#and Will is always injured and has played minimal first class games

[partybarty]

Oscar Pistari says he is a cricket fan. He follows three pro cricketers; Peter Siddle, Marcus Stoinis, and Will Pucovski.

[takemedancingmaine]

Only the Brave

“I need a drink.”

“You and me both,” Harry laughed as he poured himself a giant glass of red wine before he grabbed a beer for Liam from the fridge that looked like some sort of extravagant futuristic fridge that you'd see in a movie set in 2130 or something.

Liam’s need for a drink was a result of the Bears news that was coming from the television attached to the wall in his new condo. It turned out that a very important running back would be absent for the playoff game this weekend. Things were not shaping up well for them.

Harry’s need for a drink was simply because he had been eying the giant bottle of red wine Liam had in a wine rack that he had more than likely bought for Harry and Ana. 

Things for Liam were going really well. He had finally gotten the condo he had been looking at for months and this was our first time seeing it. Well, one of us was missing, but that dark cloud didn't take away from the appeal of the living quarters at all.

Liam, true to himself, had chosen a sleek and sophisticated open floor plan to be his home. Everything was dark wood and stainless steel. The furniture was the same that he had at his old place, which included a ridiculously large sectional that he'd gotten for next to nothing on an online marketplace when he first moved to Chicago and two big leather chairs that his older brother had gotten rid of when he got married a year ago.

Cleo had taken up residence on one side of the sectional while Liam and Louis chose the other side. Ana and Harry–now with a glass of wine in his hand–we're sharing one of the chairs and I was in my spot on the floor. I somehow felt more comfortable down here, felt safer, and it wasn't uncommon for me to sit on the floor, so no one questioned it.

Liam was making some fancy chili and cornbread for us and the smell of it was swirling around the room making all of our stomachs rumble. The normalcy of it all was strangely calming to me.

Ever the minimalist, Liam had a single house plant–a giant fern–over in the corner by his balcony door, and there were only four pieces of art to personalize his home. They were large canvases of each major stadium in Chicago–Soldier Field, Wrigley Field, the old Chicago Fire field out in Bridgeview, and the United Center. Obviously, he would never have the White Sox stadium displayed; he'd rather be stuck all over with needles, but that was the sole exception.

It was somehow cozy, despite just how minimal it was. Whether it was a result of the chest of blankets he had beside his sofa or the way his apartment somehow smelled like a citrus candle mixed with fresh linen. His lighting wasn't harsh and the view of the city was to die for. We were currently in the midst of our first big snowstorm of the year. Outside looked like a whiteout, but the occasional individual flake could be noted floating past Liam’s window frames.

Once the sportscasters stopped talking about the Bears and moved onto NCAA basketball–no one would be talking about Michigan, we were playing like garbage this season–Liam muted the TV and turned to me where I sat on the floor adjacent to him, my chin resting on the coffee table as I took in my friends before me.

“Why couldn't Niall make it?���

I gave Liam a curious glance before my eyes shot to Cleo directly across from me and then Louis who was beside Liam on the couch. They both gave me small shakes of the head to indicate that they hadn't said a word about what happened, what I had told them yesterday.

My love for my friends and their loyalty swelled in my chest.

I had noted how tired Louis appeared when I'd walked into work this morning as if he hadn't slept all night. But it was more than that, he looked like he wasn't really there, as if he was stuck in his head. I could only assume he'd spent some time with Niall yesterday. I wondered how him splitting himself was working thus far and I felt a stab in my side that his current state was my fault.

“Because I broke up with him,” I started, “and because he already knows what I'm about to tell you anyway.” I kept my gaze on Cleo, knowing that she already knew that first part and wouldn't react as harshly as everyone else (sans Louis) around the room. My voice was stronger than I'd thought it would be.

I had made the decision to tell them after waking up on Cleo’s couch this morning. The two of us had fallen asleep and on my rush home to make sure Moggy still had food and water and to change for work, I realized I could lose my friends if I didn't tell them. Louis would never forgive me for not telling him and for breaking up with Niall, and I couldn't tell only Louis. So that settled it, they'd all find out. And once my decision was made, I asked if we could get together tonight.

“What?”

“Why?”

“Are you okay?”

“Knows what?”

I bit my bottom lip and nodded, keeping my gaze on Cleo. She held my eyes firmly and I felt her strength coursing through me. I don't know how she knew I needed her strength in this way, but I knew I would be grateful to her for it.

“Before I say anything else I need you all to promise me that you'll let me get this out, that you won't interrupt, that you'll just listen.”

“Of course,” Louis said. I glanced at him before looking at everyone else. They all nodded, Cleo was giving me a small nod when I brought my gaze back to her. 

I took a deep breath, and then I told them. I told them what had happened to me last September. About how I had been injured and hid it from them. About how I was searching for control over my life again. About how I was going to self-defense classes with Brian and how I was having nightmares and about how I was afraid they would all look at me differently. And then I told them about Niall.

I told them about how he made me feel strong and safe and how he somehow just understood what I needed. I told them about how he supported me and how he was sacrificing his own feelings in order to help me. 

I also told them all of the other things, that when I wasn't stuck and scared inside my own mind, he and I were effortless and seemed to understand each other on such a fundamental level. That he always seemed to make me laugh and I could always get him to talk about literature like each writing was the eighth wonder of the world. How I lived for that glow in his eyes when he spoke about Ireland and music.

I told them why I had broken up with him and that I understood if they thought that the logic was flawed, Brian had, but what I had done made sense to me. 

Everything seemed so much easier to say than I thought it would have. It wasn't easy, just easier than I'd anticipated. It was the stepping off of the cliff and actually starting the process that was difficult, terrifying. The words came spilling out of me like I was a faucet that someone had turned on as if this was what was supposed to happen.

The whole time I spoke I kept my eyes on Cleo. She was steady throughout my retelling of events, steady when I talked through what had happened between me and Niall, steady even when she heard the gasps from Ana and steady when I had finished and took a deep breath before looking down at my hands in my lap.

“What time on Thursdays?” Was the first thing anyone asked after the silence had settled around us. It was Cleo.

“Six-thirty.” I kept my gaze down.

“Right,” Louis responded.

I looked up then, glancing around at my friends. Ana and Harry were both showing their feelings pretty clear on their faces. Harry has tears in his eyes as he and Ana wrapped themselves around each other. Ana didn't look much better off. Liam looked confused but he also had something else simmering under the surface. It took me a minute to realize that it was anger that was beneath the confusion, anger, and frustration.

Louis looked devastated. If he had looked exhausted this morning, he looked worse now. He looked like he would collapse into himself with the weight of what he was carrying. And Cleo was still locked into me, a rock for me to cling to and keep myself strong. 

“So what comes next?” Harry asked. “Now that you've opened up, what comes next?”

“I don't actually know,” I admit. “Brian told me yesterday that his sister might have some resources for me. But honestly,” I looked at all of my friends, “I have no idea what I'm doing. I just… I know that I don't want to do it alone anymore. I didn't really even know that part until just now, either.”

“Of course you won't be alone anymore, Ruby,” Ana said before standing up and coming over to me, sitting beside me, and wrapping her arms around me in a tight embrace. I held her for a moment.

“I'm sorry I kept it from you all for so long. I understand if you're angry,” I said as Ana pulled back from me, but remained beside me.

“Angry?” Louis asked. “Why would we be angry with you?”

I shrugged, unsure of how to word just what I was feeling.

“I'm angry it happened, Ruby, but not angry at you,” Liam said. He looked at me with a vast array of emotions passing through his eyes and across his face that I couldn't quite pinpoint how he was feeling anymore. “You know I've only ever had my older brother growing up and that you're like a sister to me. I'm angry I couldn't protect you. That you're scared and I feel like somehow it's my fault for not being there.”

That's what was on his face. I figured it out.

Guilt.

“No no no, Liam,” I began. “None of what happened is anyone's fault. Not anyone. It was just something that happened. Something that is unlikely to happen again.”

“I feel like such a bad friend for not noticing something was wrong,” Louis whispered to himself. He sounded wrecked; like he was a scratched disk trying its best to play the song despite the hindrances.

“None of us did.” Ana’s voice came from beside me and was just as soft as Louis’. I turned to see her welling up again.

“Because I didn't want you to,” I said. “Because I did everything I could to cover it up. Not because you're bad friends,” I insisted. “I can't express to you how much you've helped me through everything even without knowing anything was wrong. I may be at a tipping point right now where my only option is to tell you or lose you,” my eyes shifted to Louis, “but you've helped me grow to the point that I can tell you. I love you all so much. I cannot possibly tell you how much.”

Louis looked up at me with his blue eyes soft and caring and just shrugged. “You're the strongest person I've ever met, Ruby.”

“You make me strong,” I replied back with a small shrug of my own. It was quiet for a long time, a very long time before I chose to speak up again and break it. “Liam, I'm dying to try this chili of yours and it's all I can smell. Can we please eat now?”

And like that, the spell had broken. We all picked our faces up and began to make normal. To be fair we weren't normalizing my assault, we were normalizing ourselves to the new situation. I could see on my friend’s faces the distinction. I could also feel that something was missing and that I wasn’t the only one who noticed. I wedged myself beside Cleo and Louis and wrapped an arm around Louis. 

“I never want to make you feel like you have to choose one of us,” I whispered to him.

He put one of his own arms around me and I leaned into him. “I don’t feel like I do,” he said back. “I just wish there was a way I could be there for both of you. Ruby, I’m so impressed with your character. After what happened? I mean, I knew you were strong. I didn’t realize you were this strong.”

“I don’t feel strong.”

“You will,” Cleo responded. Louis nodded.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Telling my story, talking about my break up with Niall, none of that made me well up. My friends saying this though, having faith in me and being there for me like this–I looked at Liam and Harry and Ana–that made me want to sob because of them.

I didn't though. I held back as Liam turned the TV volume back up, but changed the channel to some car show where the presenters were driving across Africa. It was one of Louis’ favorite shows.

“One of my students asked me today if I had a crush on Ms Thompson,” Harry said now as he nudged his fiancé who was scooping chili into bowls for us all.

“That's precious,” Liam joked, coming back over to us all in the kitchen. Louis and I released each other and took our bowls that Ana was handing us.

“What did you say?” Ana asked.

Louis looked to Liam, who grabbed the shredded cheese from the fridge and handed it over to us. When Liam cooked, it was best to take your cues on how to eat from him. He would never say anything, but if you added hot sauce to the point of only tasting hot sauce or put salt on his homemade pasta sauce, or even glanced at the ketchup in the fridge when he'd made literally anything, he'd get a little offended. It was adorable.

“I said that we’re engaged. That we are getting married.” Harry shrugged.

“You didn't say that.” Ana gave him a look. How she knew he was lying, I don't know. I wondered if it was a teacher's intuition or the fact that she was going to marry him that led her to this conclusion.

“You're right. I said I do have a crush, and that you're very pretty.” Harry leaned over and kissed her head. Ana scrunched up her face but smiled at him.

The floor was cold on my feet as I padded into the kitchen, Moggy hot on my heels, and turned the kettle on. I could feel the chill through my wool socks, which served as a reminder of the blanket of white that was the outside world right now. Last night’s storm had kept on through the night and still went strong until around noon. 

It looked so peaceful when I peered out my window just a few minutes ago.

Moggy bumped against my legs, zig-zagging back and forth between them while I brewed my tea and made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I was wearing a big, knitted cardigan, fully prepared to be as lazy as possible after the past few days. Louis had walked into work this morning, but called and told me I could work from home because it was still coming down when we’d opened.

I had been feeling well enough to go into work, but I gratefully took the day of laying on my couch in comfy clothes and watching animated movies while I organized spreadsheets and analyzed market trends.

