thank your mind for bringing it to your attention and turn your attention back to your breath.  Doing this over and over again is why meditation is a practice.

I have anger issues. While I have a long fuse, a huge powder keg lies at the end of it. A 6’3”, 300 pound male with a booming voice and an explosive temper do not go well together. I can be down right scary when I lose control. The first time I saw the fire moving quickly down the fuse and stopped it before the barrel was one of the most impactful moments of my life. I arrived at that moment because of my meditation practice.

The simple stool in the picture is my place for meditation. Ms. Boss gave it to me as a ringing endorsement of my new found practice. I, unfortunately, abused it by using it in a manner that failed to give it the respect it deserved about a year ago and broke it.  To recommit myself to the practice as part of Me Becoming Me, I asked one of my employees who does woodworking as a hobby to repair it for me.  Since the day it returned, I have not missed a single day sitting on it in meditation.  As the quote at the beginning states, I can and do meditate anywhere, but the stool reminds me how important meditation is not only for me, but my family as well.

I may wake before the enemy, but I do so to become a more mindful and gentler man.