You grab the edge of the Band-Aide, peeling up the very corner, ready to pull back, and you stop– there is a flash of hesitation and fear– you know that it’s going to hurt no matter how you remove it, that you can try to slowly peel it back and hope the pain is reduced, spread out over time and thus dulled; or instead, you can rip it off full-force, no hesitation, with a strong and severe rush of sensation that hits all at once, but fades almost as quickly. What do you do?

You approach the edge of the pool, enjoying your vacation, ready to cool off and relax. You stick the tip of your toe into the cool, clear water, and feel that it is far colder than the surrounding air. You were ready to jump in, until you felt that cold, and then, there was that falter– you know it’s going to be uncomfortable no matter how you get in, that you can slowly submerse your body inch by inch, trying to acclimate to the cold, gritting your teeth, chattering, and shivering; or instead, you can dive in, feel the pin pricks cover your entire body from head to foot, feel the pain of frozen flesh, all hitting at once, but fading almost as quickly. What do you do?

This is the un-fun decision. Life is full of un-fun decisions. Most people try hard to never face them. But they seem to follow us, whether we like it or not.

A change in careers– un-fun decision. The choice to start focusing on your health after decades of neglect– un-fun decision. Pulling up your roots and moving across the country– un-fun decision. Walking away from a family member, a loved one, a friend, because you know you are enabling, you know they are halting forward progression, you know rationally you are a better person than their presence permits– un-fun decision.

The majority of the time, we try to compromise. We say, “Okay, next time… one more time… one more chance… next week… next year… if it happens again….” And we let it continue, and perpetuate, and drag us down. The fear of the momentary sensation, the ripped Band-Aide and cold water pinpricks, stops our limbs from moving in the fashion our rational faculty dictates is proper.

But you can override this, with a strong enough command center. It has to be final, and principled. Approximations and half-ways do not resolve problems. The Band-Aide must be pulled quickly, and diving head-first is always better.

I’m a firm believer in burning bridges and not allowing the capacity to mend, if and when one has gathered sufficient evidence that the other side of the bridge is the right place to be. They say “the grass is always greener”, as if waffling back and forth between two options, like a confused puppy dog torn between wanting “in” and “out”, was any way to go about life. The puppy continues to repeat its cycle of spur-of-the-moment whimsical nowhere-going. Hopefully, the human being does not, and instead learns from his encounters and paths walked.

Like many things clichés, the “grass-is-greener” bromide is based on an illusion or half-truth. The grass is never greener, at least in a patch that has been burnt to a cinder. Then, it’s just blackened ash-earth. If the bridge is burned, one cannot be tempted to cross back over; one is forced not to repeat tracks and trails that have already been pursued and proven useless and impractical. Rather, one must move forward, linear, straight, towards a new region. Let the bridges behind you burn and fall to the ground, in search of truly ever-greener grasses. The trail of smoke and dust will be a reminder of a path chosen, pursued, and committed to. It will not erase all sensation of pain, but it will allow the transition to truly greener, and ever-improving, pastures.

Sometimes, ripping that Band-Aide off can be like walking through hell. In Greek mythology, Orpheus traveled through the underworld to pursue his lost wife, Eurydice. Hades agreed to give Orpheus and Eurydice a second chance, this one time, allowing them both to return to the land of the living on the condition that he lead her out without ever looking back. Orpheus began his journey, literally marching through hell in order to recover the love of his life, in order to reach that truly greener pasture. He could have sprinted; he could have thrown each and every ounce of energy within his person into his march. Instead, he questioned himself– the doubt crept in– and he began to grow afraid. He knew rationally that his only chance at making things work was to not look back and rely on Hades’ word. He knew he had all the evidence he was going to receive. But standing on principle and not looking back was an un-fun decision. It proved too much– he looked back– and saw his wife, Eurydice, standing there for a moment, before being pulled back, eternally, into the underworld. They did not make it to a greener pasture. On his march, Orpheus did not burn the bridge leading back into hell. And as such, his wife returned to the charred and ashen ground of her past– a pasture far less green.

There comes a point where you must commit, you must pull the trigger and decide on a route, a course of action, no matter how painful. The only question is how you will face that pain. Will you let it infuse your soul all at once, hit you like a ton of bricks, wash over your person– and then leave? Or, will you suffer it over, and over, and over, and over again, making the same mistakes, letting fear of the un-fun decision rule your life?

I am striding toward truly greener pastures, and leaving no bridges for a possible return. Let the trail of smoke remind me of where I’ve been.

-David A. Johnston

Wolverine, by contrast, does not have a pretty bone in his body. He is gruff, and nasty, and animalistic. He constantly tows the line between being a good guy and a villain. And yet when he took center stage on the big-screen during the X-Men movies over the last several years, audiences loved and admired him.

It isn’t Wolverine’s adamantium skeleton that makes him superbly unique. Rather, it was his ability to heal– to not be hurt– that allowed for the adamantium skeleton in the first place. Let’s back up…

Wolverine was born with a genetic mutation that allows him to heal at an accelerated rate. Almost any wound or disease is corrected for by his body. This allowed Wolverine to survive the military’s experimental process of fusing his skeleton with a near-indestructible metal called “adamantium”, thus making him virtually impervious to harm.