My phone ringing scared me just moments before the kettle clicked off. I reached over my counter and saw that it was Mehar calling; I answered and immediately set the phone to speaker mode so that I could start steeping my tea.

“Hey!” My sister’s chirpy voice floated around my kitchen. “I just thought I’d call and catch you up,” she said.

“Catch me up on what?” I asked, inhaling the scent of chamomile as it swirled around me.

“My life in general,” she said. I could practically see her smiling face as she lounged on her couch, assuming that was what she was doing right now. 

“Well I’m ready,” I said. “Catch me up.”

“Oh boy,” Mehar sighed. “Here we go.”

My sister then delved into a tale of her classes, her friendships, and her possibly having a boyfriend. As was typical for my sister, she embellished each story. She was telling me about how she was thinking of not actually getting her real estate license and instead just going straight into grad school for psychology. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to go into research or if she wanted to become a psychologist, but she was leaning toward research and continuing on with her schooling.

“Wait,” I interrupted her when she was telling me this. I took a sip of my tea and headed back into my living room. I sat back on my couch and pulled a blanket over me. Moggy followed me and hopped up to sit beside me. She gave me a meow before she shifted and sat at the other end of the couch. I put my phone down on the arm of the sofa and closed my eyes as I waited for my sister to respond.

“What?” 

“Have you told mom and dad this?”

“Not yet,” she said. “I’m kind of horrified to tell them. I know they’ll be so mad. Especially because I don’t think I want to stay in St. Louis anymore.”

“Where would you go?” I was more interested in hearing about what she wanted than what our parents would think. It was something I realized as I asked her this. I wanted her to be happy even if that meant that our parents were upset. It wasn’t selfish; I wasn’t thinking that if she made our parents upset they might like me more. I was simply thinking of my sister’s well-being.

“I could always come up by you,” she suggested. “Or Andy is from Denver. He won’t stop telling me about how great Colorado is. I could look into schools there, too.” 

“That would be so amazing,” I told her. “I’m excited for you. I think you’d do really well here. You always love visiting me. But I think Colorado would be nice too. Ana’s family is from out west. They’re from Utah near one of the national parks, I can’t remember which, but I feel like the outdoorsy vibe is similar. You’d have to become an outdoorsy person.”

I listened to my sister’s laughter. It seemed light. I’m sure she was nervous to tell me this news. Bigger than her possibly having a boyfriend–they weren’t labeling it, but they also weren’t open to being with other people–and bigger than her friendship woes, she must have been nervous to tell me that she was planning on changing her plans, planning on making a pretty big move, planning on making a pretty large career change. 

It made me happy that she was laughing after talking to me. Happy that she wasn’t feeling heavy. 

“I actually have started spending more time outdoors,” she said. 

I gasped. 

“Oh come on,” she bemoaned. “I spend time outside. It’s not that outlandish.”

“Mehar, your idea of spending time outside used to be a screened-in patio or a hotel balcony overlooking the beach. It’s not hiking and skiing or playing an outdoor sport.”

“I can change,” she defended herself. “Andy and I are making plans for things to do this spring. He’ll be in season, but we can still do day trips and activities. We were thinking of a kayaking one and a hiking one. There’s always more that could come up though.”

“Mehar I need you to tell me that you’re actually a clone replacement of my actual sister.”

“I’m going to come up there and cause you physical harm, Ruby.”

“Got it. You’re still you.”

“Hey,” I heard her say, but her voice was far away as if she had lowered the phone from her face. It was closeby and loud all of a sudden when she spoke again. “Andy just got here. We’re about to make dinner. I’ll talk to you soon though, okay? Maybe get some advice from you on how to disappoint mom and dad.” 

I chose to ignore that last part of her comment. “I’m sorry, you’re cooking now too? Are you sure you’re not a clone or a robot or something?”

“Goodbye, Ruby. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mehar.” With that, the line clicked.

“Again.”

I tightened my core and kicked out again, kicked the pad that Brian was holding. He didn't flinch, but I knew the impact wasn't minimal.

“Good.�� He nodded. “Again.”

I did. And then he told me to do it all, everything I'd just done, over again with my left leg. So we did.

“Alright, let's go over those moves I showed you last time before I have to start setting up for class,” Brian encouraged.

“Okay.” I nodded.

Brian dropped the padding and stood there, waiting for me to make a move. It always felt wrong, going after him when his guard was down, but by now I knew I didn't need to worry about Brian. He was quick and agile, and he'd been trained in a few different forms of fighting since he began this training journey. He typically trained in a self-defense fighting style called krav maga. 

He typically taught me traditional boxing combinations when working on the punching bags, but when we did this when he had me go back and forth with him, we worked on the krav maga techniques of neutralizing our opponent, but we also had the added challenge of our opponent knowing the technique as well. It was a workout of skill and of outwitting your opponent in order to gain the upper hand. It was like chess but with fighting and bruises.

We moved together, the two of us going back and forth, attempting to accomplish the same goal against each other.

“You’re hesitating,” Brian said as he blocked my punch and twisted my arm, forcing me to yield. He let go and after I shook the arm out, we started again. “It’s all about timing. You need to build up a rhythm and then alter it so as not to become predictable.”

Sparring like this kept my mind active in a way that fighting against a punching bag didn’t. It was an academic and physical process that I could immerse myself in deeply in such a way as to really shut myself off from the rest of the world. Brian and I went on for a few more minutes before the doors to the studio opened and a voice called out, pulling us from our back-and-forth.

“Are we late?”

I immediately dropped my guard and was thankful Brian’s reflexes were quick enough to pull back the swing he’d just made toward my midsection as I turned and faced our interrupters. He wiped his brow and took a deep breath.

“Class doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes,” Brian called back. “You’re not late.”

“Wait, Ruby?”

I stood frozen in my spot. 

It wasn’t until his arms were around me that I felt the ice in my veins melt. Then my whole body reacted and I smiled, hugging him back tightly. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked. 

“Supporting you,” Louis said, his tone implying how obvious that should have been to me. “The others are here, too. They all had to change into their workout clothes.” 

“You’re all here?” I asked. 

“Of course we are.”

“I don’t-”

“Ruby!” Ana and Cleo strolled into the studio and came over to us. From the corner of my eye, I saw Brian setting up equipment for class, but I knew he was listening in as Liam and Harry bounded into the room with all of their energy. Only a couple of weeks ago I’d had Niall with me. Now, I had a whole troupe. 

“This is so cool,” Ana said as she looked around.

“You must be Brian,” Liam noticed Brian and called him into the conversation. “Thank you for taking care of our Ruby.” 

“Oh, not a problem,” Brian came over to us. “She’s great. I’m just glad I’ve been able to help, glad that she’s started opening up and accepting other people’s help.” 

“What were the two of you just doing?” Louis asked. 

“It’s a self-defense style called krav maga,” Brian started. “It combines a couple of different types of fighting styles like wrestling and boxing with martial arts. My mom met my dad when she was in the Israeli Defense Forces. She was working alongside the U.S. military on a project and was stationed in the Philippines, where he’s from. But the IDF uses krav maga to train and when I started looking into ways to train and become certified to teach, she told me to start there because it takes influences from so many different styles.”

“Can we see some more?” Harry asked.

Brian looked over at me and raised his eyebrows. 

I wiped some sweat off my forehead before nodding.

“Let’s go then.” 

An hour later, everyone was sweaty, panting, and smiling. This week had been cardio-focused and Brian didn’t hold back. We did circuit training and shadowboxing and so, so many burpees. We didn’t come out unscathed: Cleo and Louis let it be known repeatedly just how much they hated physical activity, but they hung in there with the best of ‘em. Ana was bright red, but not a peep came out of her in complaint as we did squat jumps and push-ups. 

“You do that every Thursday?” Ana panted after it was all said and done.

“Some days are tougher than others,” I told her as we all packed up to leave. “Sometimes, Brian does this to remind us that physical fitness and confidence is a large part of what drives us and keeps us safe.”

“Brian seems really great,” Liam noted.

“He is,” I said loud enough for him to hear. He blushed and nodded at us all as we walked out of the studio.

I felt really light. My friends were always going to support me, and none of them looked at me differently.

Between my friends and what Mehar had shared yesterday, I was inspired by the people closest to me. I still ached with a longing to turn to the Irishman that had worked his way into my heart, but I knew this was what was best for him.

So despite the progress, I had made, the steps I had taken this week, I stayed away.

[ruminativerabbi]

Awakenings

For some reason, I’ve always been drawn to Rip Van Winkle-style stories about people who fall asleep for one or many years and then wake up to find themselves in whole new worlds. First of all, there’s Rip himself—a fictional character who first made his appearance in Washington Irving’s collection of stories and essays, The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent., which came out exactly 200 years ago in 1819. The book has long since been forgotten by most, as unfortunately also has been its author: one of the true giants of American literature in his day, Irving has for some reason not joined the authors he himself encouraged in their careers—writers like Herman Melville, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Edgar Allan Poe, or Henry Wadsworth Longfellow—in the pantheon of American authors still read other than by people to whom their books have been assigned in American Literature classes. And he really was one of the greats! I believe that I’ve read all his stories, certainly most of them, and “Rip Van Winkle” is one of my favorites. His other still-famous story, “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” turned into a whole series of Hollywood movies—most memorably Tim Burton’s 1999 film, Sleepy Hollow—and television shows, is also a terrific piece of writing that deserves to be more widely read in its original format. But I digress: I wanted to write here about Rip van Winkle himself and not the author who dreamed him up.

The story is well known and easily retold. One day while wandering deep in the woods near Sleepy Hollow to escape his wife’s endless nagging, Rip runs into the ghosts of the sailors who in their day manned Henry Hudson’s ship, the Half Moon, and promptly joins them in a game of nine pins and in drinking a lot of liquor, whereupon he falls into a deep sleep. Then, when he awakens twenty years later, he discovers that his son is now a grown man, his wife has died, and that he missed the entire American Revolution while he slumbered away. He makes his peace with being a widower easily enough (the Van Winkles don’t seem to have had too happy a marriage), finds it more challenging to abandon his native allegiance to King George, and finally ends up settling in with his grown daughter as he tries to figure out the new world and his place in it.

There are lots of parallel stories to Irving’s tale. Third-century (C.E.) Greek philosopher Diogenes Laëterius, for example, wrote about a man named Epimenides who fell asleep for fifty-seven years and then had to negotiate an entirely new world when he awakened.  Jewish literature has its own version of both Rip van Winkle and Epimenides in Honi the Circle-Drawer, a wonder-working rabbi of the first century (or thereabouts) who fell asleep for seventy years and awakened to find a man tending to carob trees that Honi himself had witnessed the man’s grandfather planting just (it must have felt like) a day earlier. Other cultures have their own versions, but what makes them appealing—and also slightly terrifying— is the fantasy that this could possibly happen to us readers, that we too could possibly get into bed tonight, turn off the light, drift off into sleep…and then awaken not tomorrow morning but a century from now. Nor is it hard to explain why this is such an arresting theme to so many. We all like to think that the world is so sturdy, so substantial, so there, after all…and then an idea like this takes root and suggests that it’s all a chimera, all a fantasy, all an elaborate illusion played out against an equally illusory dreamscape, that what feels so real is only an elaborate set that the stage crew will take down the moment we breathe our last. And why shouldn’t the theater of life mimic the way things work in real theaters? The show closes, the crew strikes the set, the actors return their costumes, and everybody goes home. And, on Broadway, that is that!  

And now it turns out that it really is so that people fall asleep and awaken decades later. Some readers may have noticed a story in the paper a while back about one Munira Abdulla, a woman from a small town in the United Arab Emirates, who was in a terrible automobile accident in 1991 when she was only thirty-two years old. She fell into a coma, but was kept alive by her family in the hope that she might one day awaken. And she did just that, awakening, apparently on her own, after twenty-seven years. Technically speaking, Ms. Abdulla was in the state technically called “minimal consciousness,” which is less bad than being in a full coma (i.e., in which the patient shows no sign of being awake) or in what’s called a persistent vegetative state (in which the patient appears to be awake but shows no signs of awareness). It is, however, still extraordinarily rare for patients possessed of minimal consciousness simply to awaken.

