4.22.2004
Think about your meta-tarsals
Cary didn't tell me he had a blog. He's a hard man to keep up with anyway. What with obsessively living the good life.
By good life I mean both words. Good and life. He spends all his days either giving or receiving massage (which is a large part of his part-time gig as a massage instructor). The remainder of his time is spent, I believe, tango-dancing, eating soup and or grains, riding his bicycle from place to place (it is a one-speed in a hilly city where everyone else is riding mountain bikes on asphalt), practicing his own form of swimming (which is so esoteric I cannot begin to explain it to you), and probably tracking every second/tuppence/calorie/and breath in some kind of planner. Do not ask me how swimming can be esoteric, read his site and you will get an idea.*
Actually I have no idea how he spends his time these days, but I know every moment is filled with some activity.
Cary is one of the people that could have kept me in Austin. And not only because he gave me bargain-basement rates on massage (since I was his most religious guinea pig when he decided to go into it). He has degrees in math, philosophy and one more to complicated to explain. He went to work for a big company, then a small company. But corporate goonery was just not for him. Massage certainly is.
The man is a preacher for massage and a theologian of "the body". I of course am part cynic and part fallen disciple. Just reading him makes me want to ditch the computer and go back to hard-core simplicity. Before there was music, before there were blogs. When morning meant fresh miso, not instant, and nothing in the fridge went bad. When life was calculated in excel. Cult-like but totally weighed the meaning of things and created some perspective.
But I'm not obsessive, and it's hard without his inspiration.
Perhaps I will read Invisible Cities tonight...one of the chapters we used to read aloud. Meanwhile, I leave you with some notes from his blog. He isn't blogging much but he has posted a lot of other content.
By good life I mean both words. Good and life. He spends all his days either giving or receiving massage (which is a large part of his part-time gig as a massage instructor). The remainder of his time is spent, I believe, tango-dancing, eating soup and or grains, riding his bicycle from place to place (it is a one-speed in a hilly city where everyone else is riding mountain bikes on asphalt), practicing his own form of swimming (which is so esoteric I cannot begin to explain it to you), and probably tracking every second/tuppence/calorie/and breath in some kind of planner. Do not ask me how swimming can be esoteric, read his site and you will get an idea.*
Actually I have no idea how he spends his time these days, but I know every moment is filled with some activity.
Cary is one of the people that could have kept me in Austin. And not only because he gave me bargain-basement rates on massage (since I was his most religious guinea pig when he decided to go into it). He has degrees in math, philosophy and one more to complicated to explain. He went to work for a big company, then a small company. But corporate goonery was just not for him. Massage certainly is.
The man is a preacher for massage and a theologian of "the body". I of course am part cynic and part fallen disciple. Just reading him makes me want to ditch the computer and go back to hard-core simplicity. Before there was music, before there were blogs. When morning meant fresh miso, not instant, and nothing in the fridge went bad. When life was calculated in excel. Cult-like but totally weighed the meaning of things and created some perspective.
But I'm not obsessive, and it's hard without his inspiration.
Perhaps I will read Invisible Cities tonight...one of the chapters we used to read aloud. Meanwhile, I leave you with some notes from his blog. He isn't blogging much but he has posted a lot of other content.
A SHORT RECTUS ABDOMINIS*UPDATE: Oh, and being a rabid Houston Rockets fan of course.
consider the body's compensations from a strictly structural perspective. start with a short rectus abdominis. the sternum is pulled downward in the direction of the pelvis below. enough flexion is brought to the spine that the organism cannot see anything but the floor. hyperextension in the upper cervicals lifts the head, and a slight bend in the knee brings the pelvis underneath this unsteady structure. the anterior torso is shortened and quiet, and the trapezius is now stuck in a lengthed position, strained, and without proper bloodflow. rub my shoulders to temporarily mute my pain, but help me to open my anterior torso to reinforce my structure, once again, within the flow of gravity.