Wolverine’s real power resides not in his claws. It resides in the fact that he cannot be scarred too deeply; it resides in the fact that his wounds are not substantial wounds, not deep, but mere flesh wounds, to be felt and glossed over, felt and forgotten as soon as they are experienced. His wounds do not stop him, and they do not define him. They happen, and they pass.

All my life, I let things affect me too deeply. I placed too much importance and too much weight into little things– all things. I viewed everything as important, as a life-and-death issue.

But as I grew, I wanted to be Wolverine. I wanted to be able to walk away from a battle– from stress, problems, drama– without a scratch. I wanted to be impervious to harm. I watched those around me affected by the trivial, caught up in the mundane, freaking out about little things and missing the bigger picture.

Now a new look in my eyes, my spirits rise,
Forget the past, present tense works and lasts.
New life in place of old life, unscarred by trials.
A new level of confidence and power.
(Pantera, A New Level)

And I learned: yes, Wolverine still feels pain, but it only touches him so deep. It only goes down to a certain level, and then it stops… and sits… and nobody and nothing can force it to hurt more.

So I decided I would be Wolverine, but my own version, without the genetic mutation. I would be impervious to pain, and guilt, and fear. I would make the decision to not let things touch me so deeply. I would learn to let it roll off my back.

“God give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time. Enjoying one moment at a time. Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace.”

I decided to lace my own bones– my own spirit– with adamantium, to make it impervious to the small and trivial blows dealt by life. Certain things matter. Many things matter. And many things don’t. I decided to take the time to sort them out, to tell the difference and rank them.

The decision to be Wolverine, to be indestructible, is not something magically discovered. It is not something one is born with. It is a choice. It is choosing to fully accept and acknowledge the fact that only you are responsible for your own happiness; that the circumstantial and uncontrollable aspects of your life are ultimately irrelevant and contribute in no large part to your current place in life. Lining your soul with an adamantium skeleton and attacking life with adamantium claws is not hard-wired in one’s person. It is not gifted from an external source. It is selected, consciously, as a method and mode of approaching the world.

Whatever my future may hold, I am fully aware that only I can determine my state of happiness and joy.

That state is not something handed to me by others, or something that I will stumble upon while wandering aimlessly through this life. It is, rather, waking up with the choice to be happy, overjoyed, and blissful.

So fly away, Superman, and save the world. Your life is near-perfect, and that’s great– must be nice to be born with alien powers that make you super-human.

The rest of us, by contrast, will be left to undergo our own experiment, to see if we can withstand the transformation from beings of terminable resolve to beings of indestructible spirit.

To see if we can face our trials, and come out unscarred.

To be less than perfect, and still be perfect, just without the fairytale curl atop our brows and flowing cape and tights.

True strength is not an innate trait. It is the ability to make the most of everything around us. It is an orientation towards the world. It is the resolve to keep external factors from affecting us any deeper than we decide is acceptable.

It is a trait we choose, and must continue to choose, each and every day.

-David A. Johnston

The first time I saw this video, I sat in silence for a good five minutes afterwards, just letting the truth of it flood over me. In working with dozens of personal training clients on a daily basis, the sequence of fast-motion excuses sounded like a synopsis of one of my worst days, minus the counting of repetitions. I was half tempted to send out this video with no commentary whatsoever, as I believe the content speaks for itself. But I have a big mouth, so we know that’s not possible.

Life is a constant, non-stop series of choices, from the moment of birth until the moment of death, a series of competing alternatives that cannot coexist or cohabitate, that you must choose between. In every paired sequence, one is presented with a “simpler” option, and a more “difficult” option. The more difficult is more difficult precisely because it requires more investment– more focus, attention, movement, thought, risk, momentary pain, temporary discomfort, blood, sweat, tears, etc. (insert your own cliché). The easier alternative, by contrast, comes more naturally, with less investment. It pops into one’s field of vision as the preferable, as the path of least resistance; it beckons to the individual with promises of comfort, smoothness, and calm.

I spoke with one of my clients this morning after my competition last night, giving him details of my and Nikki’s achievement. His exact words were: “Dave, you get out of this life what you put into it. Let me repeat that [speaking as slowly as I have ever heard him say anything and emphasizing every… last… word], YOU GET OUT OF THIS LIFE WHAT YOU PUT INTO IT”.

There is always an excuse. There is always a reason to not sweat, to not get involved or invested, to not pursue a higher goal. There is always an alternative that would be more immediately enjoyable, precisely because it would require less risk and less discomfort. Listen specifically to the sequence in the video that says as follows: “I have a case of the Mondays… the Tuesdays… the Wednesdays”. Did you get that? EVERY DAY is a reason to not get sweaty, to not play. Yet some do. Do you?

There will always be upset stomachs, calluses, sprained ankles… children, work, family… diseases, colds, illnesses… holidays, anniversaries, birthday parties, celebrations… work events, life events… identity crises, personal issues, soul searching quests… job changes, promotions, demotions, terminations, lay offs… lateral shifts, transfers, upgrades, downgrades…

There will always be a million and one reasons to not play…

There will always be an excuse…

And some will still play. And some will not. And it’s really as simple as that.

Wanna’ play?

-David A. Johnston

Stop Sign Image borrowed from http://pamelavillars.wordpress.com