It’s happened closer to home as well. Terry Wallis, for example, was nineteen when his pickup skidded off a bridge near his hometown in Arkansas, which accident left him in a persistent vegetative state. Doctors told his family that he had no chance of recovery. But then he somehow managed to move up a notch into the same state of minimal consciousness that Munira Abdulla was in. And there he remained for nineteen years, domiciled at a nursing home near his parents’ home. And then one day in 2006 his mother walked into his room, whereupon he looked up and said “Mom” out loud, the first word he had uttered in almost two decades.

Donald Herbert’s is a similar story. A Buffalo fire-fighter, Herbert was injured on the job in 1995 when debris in a burning building fell on him and left him in what doctors called a state of “faint consciousness” for a full decade. And then, in 2005, after a full decade of silence, he opened his eyes one day and asked for his wife.  

These are rare stories, obviously. Most comatose people—including people possessed of faint or minimal consciousness—do not suddenly wake up and start talking. Indeed, in every real sense, these people I’ve been writing about are the rare exceptions to an otherwise sad rule. But the fact that such people exist at all is very meaningful: even if the overwhelming majority of comatose patients do not spontaneously wake up, some apparently do. And in that thought inheres the huge problem for society of how to relate to the somewhere between 100,000 and 200,000 Americans who exist in states of partial, faint, or minimal consciousness. Most will never recover. But some few may.

Many readers will remember Penny Marshall’s terrific 1990 movie, Awakenings, starring Robert De Niro and Robin Williams, and based on Oliver Sacks’ 1973 book of the same title. (Less well known is that Harold Pinter wrote a short play, A Kind of Alaska, based on Sacks’ book as well, which is often performed as part of a trilogy of the playwright’s one-act plays.) The story of the book and the movie (and presumably the play as well, which I’d like to see one day) is simple enough: a doctor working in 1969 at a public hospital in the Bronx is charged with caring for a ward of catatonic patients who survived the world-wide epidemic of encephalitis (specifically the version called encephalitis lethargica) in the 1920’s. The doctor, very movingly and effectively portrayed by the late Robin Williams, somehow has the idea to try using L-Dopa, a drug used to treat Parkinson’s Disease, on these patients and gets astounding results; the movie is basically about one of those patients, portrayed by Robert De Niro, whose “awakening” is depicted in detail. It doesn’t work in the long run, though; each “awakened” patient, including the one played by De Niro, eventually returns to catatonia no matter how high a dose of L-Dopa any is given. The movie thus ends both hopefully and tragically: the former because these people on whom the world had long-since given up were given a final act in the course of which they sampled, Rip Van Winkle-style, the world a half-century after they fell asleep; and the latter because, in the end, the experiment failed and no one was cured in anything like a long-term or fully meaningful way.

Why do these stories exert such a strong effect on me? It’s not that easy for me to say, but if I had to hazard a guess, I think I’d say that the concept of dying to the world briefly and then coming back to life to see what happened while you were gone is what draws me in. (Fans of Mark Twain will recall Tom Sawyer’s wish to be “dead temporarily.” But even Tom and Huck only manage to be gone from the world long enough to attend their own funeral and enjoy the eulogies they hear praising them, not to vanish for decades and then come back to life.) I’m sure there would be surprises if I were to go to bed tonight and wake up in 2089. Some would be amusing—seeing what model iPhone they’ve gotten up to or what version of Windows, or if anyone even remembers either—and some would be amazing: if the President of the United States in 2089 is sixty years old, then he or she won’t have been born yet.  But mostly it would be chastening, and in the extreme, to see how all the various things that seem so immutable, so permanent, so rooted in reality in our world, have all vanished from the world, as will probably also have all of the houses in which we live today, the banks in which we store our cash, and even the shore lines that mark the boundary between the wine-dark sea and the dry land upon which we live in safety or think we do. Depending on a wide variety of factors, that thought is either depressing or exhilarating. But in either event, it makes it easier not to sweat the small stuff or allow our own anxieties to impact negatively on the pleasures life can offer to the living.

I will bring all these thoughts with me as I prepare for Israel in a few weeks’ time because the Rip Van Winkle and Terry Wallis stories are Jerusalem’s own as well. The vibrant center of Jewish life for more than a millennium when the Temple was destroyed in the first century, the city was suddenly emptied of its Jews by its Roman overlords who renamed it and forbade Jews from living there. And yet…some small remnant always remained in place while the city slept. And then, just when the Jewish Jerusalem’s faint consciousness seemed poised to flicker and die out entirely…just the opposite happened as Jews from all over the world built a new city on the outskirts of the old one and breathed consciousness and life itself into its ancient alleys and byways. As the patient came back to life, she didn’t only re-enter history either—she began to be a player in her own story, stepping off the stage to become her own play’s playwright and director. It felt like a miracle then and it feels like one to me today too.

When I’m in Jerusalem, I myself feel my consciousness expanding and becoming in equal parts rejuvenated, reconstituted, and revivified. I never run out of things to do, to write, to read, to experience. I can’t imagine being bored in Jerusalem, even on a hot day in mid-summer when I could just as easily be on the beach in Tel Aviv. I love the beach! But there is something about the air in Jerusalem, and the light, that is the spiritual version of L-Dopa that Robin Williams gives his patients in Penny Marshall’s movie. Except that it doesn’t wear off with time and, if anything, only gets stronger and more powerful as the weeks I spend in Jerusalem pass one by one until the time comes to come home and begin a new year in this place we have all settled.

[ornathe]

Okay, so. Below is an assortment of Alternian law thoughts, which also involves some ranting and speculating in teals and teal expectations, Alternian history and culture, and no small amount of headcanons and wild extrapolating for my own amusement and enjoyment. I have a physical notebook with an absurd amount of notes on all of this, so bear with me as I attempt to voice some of the things that keep my brain going at 120 miles an hour during travel. 

Starting off - teals, legislacerators, and what exactly crime is! 

LIES AND SLANDER. EVERYTHING BELOW WAS WRITTEN AROUND 3-4AM IN ASSORTED SLEEPY DELIRIUM AND AS SUCH, JUST. Be warned that I get extremely wordy when very tired but also excessively chatty about something. Rambles may be somewhat incoherent in jumping from topic to topic, but I stand by every word. Probably. Always open for questions to muse on, though. 

So, we have some teal trolls we know a fair amount about, some we know a little about, and some we have practically nothing on, which means we’ve got several degrees here ranging from “this is based on all the actual canon stuff we know about this character” to “this is purely extrapolating based on, like, a singular bullet-point and the etymology of one of their names”. 

I’m going to start easy; with Terezi and Redglare, we actually know more about legislacerators than most other jobs in all of troll culture! Redglare, as described in Mindfang’s journal, is a legislacerator, and from the descriptions of her job hunting down Mindfang, we can see that legislacerators appear to function as kind of an all-purpose perp hunter job - they essentially work as cops assigned to specific cases and criminals, and are then put to not only investigating them and hunting them down themselves, but they’re also responsible for prosecuting that criminal and seeing them to whatever bitter end they meet in the end. Pretty much the only parts of the process the legislacerators aren’t part of are the lawmaking, the assignment of criminals to the legislacerators, and the judgment and execution, which largely seems to wrap up in one pile of merciless highblood justice. But I digress. 

I’ll come back to Terezi and Redglare in a moment, but to continue this discussion properly, we have to consider a few important things; more specifically, what counts as crime in the Alternian society, and how does their law system actually work? 

For starters, it seems obvious to start with the hemospectrum. Highbloods are afforded more leniency and privileges than midbloods, who again have a better standing than lowbloods, and across the whole spectrum, anyone higher than rust red and lower than royal fuchsia has to consider themselves part of the chain, where they’re higher than some trolls, but lower than some, and that affects how the laws and rules apply to what they do and to whom. For instance, terrorizing and even killing rustbloods doesn’t appear to have any consequences beyond that troll’s particular ire - there’s no justice for them in the system, being considered lesser beings of minimal worth, and even less so if they’re mutants or otherwise likely to be deemed a waste of perfectly good space, and the only thing that can work for them is sheer numbers in order to overwhelm with riots and revolutions. (Which the Condesce sat through just long enough to say “actually, fuck this, every adult troll capable of causing trouble will be exiled from the planet to work elsewhere”, because it turns out revolution DOES have an impact, and as we know, that’s brewing once again during the time of Hiveswap.) 

On the contrary, highbloods are afforded the utmost leisure, really only answering to each other and then only the ones higher than themselves, and if they decide to take out some lowbloods for whatever reason, or they take matters into their own hands if a low- or midblood disrespects them, this is largely seen as not just fine, but entirely reasonable. After all, why bother taking a lowblood to trial when absolutely everyone knows the highblood will win by default? But this brings up another matter - killing versus culling. Because highbloods can do what they want to lowbloods, but what about the other way, or disputes involving similar- or same-caste trolls? If everything was decided by way of “whoever has the highest blood wins”, there wouldn’t be any need for a trial system in the first place, so it stands to reason that there must be trials that don’t necessarily lead to the lowest blood being spilled for impudence. 

Tagora, in his first appearance, introduces something we haven’t seen in Homestuck proper yet - the concept of personal legislacerators representing plaintiffs, which would mean legislacerators do not only prosecute cases, but may well also handle defense of injured parties. This rounds them out as covering even more legal ground, because it implies legislacerators play just about all the active roles in a trial, though it’s entirely possible that not all trials involve defense - just because it’s possible to have a personal legislacerator doesn’t necessarily imply all trolls are entitled to one; just the ones who can pay or otherwise charm their way into getting (presumably) a tealblood to represent them in court to put pressure on whomever they’re filing against. This also implies the law system includes civil cases with trolls agaiinst trolls, rather than just criminal cases (with trolls against the system, that is, breaking specific laws). 

Tagora also shows himself as especially interested in this type of legislacerative work - contract law, civil lawsuits, traffic law, and other personal matters that litigants would find themselves requiring legal assistance with (especially if the troll they’re suing happens to be of a blood caste high enough where just throwing them to the drones wouldn’t fly). This contrasts directly with Terezi, who shows clear interest in the type of legislacerator we saw Redglare as - an investigative trollcop detective, who persecutes criminals obsessively like a predator circling their prey, taking justice into their own hands if the need arises or if getting them to a trial just wouldn’t be possible. Where Tagora is essentially a civil defense lawyer, taking on clients who seek justice for wrongs done to them personally, Terezi aims to be a prosecutor of criminal law and a detective ready to solve and present cases for the judgement of His Honorable Tyranny. 

That said, it’s also important to consider two major changes in Alternian culture that would’ve affected the law system. The first one is the previously mentioned enforced exile - with all the adult trolls scattered to the winds, this includes His Honorable Tyranny and all adult practising legislacerators, as well as most criminals who have done enough crimes against Alternian society to be worth pursuing (even Mindfang, infamous gamblignant and slaver, among other things, managed to sustain a criminal lifestyle openly for an incredibly long time, only needing one specific person to not give her up to the authorities), which means troll courts were probably changed significantly, particularly since it separates the whole court system from on-planet to off-planet, which again means that even if the planet still followed the pre-existing law system, it wouldn’t be enforced in the same way on-planet unless the troll children decided to do it just like it was before the exiling. Most likely, the adult exiled trolls followed the same system until the Vast Glub that killed them off, separate from the younger Alternian trolls, while the children changed and adapted the laws and rules and norms to their own needs and desires - I personally believe this led to a change, including a turn towards more civil cases and more vigilante justice against actual criminals.  

Teals being the lowest of the highblood classes if divided down the middle, and only just above the middle of the midbloods, this makes them as close to impartial as it gets hemospectrum-wise; higher than the many and oppressed lowbloods, but lower than the entitled highbloods, letting them see both ends more objectively than any other caste would be as able to. Presumably, this is a large reason why they, according to Mindfang’s journal, tend to make for good civil servants - they have a uniquely objective vantage point that only jades could be comparable to, and jades already have their own important duties serving the community from the brooding caverns. 

The second change in the law system comes after the time of Hiveswap, and just before we first meet the trolls in Homestuck proper. Simply put, the change comes when the rest of Alternia is eradicated as a result of Sgrub, reducing the population to twelve, messing up the possible meager remainder of the Alternian law system; exile no longer matters, Alternian society is gone, and the only trolls they have to answer to are each other. Justice, at this point, is largely narrowed down to Terezi Pyrope only, who takes on the role of legislacerator, but in the broadest possible sense - with no one else to defer to, with all the highbloods ending up dead, criminals themselves, or completely unfit to do any judging, Terezi becomes judge, jury, and executioner; no longer something that would count as vigilantism, because with only twelve trolls left and that number declining rapidly over the course of the aftermath of the game, she is the law. 

Now, though, with the Hiveswap era being the most relevant, it’s most interesting to look at the time between the beginning of the exiles and the time just before Sgrub, where the children who have never actually met adult trolls find themselves in a society where they’re expected to look up to adults and their professions, in order to be ready to suddenly enter adult Alternian society in outer space once they outgrow their adolescence - and their grasp of law may be tenous at best and incredibly vague at worst. 

We know for a fact that several of the Hiveswap teal trolls have an interest in jurisprudence, and it might at this point be entirely within reason to assume that this goes for all teals, to some degree. Tagora is the one we have seen the most clearly on this subject, given his routes in the Friendsim, and Tyzias is explicitly mentioned as extremely interested in “traditional jurisprudence” (presumably Alternian law pre-exile, which their contemporary jurisprudence would likely be based on), complete with (conspiracy) theories and thus, probably, also legal philosophy and things involving ethical and moral dilemmas that build the foundations of case law and details that separate crimes from non-crimes. Tirona is shown to be a fan of His Honorable Tyranny, and Tegiri’s bullet-points may imply that he’d be more involved in the persecution of criminals and wrong-doers. Stelsa is the only teal troll where we really do not have much to go on law-wise, but with some reaching, it’s possible to argue her as a notary, which would place her as more distantly involved with legal proceedings, primarily involving paperwork, signatures, witnessing, and other related (more bureaucratic) acts, which would also complement Tagora's contract focus nicely.

All in all, we actually know very little about Alternian society in matters that pertain to law, both pre-exile and post-exile. Yes, Redglare pursued Mindfang as a wanted criminal, but which parts of her known deeds was she pursued for? The thefts, the slavery, the murders, the mind manipulation of other trolls against their will, sexual advances with aforementioned methods to bypass consent in a way that deliberately messes with the victim's mind, leading them to wonder whether they truly consented to the advances or not? It's easy to assume all of the above and probably much more, but it's also very hard to say for certain which of her deeds were considered as crimes, since Redglare never did get to deliver her opening statement and Mindfang's journal is heavily biased. In the canon era of Homestuck, Alternian law is ever further unclear - Vriska murdering other trolls is frowned upon, but no one takes action until she begins maiming and eventually killing people in their circle of friends and associates, so it's never quite clear if the persecution of her (and, relatedly, Eridan and Gamzee once they begin their killing sprees) is because the acts were unlawful or simply a matter of personal vengeance disguised as justice, in what can only be considered vigilantism unless we find any proof she had a duty to respond to what they did. Eridan having killed a fuchsiablooded heiress would almost certainly count as a crime against Alternian society, even in a world decimated by the events of Sgrub, but he's never the one specifically persecuted; Terezi's main focus was Vriska, to the point of being so blinded by her personal bias that she even blamed Gamzee's deeds on her, and while Kanaya dished out the hurt in all three directions, Gamzee was the one she spent the most time focusing on afterwards (though that can probably be attributed to Eridan's deadness by then). 

Especially in Beforan society, we have incredibly little to go on when it comes to their justice system - if they even have one. Presumably they do, too, though their version of being sentenced to "culling" is more smothering than lethal. But Latula, despite her Alternian legacy as a prodigy legislacerator, seems to be more taken with seeming as unperturbed and unaffected by the world around her as possible - common for a Knight, but not so much for a tealblood. If anything, her Beforan sense of justice seems to lean more towards balance and equality, but it's skewed due to her need to hide herself behind a mask of disinterested radness and "girl power" that feels forced and unnatural. Just as importantly, we don't know if tealbloods were even predisposed towards civil duties and jurisprudence on Beforus; it might not have been a part of their society in their world to begin with, which again supports Latula's deviation from the Alternian norm. 

Coming back to a previously mentioned topic - what exactly are the legal differences between the different parts of the hemospectrum - I have my own theory regarding the difference between killing and culling. There seems to be little doubt that the higher end of the hemospectrum - seadwellers especially, but purplebloods as well, and to some degree indigo and cerulean bluebloods - gets away with much more. We know for a fact, with Tagora’s route in the Friendsim, that it’s entirely possible for the upper half of the hemospectrum to just sic drones on lowbloods and mutants for no other reason than that they personally feel like it, and several other lowblood routes (Skylla and Diemen, especially) show that lowbloods are shown very little mercy and would at best be laughed at if they brought their grievances to court; worst case they’d be murdered on the spot, or worse yet, given to a merciless highblood for torture and entertainment. If you’re a rustblood, bronzeblood, or goldblood, you’re more or less expected to be thankful you even get to live at all - there are certainly no perks or privileges, and the best you can hope for is to stay quiet and keep to yourself enough that no one higher up than you decides you’re not worth the space you take up on the planet. If you even get to be a mere servant for those above your station, for the short time you’re alive and off-planet (if you even survive until exile!), it’s considered pretty much the greatest honor you can get. After all, the only reason for the exile in the first place is to avoid another revolution by scattering trolls around the galaxy as soon as they’re old enough to not only formulate opinions, but act on them as a united group, and the highbloods are scattered even further so no one can hope to simply overthrow them in one rush. The Condesce herself even makes a point of staying as far away as possible, simply so no lowblood would ever be able to reach her, much less a congregation of revolutionaries. 

I’m talking myself away from the point, though - highbloods have more rights and privileges and can get away with most crimeful things, or at least, as long as the only victims are lowbloods. Where exactly that line is drawn depends on exactly how high the offender’s blood is, though; seadwellers practically have total authority, and fuchsiabloods can clearly do just about whatever they wish without having to take other trolls’ laws into account, even against violetbloods. However, while we know the hemospectrum plays a huge role in cases between highbloods and midbloods, and crimes done by lowbloods against mid- and highbloods or midbloods against highbloods, it’s completely unknown how cases between lowbloods are dealt with! With limebloods being eradicated, the three lowest castes don’t seem to be treated much differently, and are generally shunned and considered societal garbage, with barely any rights whatsoever. With this in mind, it’s more likely that rustbloods, bronzebloods, and goldbloods are given roughly the same amount of rights and justice, that is to say, not much at all. And taking the law into their own hands is only going to be overlooked as long as their victims are fellow lowbloods; midbloods and higher, after all, would be able to pursue justice through legislacerators, or simply their blood-given right to do whatever they want to their offenders. This is also presumably meant to foster a general distrust in lowbloods against each other as well as higher castes - if they can’t trust each other, they won’t band together, and will be more likely keep to themselves and sell each other out in hopes of favors from higher castes. Crude, but effective, as long as they don’t begin communicating more with each other and realizing just how many lowbloods there are who could fight their oppressors together. 

This brings me to the point I keep trying to get to: killing versus culling. 

Culling, as I understand it, is first and foremost a punishment. It may be in form of a court-ordered execution, or it may be vigilante justice done by highbloods; either way, culling is a means to achieve an end that is considered just, and not a crime. Killing, on the other hand, seems to carry heavy connotations in Alternia as well; lowbloods may be culled “for their own good” or to control the population or simply because they didn’t respect members of the castes above them or for showing signs of rebellion, but killing? Killing is, even in this violent society, something that is considered unjust. That’s when you bring in legislacerators. A highblood who kills a lower-blooded acquaintance or friend for little to no clear reason might still be seen by the larger Alternian society as a culling, as someone who had a reason (regardless of whether it’s a GOOD reason or simply what felt right to the highblood in question) to rid their world of merely another lowblood who didn’t know their place. But in smaller communities, such as the twelve Alternian trolls we follow through Sgrub, everyone knows everyone, and the death becomes personal; it becomes a killing, because to that chunk of society, that action feels unjust and unwarranted, no matter how high or low the blood. In a large-scale Alternian society, one lowblood here and there won’t be missed by many, nor even a midblood or two, but in a group where more or less the whole hemospectrum is equally represented and most everyone know one another, status means less. In that society, highbloods murdering lowbloods and midbloods is no longer an acceptable privilege; culling becomes limited to “just” murder, as punishment for what the members of that society considers to be against their greater good. This is one of the things that changes between the Hiveswap timeframe and the Homestuck timeframe, as a direct result of the removal of the rest of Alternian society and the expectations that once followed being part of that. 

Jesus, okay, I’m on about 3,300 words now, so I’ll see about reaching an end. If you’re still reading, I genuinely applaud you for your patience. Thanks for sticking with me here. 

Anyway - I think tealbloods, to varying degrees, do tend to be interested in matters relating to law, justice, and balance - it’s especially interesting to see how varied it gets in the Hiveswap trolls, and I’m really, REALLY looking forward to seeing what kind of fun new lore gibs we can pillage from them in Act 2. Like, Tagora’s route dropped traffic on us? Scuttlebuggies? Since when do they have CARS, holy fuck, when do they get their licences. Indigos would almost certainly be the ones most biased towards being car mechanics, not just because of their strength (lowbloods could just as easily do the grunt work with psionics), but a lot of mechanics pride themselves on it being almost an artform of sorts, especially building cool new rides, and we already know all the Zahhaks are suuuper predisposed towards robotics, not to mention Vikare wanting to tinker airplanes. Are their cars even mechanical in nature? Scuttlebuggy sounds like it could just as easily be derived from, I don’t know, lusii carcasses on wheels, giant insects, I don’t know. If they are mechanical, would the indigo influence have an effect on traffic law? Do they have any laws about cybercrime at all, either yes in order to punish more goldbloods (who are possibly more predisposed towards coding and the internet, like Sollux and Cirava) or no because that’s more of a goldblood thing and thus petty and unimportant in the grand scheme? Do caste predispositions and usual preferences play a role in Alternian law, skewing the priorities of what’s considered more severe crimes (lowblood things) or mere misdemeanors (highblood things)? Are trollcops basically the Sherlock Holmes of Alternia, idealized versions of a much less prevalent specific role than media/fiction makes it seem like? Is Troll Sherlock Holmes a tealblood? (I’m joking. Of course Troll Sherlock Holmes is a tealblood. Anything else at this point would be scandalous.) 

I have many questions. Hopefully, uh, somewhere in this ridiculous post there’s also some good answers, or at least things to chew on? I like thinking about these things too much. Also, the thought that sparked this entire rant in the first place was “hee hee, I hope tealbloods speak shitty troll Latin to impress each other, and also I hope they have loads of ridiculous case law things that leads to Weird Legal Conversations To Overhear like the slayer rule and eggshell skulls and clean hands (ABSOLUTELY a Tagora thing I’ll fight you this is real ass contract law shit) or calculus of negligence (Tirona, again, I’ll fight you) or one of my favorite things, the attractive nuisance, which just describes every tealblood ever”. 

Anyway. Thoughts. There are many. Please give me an excuse to come up with dumb Alternian case law for teal nerds to quote in my imaginary roleplays. I’m done for now. 

Probably. 

[moonchildjoonie]

Shattered [Prologue]

Parts:  Prologue │ 1 │

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Post Apocalyptic / Fallout!au / Fluff / Angst

Summary: “Okay princess,” he began a mocking tone laced into his words “so you're telling me you want me to go on a wild goose chase to find your friend, who was most likely lunch to a Super mutant?”

Though his thick brows were covered by his wavy dark hair you could still see them raised in question. Clenching your jaw you looked at Nochu in the eye.

“Listen here, you muscled pig.” You began jabbing a finger into his built chest as you stood your ground glaring at the handsome smirking man ahead of you “I did not kill a whole camp of raiders and risk my life in your fucking trap infested hideout for you to tell me this bullshit. Are you going to take my fucking money and help me find my friend or not?”

Or

In which you leave the comfortable safe life of the vault and lose your best friend only to hire a conceited mercenary with trust issues.

Warning: This is a fallout!au and for those who never heard of Fallout, it’s a post apocalyptic rpg game with dark themes. So this series will have mentions of death, blood, gore, bigotry, drug abuse, mental illness, sexual / nonsexual abuse, swearing, etc. So if you are not comfortable with anything mentioned above please DO NOT read this series.

A/N: I’m thinking about making a post on Fallout items descriptions and definitions for those of you who have never played the games. Please let me know if you’d like me to do so. 

The outside was an enigma to you, but it was what entranced you the most about the Wasteland. The Great War ended after the bombs dropped and the outside world had been uninhabitable. The only survivors were those who paid monthly installments to a reserve a place for themselves, and their families, in the vaults.

Vaults being underground building equipped with construction equipment, hydro-agricultural farms, water purification systems, defensive weaponry, communication systems, surface monitors, social / entertainment files and anything else needed to survive in case of a nuclear attack. Vaults were what kept humanity alive for hundreds of years after the bombs fell and irradiated the land. Those lucky enough to have access to one learned to enjoy their privileged lives no matter how mundane it was to live life underground. You, on the other hand, had dreamed of the day you could escape the tedious lifestyle of the vault.

You always hoped for something more than life underground. You wanted adventure and thrill, not the same repetitive dreary lifestyle you were living. Growing up you loved hearing the stories your father use to tell about life outside the vault. Of course, he didn't know it firsthand, but he had read it from one of his ancestor's diaries before it had been confiscated by the previous Overseer.

In vaults you were taught to obey the Overseer. It was the most important rule to follow. The Overseer being the leader of the vault and most often than not a dictator. Anything they say goes no matter how unfair.

The Overseer during your grandfather's time wanted all old-world remnants removed in hopes that no one would try to leave the vault. Though in time fights broke out between those who believed they had the right to leave and those who believed the vault doors should remain shut for all their safety. After years of problems between the two groups and the change of Overseers an agreement was made. Every 20 years the vault doors open to allow those, 18 years and older, who want to leave to do so. It minimized the amount of radiation and threats that could enter the vault but also gave a choice, to leave, to every generation. You knew what you wanted since the age of seven when you snuck into the Overseer's room and took the restricted old-world books. The next time the vault doors opened you would be, 20, free to make the choice to leave. You had nothing holding you back, you were the sort of kid who constantly got into trouble and had parents tell their children to stay away from you. Which led you to not have any friends other than an older boy who went by the name of Jin. His full name was Kim Seokjin, but he always told everyone to call him Jin. He was popular in the vault with his charismatic personality and attractive appearance, but he always spent his free time with you. The first time you met him was during one of your many trips to the infirmary. His mother was the vault doctor and he, often than not, was in the infirmary helping his mother with miscellaneous tasks. While you, on the other hand, spent a lot of your time in the infirmary due to constantly being injured either by your tinkering or by getting into a fight with one of the many kids in your class. Seokjin practically became your older brother looking after you and making sure you weren't getting into too much trouble. By age 16 everyone in the vault is forced to take the G.O.A.T, or the generalized occupational aptitude test, to determine what job you qualify for. Personally you enjoyed more hands-on jobs compared to mental work. In the end, you ended up as the vaults technician which you didn't absolutely hate for the four years you did it. Now at age 20, the day had come. The day the vault doors would open once again. A smile graced your features as you stood in front of the large vault doors. Rocking on the balls of your feet you were excited for the adventure that awaited you outside the giant slab of metal. Glancing to your left you looked at your partner's anxious face. Biting on his full bottom lip in worry, his eyes met yours in hopes you would change your mind. On his back sat a bag full of all the essential items to survive water, nonperishable food, medication, change of clothes, a blanket, a few holotapes to record on, and other little items that held sentimental value. You had the same packed in a bag of your own, give or take, with a bit more ammo stuffed into your bag for protection. Taking his large hand in yours you gripped it tight trying to convey some kind of comfort to the older boy. "Jinnie you don't have to come with me you know. I told you multiple of times I can take care of myself. Have been for years now." You said smiling softly at the taller boy.

Seokjin scoffed rolling his eyes at you. His grip on your hand growing stronger. "Liar who's been patching you up since you were seven? I don't trust medication in your hands." Tugging on your joined hands his eyes met yours and he gave you a serious look "I could never let you go on your own." Staring at you fondly his hand patted the top of your head "You're my cute younger sibling and it's too late to get rid of me." Seokjin jokingly added shrugging his wide shoulders. Seokjin often hid his emotions behind jokes and smiles. You knew him well enough to know he was afraid of what lies behind the closed vault doors. His fingers drummed against his thigh as he kept biting down on his plump lower lip. Both obvious signs that he was nervous. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. You would love to have Seokjin join you on your adventure out into the wasteland, but you would never force him to go with you. The two of you had multiple disputes during the months leading to this day. You could always see his hesitation, but he always ended the argument with a firm "I'm going with you whether you like it or not. I don't care how sick of me you get I'm not leaving your side." "Seokjin" you called out straightening out your posture to show how serious you were "I know you said you're coming with me, but I want to give you this last chance to back out before the door opens. This has been my dream since I was a little girl, but this was never yours. Please think this through once more." You hoped he would agree to join you on this adventure but part of you also wanted him to choose to stay. You knew he never planned on leaving the vault like you did Seokjin prioritized practicality and safety. He found that in the vault not out into the unknown behind the vault doors. You were not going to take it away from him unless he was positive about his choice of joining you on your adventure. Jin let out a long sigh before interlacing your fingers together. "We are in this together. Like a package deal okay? We're going to say goodbye to my mom who's waiting over there for us," he signaled with a nod of his head in his mother direction "and we're going to walk out of the place and show the wasteland we aren't to be messed with." Seokjin exclaimed a large smirk playing on his lips as he tugged you over to his mother. Standing tall she waited by the controls that open the door. A faraway look rested on her tired face. You don't recall when she began to look so worn. To you she always looked beautiful and strong. She constantly emitted an air of confidence in her infirmary with her proper straight posture, long black locks always pulled up in a tight bun and her lips pulled in a soft smile. Her hands were always soft as she checked you over and patched you up. Her movements slow and careful making sure her patients were comfortable and never in too much pain. She was the kindest person throughout the whole vault. Though today was different her hair was thrown into a messy bun that was threatening to fall out its hair tie. Her usual clear skin had dark bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep and worry lines on her forehead. It never dawned on you how much stress this day must have caused the doctor. Her only son leaving never to be seen again. This was her final day to see her son alive and well. Her affectionate gaze turned towards you and her son. A soft smile pulled at the ends of her lips as she met the both of you halfway. Seokjin unlaced your fingers and reached out to his mother who quickly pulled him into a tight hug. His tall height and broad shoulders engulfed his mother's smaller build. Her arms held tightly at his thin waist and her face pressed into his shoulder as they embraced for the final time. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you watched their emotional farewell. They were holding back their tears afraid of breaking the other's heart more than it already was. Silently they took in one another. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest knowing you were the cause of their separation. Seokjin loved his mother with all his heart doing all in his power to help lessen her load in the infirmary and making sure she didn't feel lonely when his father returned late. His father being the Overseer of the vault made him spend most of his time in his office figuring out how to make the vault more efficient and comfortable for the dwellers. Seokjin and his mother having a close bond full of trust. They always believed in each other's judgment no matter the circumstance. It was clear the doctor didn't question her son's choice in leaving only making peace with it. Pulling apart, Seokjin and his mother held each other's hands tightly as they exchanged some words. Sorrowful smiles played on their lips taking in each other's appearance. Before separating Seokjin's mother pulled him down to place a kiss on his forehead. Running her thin fingers through his hair a few times before turning to look at you. Her eyes glistened in the light with unshed tears as she walked over to you Seokjin following close behind her. Reaching out for you she pulled you into a tight hug. "Y/N please take care of each other okay?" her usual soft voice was slightly hoarse due to her suppressing the sobs that threatened to pass her lips. "I love you and wish you luck on your adventures honey." Pulling back her dark eyes met yours. Softly she threaded her fingers through your hair. Taking a shaky breath, you tried to swallow down the lump rising in your throat. You didn’t think about how difficult leaving would be. When you thought back then there was nothing holding you back. You had no friends, other than Seokjin who continually told you he was leaving with you, and you had no family. Your mother passed away while you were 7. It was one of the factors to your rebellious actions. Some of your classmates teased you for not having a mother and others stayed quiet in fear of being bullied as well. Ten years later your father passed away only a few months after your 17th birthday. It hurt but it gave you more of a reason to leave the vault. It never occurred to you how much you would actually miss Seokjin's mother. She treated you with the love and care she would for her own child. With your mind so set on leaving you never factored in Seokjin's mother as a reason not to leave. Now with a few minutes left till the thick vault doors open you were being hit by the blunt force of what your choice entailed. Not only were you leaving behind the difficult times but the happy times you spent in the infirmary with the Kim's. You're leaving behind the time you spent with your father tinkering with the radio and other objects he found. You were leaving behind the only thing you knew for 20 years. Trying to blink back the tears burning in the back of your eyes you took one of her hands in yours. "Thank you, Mr. Kim, for everything you did for me." you faltered with a weak smile lifting at your lips. A smile lite up on her face as grabbed Seokjin, with her free hand, and tugs the two of you back into an embrace. "Take care of each other okay?" She softly says her voice trembling. "I won't be able to look over you two anymore so make sure you eat. Seokjin won't forget but I know when something catches your interest you forget everything else." Seokjin's mother fretted with a soft chuckle. "Seokjin try out new things be a little more daring. I know you like to be safe and you aren't a fan of taking risks but you're heading to a new place, seeing new things, and meeting all kinds of people. I want you to know you made the right choice leaving the vault and enjoy life out there okay?" Pulling back slightly she glance at both you and Seokjin. Her bright smile contrasted with the wet trail of tears on her cheeks. "I love you both so much. Take care and make the most out of the adventure you two or going to have. It might get difficult. There may be times you regret your choice and during those times support each other like you two always have." The doctor gave you two one last squeeze before pulling away completely. "5 minutes till we open the vault door!" Call out the security guard at the controls. The sudden yell caused Seokjin to stiffen and quickly turn in the direction of the security guard. A shaky chuckle left his lips, as he turned back to look at both you and his mother, an embarrassed look crossing his face. Both you and his mother glanced at each other in amusement. "You're going to have to work on that honey." The doctor chortled teasingly. Patting his shoulder softly his mother made her way back over to her spot next to the security guard. Goosebumps pricked at your skin as a sense of nervousness flowed through you. Running your hand through your hair a few times you took a deep breath trying to relax. This was what you had been waiting years for. The chance to experience something new and live a more fulfilling life. No longer would you have to sit around and wait till something needed to be fixed. You had a whole world of new experiences waiting for you outside the large looming door of the vault. The soft brush of a hand against yours broke you out of your thoughts. Looking up you met the tender gaze of Seokjin. His gentle smile calmed your pounding heart. Taking a deep breath, you stood tall a confident smile pulled at the ends of your lips. Interlacing your hand with Seokjin's the both of you looked towards the flashing lights of the vault door. The last thing you could remember was the blaring alarms notifying the vault that the door had been opened once again and the warm sunlight against your skin.

It was the start of your new life.

[shortstruck83-blog]

Offseason Evaluations: LT Jason Peters

The Philadelphia Eagles have decisions to make at almost every position at the roster this offseason. Whether related to the cap or the draft, starters or depth pieces, these players and the possible avenues of their future with the Eagles requires some good tape study, roster management, and foresight. That’s what we hope to model here.

Starting us off: Eagles’ future Hall of Fame LT Jason Peters.

Film Review

Coming off of a torn ACL/MCL in his left knee from the middle of the 2017 season, Peters’ functional quickness generally returned, but there was still a discernible drop-off in his explosiveness in 2018.

An ex-TE who dominated for a decade with great quickness for his size, Peters struggled with twitchy rushers across the 2018 season, even before he began experiencing quadricep tightness in the back half of the season.

You quickly notice that, while he didn’t get beaten around the outside edge track often, many of Peters’ losses in pass protection this season came against inside moves. Peters’ left knee was the one most recently injured: as a LT, that’s Peters’ kick leg, and it helps him generate power to come back upfield and inside against rushers attacking the B-gap. If that knee never came back to full health, that could potentially explain some of Peters’ struggles handling inside moves in 2018.

Furthermore, Peters tore his right bicep in Week 6 against the New York Giants. That right hand is Peters’ inside hand, and with it not at full power, Peters was lacking in some of his punch power and ability to sustain blocks post-injury. I tried to avoid that film as best as I could, but given Peters’ extensive injury history that has only become more relevant across the last two seasons, it’s worth noting that he’s likely to be banged-up player for the remainder of his career.

It’s tough to fault Peters for his losses against Khalil Mack in Week 18 of a season that really did a number on him, especially when you consider the positive reps he modeled as well. Generally speaking, Peters had a more effective season than I expected off of my memory of his 2018 performances.

Peters’ greatest strength in his advanced age is his toolbox. With a plethora of techniques mastered and contextualized, Peters can present so many different looks to rushers from his basic sets. With hand fakes, smart footwork, and savvy veteran play, Peters can dictate terms to even elite rushers by confusing their sense of timing and angles; throwing them off of their initial rush plan.

And at the end of the day, Peters still remains a strong recovery player. A huge body with great length, Peters is tough to get around even if when you get him out of position; and he still has great quickness around the edge track to carry rushers beyond the peak of the pocket. That creates alleys in the pocket, which the quarterback can use to escape pressure — a win for the offensive line.

Having watched Peters’ 2018 film in-depth and being familiar with his play style and success in seasons past, it’s easy to call Peters a Top-20 offensive tackle in the league heading into 2019. While his physical tools are wearing down, Peters’ technical understanding and remaining plus traits more than complete the form of a starting tackle at the NFL level.

That said, the wearing of Peters’ physical traits also makes him an unsteady starter. Despite starting every game for the Eagles in 2018, Peters played less than 80% of the total offensive snaps as he dealt with nagging injury. When on the field, even nursing injuries, Peters is as good of a left tackle as you could ask for — but he isn’t on the field as much as you’d like.

Contract

Per Over the Cap, this is Jason Peters’ current contract:

Originally, Peters’ 2018 season would have been the final year on his 4-year extension signed back in 2014. However, in 2017, GM Howie Roseman extended Peters’ deal by one year — this 2019 year — which is a team option year. Philadelphia must pick up Jason Peters’ option before the 2019 league year starts on March 14th, or Peters will enter free agency.

The extension served to protect Peters from being cut in 2017 (and to a lesser degree), 2018. At the structure of his previous deal, both were significant options that Peters clearly wanted to avoid. The 2019 year was tagged on to add a year onto which to prorate the new guaranteed money, which helped lower Peters’ 2017 cap number and generate cap space at the time of the restructure.

Whether or not Philadelphia got a return on their investment is a tricky matter. In 2017, Peters had an absurdly low cap figure for his talent, but failed to see the field due to the ACL/MCL tear. In 2018, Peters’ play again exceeded that of a $10.6M cap figure, but remembered: they paid that number for only 80% of the snaps.

In 2019, Peters is slated to be the 10th-highest paid left tackle and 11th-highest paid tackle overall (the only right tackle above him is teammate Lane Johnson), with a cap number of $13.2M. Even if you’re assuming Peters plays ~100% of the snaps, which is an unrealistic prediction, Peters is a fringe Top-10 talent at LT and may be overtaken by younger talent in his age-37 season.

Beyond 2019, it is highly unlikely Philadelphia would extend Peters’ contract or look to retain him in free agency; and given the success of his career, the expectation is that Peters would retire. The only way Philadelphia could reasonably extend Peters is if they restructure his deal to lessen his 2019 cap hit, by adding yet another option year at the end of his deal, that they would likely never pick up — but that is very unlikely.

It is worth noting that 1) denying Peters’ team option, 2) cutting Peters at any point after picking up the option, or 3) Peters retiring would all recoup Philadelphia a full $10.5M dollars, creating $2.7M in dead cap. It’s unclear what exactly 4) trading Peters midseason would do, as there may be per-game bonuses built into his guaranteed money.

Options At The Position

Free Agency

The free agent market at tackle is typically a scary place to go, and this year is no different. There is not a better talent than Peters on the market, save for perhaps New England’s Trent Brown — but buyer beware of ex-Patriot offensive linemen, who often wilt outside of the Belichick/Scarnecchia sunshine.

In 2019, Philadelphia will have the highest paid right tackle (seventh overall tackle), fifth-highest paid guard, and 12th-highest paid center. Given the money the Eagles have already poured into the offensive line, it seems unlikely that they would cut Peters to pursue a high-tag free agent starter.

Rostered

Philadelphia would love for their 2019 starting LT to be on the roster, should Peters be cut/retire — but they’re likely square outta luck. Entering his fourth season, swing tackle Halapoulivaati Vaitai has had more than ample opportunity to prove that he can take over for Jason Peters. However, his reps in relief of the injured Peters over the past two season have done little to inspire: Big V still struggles with balance and foot speed in pass protection, and surrenders pressures too easily when left on an island.

Behind Vaitai, the immediate depth is dire. Fellow fourth-year Isaac Seumalo allegedly has emergency tackle ability, as does second-year guard Matt Pryor, but only Seumalo has seen reps at a tackle alignment in a game, and those were minimal and pitiful.

The name of interest will always be rugby convert Jordan Mailata. A player with a wonderfully high ceiling, Mailata could have developed into a starting-caliber NFL tackle in only one true season as a football player — but read that sentence back and tell me how feasible it seems. The optimistic outlook for Mailata in 2019 is that he can dress on game days as a backup, and potentially threaten Vaitai for the OT3 spot.

Assuming Peters remains rostered and starting in 2019, Philadelphia will likely hope to see if Mailata can win the job in 2020, after two full NFL seasons under his belt.

Draft Class

This 2019 offensive tackle class is spectacular, and if Philadelphia is serious about Peters’ current quality of play and health, they should look to address the position early. Another bout with injury could force Philadelphia into playing Vaitai long-term, which could spell disaster for Carson Wentz, who has now seen two straight seasons cut short with injury.

Rookie tackles are a scary proposition nonetheless, so an option better than Vaitai would likely cost Philadelphia their first-round pick, at 25 overall. By then, expect Alabama’s Jonah Williams and Florida’s Jawaan Taylor to be off the board — they’re the best this class has to offer.

But Oklahoma’s Cody Ford, a massive body but graceful mover, could still be available; same goes for Wisconsin’s David Edwards, who is an athlete reminiscent of Lane Johnson. Philadelphia loves dipping into West Virginia for talent, and could bring in Mountaineer Yodny Cajuste, or Senior Bowl standout Dalton Risner, from Kansas State.

Regardless of Peters’ state for 2019, offensive tackle will be in serious consideration for the Eagles at pick 25. If they forgo the early pick for another later development piece, names like Edwards and Cajuste could still be available. But also keep eyes on Washington behemoth Kaleb McGary, Alabama State’s athlete Tytus Howard, and USC’s explosive Chuma Edoga.

Evaluation and Expectation

When you look at the recourses for cap space for a team that will need to create some, Jason Peters is one of the first names you circle. There is almost no chance he is retained beyond 2019; his play and health are both declining; he has the fourth-biggest cap hit on the team, and only Nick Foles’ departure would add more money back into the pool.*

In a vacuum, Jason Peters is probably a player you should seriously consider cutting.

But Jason Peters is a beloved locker room player and dear friend of owner Jeffrey Lurie. Despite what cutting Peters could do for the team financially, the emotional leadership and league-wide respect are perhaps too great of value to risk. Peters is tenured, in that he should be supported and not cast aside in his old age; he has earned the right to go out on his own terms.

And at the end of the day, his on-field product is likely still worth $13.2M this season (especially if Nate Solder is worth $17M and Eric Fisher is worth $13.6M). When you consider the comp picks Philadelphia is hoping to receive following the departures of Nick Foles, Golden Tate, Brandon Graham (?), Ronald Darby (?), and Jordan Hicks, they are unlikely to be big players in free agency this year anyway. So that 2019 cap space that cutting Peters would create? As long as they’re in the black, it wouldn’t mean that much.

That said, if Peters is mulling retirement a season early, that is a decision Philadelphia’s front office should support and even hope for. Without doing Peters the dishonor of cutting him, it would alleviate their books and give them more flexibility to potentially re-sign some of their own free agents. They would have to draft a LT high in response, but that’s coming ‘round the mountain anyway.

As it stands, Peters is most likely to play out the final year of his deal, at a level of play at or slightly under that cap figure. All things considered, Philadelphia will return all five of their starting offensive linemen — keeping intact a unit that performed above all others in 2017, and showed flashes of the same dominance in 2018.

*Cutting Timmy Jernigan with a post-June 1st designation could make him a bigger alleviation than Peters.

Source: https://www.bleedinggreennation.com/2019/2/14/18224523/philadelphia-eagles-jason-peters-2019-nfl-draft

[drosera-sundews]

A word on gambling

Hey all, I found the Elsewhere University page like two days ago but man, I was so inspired right away. Please allow me to add to this marvellous universe. 

Some words in advance: 

This story ties into a few others. Nothing but quick mentions, though; @fruedtrollism and @comerunwildwithme you two may catch brief glances of you characters :) It also features the weird humanoid/horseoid skeleton beast from this post. 

For those who haven’t seen the EU blog yet: Al you need to know is that the setting is a prestigious university set on top of a fairy hill. Have fun reading!

 A word on gambling 

Not all who come to the Elsewhere University come to study. Most have a vague idea of what they’re getting into, whether from stories told by old, withered family members or odd advertisements, folders or websites filled with cryptic warnings. An unfortunate few go in unprepared, and either catch up quickly or pay the price.

Some come to bet, to bargain or to gamble.

While some of them are just plain greedy, it’s mostly just the lost causes. The ones who’ve heard ‘no’ a few times to often by many different doctors. The other students treat them with poorly concealed pity and resigned respect. After all, who wouldn’t turn to desperate measures when in their shoes? The world hasn’t been fair to them. The gentry are, at the very least. Cruel and merciless, true, but fair and honest at their cores.

Yet, the gamblers come in many different forms. A girl who’s lungs once belonged to another, the second son of a rich businessman, a young dancer who trained and fought for years to reach her dream and now found that her achilles tendon, both literally and figuratively, was just a few millimetres too short.  

Oh yes, you can wait for favours, but each and every person in this school with half a brain to them will do anything to help the gentry, if only not to get on their bad side. And without an agreement they may repay you in any way they see fit. The gifts will be valuable, but not what you need. You’ll need to show initiative, you’ll need to gamble with all that you have.

The problem with gambling with the fair folk is the currency. They are not interested in money, and there are very little precious goods they cannot acquire. Promises and debts are an option, but are risky when not very, very carefully defined. Some might have weird preferences (like that odd horse-like skeleton that will go to great lengths for shiny plastic beads). Most however don’t.  

They are called the Exchange Student, with capitals, because that’s what they do. They are a student, everyone is certain about that. They sit in math class, biology, sometimes in history. They hang out with the programmers and the art majors. They wear their iron, carry their salt, and seem perfectly normal, even from the corner of your eye. Unsuspecting, until you deliberately come to them.

Please leave your iron and salt at the door. Don’t worry, as long as we’re discussing business no one will disturb us. It is merely a show of faith.  

They’re called the Exchange Student because that’s what they do. Exchange of currencies. Exchange of valuta.

Don’t worry, I am a professional. The procedure will be quick and painless. I cannot promise a lack of scars, but damage will be minimal, I have done this many times before.”

“I hope you have brought a trinket?”

When the Exchange Student invites you to ‘discuss business’ you take two things with you. A trinket and an offering. The offering is something small. Some food, a nice rock, a coin. Some art majors perform their favourite song, or offer a drawing or a statue, anything goes. It’s but a small fee.

The trinket can also be anything, though of course there are rules. ‘It needs to last,’ says one of the engineers, ‘something sturdy, something that doesn’t break easily.’

‘Something small which is easily concealed. Something you can carry with you. You’ll want to.’

‘and for the love of everything, don’t take something living! Not even a plant! Well... unless you’re absolutely sure what you are doing.’

The Exchange Student will make a circle around them and their customer. Most often made of candles, rocks, or sometimes even coins. Mostly they will take you somewhere silent, somewhere not easily disturbed. Though there are tales of that one time they sat someone down in the middle of the southern canteen, their circle made out of various plastic cups and mugs. No one dared disturb them.

The procedure is painless. A few incantations, some mental exercises, guided meditation, long scaled talons grasping at the edges of your soul, carefully picking you apart.

You’ll come back to yourself, Trinket carefully clasped in your hands. Looking exactly the same as you went in. The item in your hands will have a word on it. A single word, usually golden letters and in the exact handwriting of the person holding it.

Courage, Willpower, Kindness, Insight, Patience, Optimism, Strength.

Anything goes. And that’s how the students of Elsewhere University were made to carefully reconsider their unspoken rule of ‘bet nothing you cannot lose.’

Turns out that those who take to gambling can lose more than they’d ever imagined.

It’s said that it’s a very jarring experience to have an integral part of your being cut away from you. It’s said that, although not painful, students who’ve undergone the procedure spend the first few days in a haze of discomfort, fully aware that something is wrong, something is not as it should be, and they will grab their Trinket and will press it to their skin and refuse to part with it. Their body and spirit knowing where it belongs, but just not being able to get it there.

Quite a few of these Trinkets are being kept on the campus. Most are surrounded in mystery. A few students are suspected of having made a deal with the Exchange Student, like the photographer, the one with the lip ring, who owns this small umbrella that jingles when it rains. Or the student who always wears pearls. Many have cast a glance to spy for golden letters. 

Some are more open about their deals with the Exchange Student. It’s a tradition among programming majors to bind their Insight to a rubber duck, the sillier the better. It’s ridiculed a lot, but the tradition stands strong across the years. And it’s said that sometimes when one of the programmers is really stuck in one of their endless webs of codes the others will aid them by placing their rubber ducks in a circle around the computer. The ones willing to share their Insight are said to be nigh unstoppable.

The Trinkets are like casino tokens. The gentry find them irresistible, and will go to great lengths to acquire them. They never steal them, instead opting to either win or trade them, playing by their own odd rules.

Good gamblers can get anything from the gentry. Magical weapons, exotic skills and other gifts. Sometimes in the form of small objects engraved with gold.

Just remember not to let them catch you cheating.

Another good thing to remember: even though the gentry will not steal a Trinket as by their rules, the same cannot be said of the human students. Guard your virtues well.

Losing a part of yourself is highly unadvisable, always.

Some try to cheat the system. Cutting of pieces they think they can do without. The second son who came specifically to gamble for glory decided he could do without his fears, especially if he was to join the fae for poker night. He had the Exchange Student cut away his Fear. Covered it in salt, put it in a box of rowan wood and gave the key to a friend, to safeguard. He then shamelessly stepped into the queens quarters, asking her what it was worth, what she was willing to give him.

Most were pretty sure the noise drifting through the windows that night didn’t come from rugby practice.

The defected dancer did not wish to gamble. She knew what she had, what she wanted and what she wished to sacrifice for that.

“I offer you my Preservance. I have trained and trained for years on uncertain odds. It is finely honed and very strong and I hope to not need it anymore after today. In return I would like a better body. Suited for a dancer. So that I will not get injured and that stupid things like too short tendons or too weak joints will no longer hold me back. That is my bargain.”

Ḏ̤͕̜̄E̶̱̭A̖̙͞L̮͔̙͖͖ͧ͢

No one is quite sure she got what she wished for. Her body is certainly suited to dancing. Waving and mesmerizing, hypnotizing even. All students on campus know to avert their eyes. Things like that are dangerous, they know.

Few have tried to peek at her face, to see if they could find any trace of their former classmate back. To see if she was happy.

It’s hard to tell emotions from a face that has no eyes.

She’s rarely seen anymore, these days. Apparently she dances for the queen now. An honour, truly.

Legends tell of one gambler that made it out with both her Trinket and her desired price. The girl with the lungs that did not belong to her. The girl who came to the university with only two years left to live, and nothing left to lose. She sought out the Exchange Student in her second week, bringing two large, copper coins she’d saved to put on her eyelids when all went wrong.

She did not cheat and she did not bargain. She gambled. She went to that one odd place in the library, stepped into the shadows, and was not seen for two whole months.

A single game of cards may take that long. Especially with such high stakes. Especially with the fae.

They appreciate warriors. She had come to their table, faced with the entire court. She was given cards that had no numbers, but unfamiliar runes. She was not told the rules. Yet she played. Mimicking the others, she held her own for days and days and days.

Of course she lost. The fae are rarely beaten at their own games.

When she came back, stumbling, disoriented, underfed and horribly dehydrated, she remembered barely anything. Not the faces of her opponents, not the hand of cards she was dealt or what the other players had put on the table alongside her Trinket. She only remembered losing, the cold dread as she stared down at the horrid combination of cards her weak hand could not possibly compare with. And the queens cold crackling as she reached across the table for the small copper coin. And the horrid sensation of ice flooding her chest as her Kindness was taken from her.    

A very powerful Trinket indeed.

She’d woken up laying on a table in the library. Gasping for breath through her dry, dry throat. A copper coin on a very thin chain wrapped around her neck. On one side the golden letters, on the other a complex pattern, a rune in an unknown language, (though a few very bright history student managed to decipher an ancient runic symbol for Air among the twining lines).  

They brought her to the medics, and it was only after thorough examination that the girl discovered that despite her sore throat, her breath came easier than it had in years.

She never left Elsewhere University, afraid that whatever enchantment had been cast on her would falter when away from the queen. Instead she chose to finish the study she’d randomly signed up for in her mad gamble. She ended up a teacher, a permanent part of the staff. The others understood that sending her away would not be an option. Most other teachers had been students as well, after all. They understood the ways this place can change you.

She still wears the amulet up to this day. Some say that this is not a choice born from the instinctive desire to keep a Trinket close, but that every time she removes it from her skin her breath will come short and her lungs will burn. Some even say that it cannot be removed, whether by choice or force. They say the queen enchanted it (too much, too powerful. Let it stay with the human. Where no fae can get their hands on it.)

Some come to her still, for advice and tips on gambling. She’ll send them all away, discourage them. Even though deep inside she knows she’s made the right choice.

‘It needs to last’ one of the engineers had told her. She grasps her amulet, the copper strong as ever, infused with unfamiliar magic keeping her alive. She knows her Kindness will outlast her and wonders where it will end up. 

However much the memory haunts her, she hopes that maybe one day it will make its way back into the hands of the queen. Out of anyone, she certainly needs it the most.  

[cutsliceddiced]

New top story from Time: Zion Williamson’s Exploding Shoe Is a Reminder That College Basketball Needs Serious Fixing

Zion? No!!! Please. Not Zion.

Even if you’re one of the biggest Duke basketball haters on the planet — we’re aware there are many of you — there was only one proper response to what transpired 33 seconds into Wednesday night’s clash between Duke and North Carolina at Cameron Indoor Stadium in Durham, N.C. And that’s utter sadness.

Duke freshman Zion Williamson is what I (somewhat stupidly?) call a “no sandwich” player. As in, don’t go fixing a sandwich in the kitchen while this guy’s on TV in your living room. Williamson’s an athletic freak, liable to leap over an entire zone defense for a post-ready slam. He’s supremely skilled, entering the game against UNC averaging 22.4 points and 9.2 rebounds per game, while shooting a ridiculous 68% from the field.

“No sandwich” players don’t come through college basketball that often. Kevin Durant was another one, at Texas, more than a decade ago. So when Williamson’s left foot tore through his Nike shoe early in Wednesday’s game, causing his knee to awkwardly buckle, basketball fans shuttered at the idea that an injured Williamson would have to miss this rivalry game, and maybe much more — especially as he’s considered a top prize in the upcoming NBA draft lottery.

Zion might be fine — he walked off the court on his own accord, and early reports indicate that the shoe explosion caused just a mild knee strain. But no matter how many games Williamson does or doesn’t miss, the incident served as an all-too useful reminder that one key part of basketball’s business model needs serious fixing.

The Duke star was NBA-ready right out of high school. Williamson should have had the option to get drafted, and lock up a multi-million dollar NBA contract — not to mention lucrative shoe and other sponsorship deals — last June. But ever since the NBA instituted an age restriction in 2006, players have needed to be at least 19 (and one season removed from high school graduation) to be draft-eligible. Back then, the NBA was concerned that too many high school players unprepared for the pros were entering the league. So that means elite prospects like Williamson have essentially been funneled into college for a year, creating a class of “one-and-done” college sports stars who try to win an NCAA title before bolting school for the pros after freshman year.

To be fair, Williamson didn’t have to play for Duke. He could have just sat out his year before the draft, worked to improve his game, and minimized his injury risk. But college ball offers benefits beyond pure economics. Who wouldn’t want to star for Duke? Playing in front of the rabid Cameron Crazies, against bitter rival North Carolina, in front of a rapt national TV audience can be a unique, treasured life experience for an 18-year-old like Williamson. In fact, Williamson has said he would have played college basketball even if he could have shot straight from high school to the NBA.

“I always knew I would go to college,” Williamson recently told NCAA.com. “Even if they would’ve had the NBA rule, I still would’ve came to college. You’re never going to get this experience again. Once you go to the league, it’s grown men, kids, families. It’s not just teenagers having fun. It’s business then.”

Let’s take Zion at his word. If he indeed would have skipped instant millions for a year of college, you have to respect that personal decision. But that doesn’t mean he, and others like him, shouldn’t have the option to do otherwise. Kobe Bryant and LeBron James didn’t play for Duke — or any other college team — and they turned out just fine heading straight from high school to the pros. And what’s worse, Williamson, and others like him, not only can’t join the NBA right away, but thanks to NCAA amateurism rules, they can’t receive compensation, either — all while fueling the mighty economic engine of college sports. Wednesday night, countless entities were making big money off the Zion Williamson spectacle: ESPN. Duke. North Carolina. Whoever drove Barack Obama to Cameron (Zion draws both former presidents and the best players on the planet to his games.)

“His shoe broke.” pic.twitter.com/FAtpaF5uAt

— Chase Hughes (@ChaseHughesNBCS) February 21, 2019

What did Zion get out of it? A busted Nike shoe and potential for career jeopardy.

Indeed, the shoe incident was stunning. Nike, a company with some $133 billion in market cap that’s accrued millions in brand value thanks to its sponsorship of Duke basketball — but cannot compensate the generational talent creating a chunk of that value for the company — could have played a role in damaging Zion’s career, thanks to a questionable product. Nike’s stock is down about 1% as of midday Thursday. “We are obviously concerned and want to wish Zion a speedy recovery,” Nike said in a statement. “The quality and performance of our products are of utmost importance. While this is an isolated occurrence, we are working to identify the issue.”

No matter the timetable of Zion’s return, Wednesday night’s injury is the indelible image of this college basketball season. First, the exploding sneaker. Next, we might witness the exploding knee. No teenage athlete should ever forget it.

via https://cutslicedanddiced.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/how-to-prevent-food-from-going-to-waste

[berna2206thames19-blog]

Realistic Hand Chalk Secrets Under Scrutiny

A Useful A-z On Rational Liquid Grip Canada Programs

Many people want to get a great-looking, healthy body by working out and becoming involved in fitness training. It is very important to be in good health and fitness. Being in great shape allows you to lead an active, fun-filled life and greatly increases your life span. For people who are interested in the health of their body, you need to read the tips in this article. If you are serious about becoming more fit, you should select a routine that improves flexibility, burns calories and tones multiple muscle groups. See if any classes are offered in your area. Strenghtening your thighs can help prevent sports injuries to the knees. A ligament tear behind the kneecap is a frequent sports injury that can create life-long issues. Work out both your hamstrings and your quads to ensure that your knees are protected. Try performing leg curls and extensions. Having a strong core is very important. Every physical activity you engage in will be positively influenced by a strong core. Crunches and sit-ups provide a great workout while helping to strengthen your core. Additionally, you can increase your range of motion with sit-ups. This will make your ab muscles to work harder and longer. Do exercises you don't like and feel accomplished that you conquered them. The idea behind this tip is that people usually skip exercises they are particularly weak at. Become a master at the exercise you like the least by practicing it more. Make a regular schedule to prevent you from not making exercise a part of your life. Set a number of days during the week that you will work out, and stick to that number. Try a "make-up" day to make up for a missed workout. Running is an activity that can be helpful, as well as harmful to the body over time. To minimize the damage, every sixth week run only half your usual miles to give your body rest time. By cutting your mileage in half you are letting your body recover from the extensive exercise. This is crucial if you want to prevent injuries. Many are under the impression that daily abdominal exercise is wise. This can actually be counterproductive. Abs are like any other muscle and need rest periodically. Ideally, you will work out your abs every two to three days. Build your quadriceps easily by doing box squats. Do box squats and you will greatly improve your normal squats. Setting a box of the appropriate height behind you is the only preparation you need. Do the squat like normal, but pause when you get to the box. A great fitness tip to help you build up your calf muscles, is to start doing donkey calf raises. Donkey calf raises help greatly build up and tone the muscles in your calves. A partner is helpful to lay on and help you to raise your calves. Remember to balance back exercise with exercise on the front of your body. If you are experiencing back pain when doing abdominal exercises, work to strengthen your back muscles. When you work your abdominal area, spend some time strengthening your back muscles for better back health. Take it slow if you are just starting your workout program. You need to learn the right way to breathe and do the exercises. This will be the best way to advance and not get injured. If you do exercises incorrectly, you could injure yourself. and your goals will be harder to achieve. Ice any muscle sprains that you get right away. It will help minimize the redness and swelling. Once you've done that, elevate the area to encourage proper circulation. Never put ice on bare skin, as it can cause damage. Always wrap it in cloth or a towel first. You should work your core regularly. You should work your abs only twice or three times each week. Let them rest in between just like you would any other muscle. Through exercise and healthy dietary choices, you can be healthy and live for many years. It is critical that you make your health a priority in your life. Following the guidance provided earlier in the article is a great way to start your journey towards becoming more physically fit and healthy.

The Growing Opportunities In Real-world Canada Solutions

Predictably, TPP12 economic studies showed a trivial 0.07-per-cent gain from new Canadian exports over the next 18 years because most tariff barriers have already been removed by long-standing WTO commitments or existing Canadian trade agreements with TPP countries. The Canadian government's own trade modellers expressly stated that their TPP12 studies did not account for the agreement's adverse effects on our innovation economy. Modern trade deals are "Asset Valuation Protection Agreements" for the global knowledge-based economy and only minimally deal with open-border issues. They entrench structural inequalities between owners of IP and their buyers, because this is where the money lies in the 21st century. Innovation has emerged as cause célèbre in Canadian economic-policy discourse, but the pundits who dominate discussions treat IP as a niche purview for high-tech companies. IP, and increasingly data, are the wealth drivers for all industries in the 21st century, because every business today is a technology business. Those who own IP and data are those that continue to enjoy economic growth. That's why smart countries around the world are rapidly increasing their stocks of IP through their domestic companies, maintaining control of their data systems and then turning these intangible assets into national wealth drivers. Successful technology companies never reveal how they shrewdly generate and commercialize knowledge. Instead, they use high-minded language to describe what they do, using words such as "open," "inclusive," "connected," "sharing" and "diverse." Their lobbyists say Canadians will get even more of these benevolent outcomes if we simply "modernize" all trade agreements, including NAFTA. In practice, companies commercialize knowledge not through open borders but through restrictions supported by the legal system. The way you create markets and value in the new global economy is by generating (owning) IP and data, and restricting everyone else from using it unless they pay you. Stronger and longer IP protections and mandated harmonization systems extend the right Canada|Liquid Chalk of existing IP owners to make more money.

For the original version including any supplementary images or video, visit https://www.theglobeandmail.com/report-on-business/rob-commentary/why-we-should-raise-a-glass-to-canadas-tpp-team/article37165732/

Every Single Secret We Provide About Basketball Is One You Need To Know

Basketball has been universally loved by the young and old for many years. But, not everyone has a thorough understanding of what it takes to truly play the sport well. The following article will help anyone understand basketball better and become an improved player. Your balance is an important aspect to consider when you are shooting. Everyone has seen professional basketball players make a shot from 20 feet away as they are falling. They are going with the flow when this occurs. By focusing on balance in your shot, you will develop the consistency needed to be a great scorer. Get educated on the way to properly pass the ball on a bounce. Bounce passes need to be at waist level when received. Bounce it 3/4 of the distance to the receiver. There can be other factors in play to keep in mind, as well. Making a free throw takes mental concentration as well as physical prowess. You must be mentally strong to be a consistent free throw shooter. Relax and focus on your shot, and you can make it. A great way to stay prepared at all times is to always face the ball. You have to be aware of what is going on with the ball at all times. Make sure you also have the court in your line of vision as well, so you know when and where you can drive in for the score. Focus on your footwork and your core strength in your workouts. When your core is strengthened, you will have more balance and be able to move more swiftly. Your hip, buttocks, back and abdomen muscles need to be worked on. Jumping rope is great for improving your footwork and also helping you to gain speed. If you have someone who can tape your game, you can view the recording to see how well you performed on the court. This way, you have the opportunity to go through your play at a later time and see your mistakes. Be honest when assessing, but avoid being overly critical. You can learn a lot by watching how you play and what you need to concentrate practicing on. To get better at shooting free throws, make sure to keep a consistent pre-shot routine. That could include a set number of dribbles, knee-bends or some other type of movement. Having a consistent routine is ideal, and that helps train your body to know how to be in the proper position every time you shoot the free throw. If you don't want someone to steal the ball, dribble hard. This causes the ball to return to your hand more quickly, so the offense has less time to try to get it away from you. When someone is right on top of you, pass the ball instead of dribbling. Increase your weak hand's capabilities by using it for everything you normally would not. You'll find it becomes more controllable. This will begin to spill over into your basketball game as well. Bend the knees when you dribble a basketball. If you are standing straight, you will have a harder time controlling the ball and your opponent will be able to steal it more easily. You only need to bend your knees slightly to improve your control of the basketball. To improve 3 point shooting, practice from NBA distance, at least. All the other lines are closer. By practicing at the NBA line, you will be used to getting a look a little further than what most defenses will cover. People from all backgrounds love basketball. To truly enjoy the game, a player must possess both skill and knowledge. Keep what you've read here in mind at all times and you can do great things when you play basketball.

[thepurplebouquetfest-blog]

Guy Very likely To become Gaming Abusers.

This lighter-weight garment is much better suited to warm climate firing than a few of the various other coats within this test, although you could possibly equally as conveniently team it up along with your wintertime coatings to keep on using everything all year. One such examination app, cultivated by Raytheon, permits a soldier to take a picture with the smartphone's cam, at that point mark that up with circles as well as arrows before sending it back to foundation, or dispersing this to various other troops in the business. That being actually claimed, I certainly read Some Young boys in one resting and this's one of my favored manuals I have actually reviewed that have mentioned these problems. West Yorkshire cops said the pet that attacked Ellam had actually been taken hold of by police adhering to a check out by a canine warden in June, as well as had been actually come back to its manager on 8 August after that was actually determined that it was actually not a disallowed breed. For as much as guys whine regarding all the negative spunk girls perform when this relates to approaching them or even obtaining with them, they do not identify that when this is actually taking place to them. Hazardous Boys is actually a darkened, convincing, page-turner, with good writing, flawed personalities, intricate relationships and also spritiual abyss. However whatever changes when Boy 21 properties in town, intimidating to plunge down Finley's period and also his wall of silence that hides all form of family members skeletons and background. By the end of reading Young boy Fulfills Woman by Meg Cabot I felt like I should stand up for I rely on. http://www.choisissanteblog.fr overarching trouble is that people perform not provide a fuck concerning men as a training class. A ton of people I recognize state that a ton of these damaging results on guys arised from bias versus ladies (i.e. along with penitentiary sentances, females are considered certainly not having their own company as much as men thus as a result are held much less in charge of their actions) nonetheless to me, you ought to check out that is actually being actually hurt to calculate that possesses opportunity as well as when it comes to a ton of these instances, men are the ones being injured, as well as the fashions that induce this are actually pointless to this fact. I carry out desire the globe structure was actually increased after, yet it makes good sense on why the writer failed to devote as a lot time on that (Isaak is in the darker as high as the remainder of us, our team're experiencing this trip with him). Yet that wasn't the only headlines in the file, which located that England trumps 4 various other European countries when that pertains to sexting rates, as nearly half of our teen women have sent out sexual photos. As an alternative, he could possess connected to companion firms, where rent boys spend a charge to be detailed on the lineup. While Omega Guys performs have its own portion from fistfights, its own very most exciting action is the developing battle of ideological backgrounds. Ritter, Lawrence S. Leagues Apart: The Male and Times from the Negro Baseball Leagues." Morrow Junior Works, 1995. This book deals with a great deal of challenging concerns as well as you ought to be prepped to shield your factors for using this book if you want to utilize this in a classro Funds Young boy is a manual that manages male hooking, the challenging life of immigrants, as well as partnerships in between children and also their moms and dads. As an alternative, I would certainly encourage offering Coffee Child through Austin Song a read for its beneficial trans representation by a very own vocals author. When Crew Core set out to create a Super Meat Young boy version for touchscreen smart phones, creators Tommy Refenes and also Edmund McMillen promised they wouldn't simply slap a digital gamepad on the many things and also carry out some half-assed port of their downloadable hit for Personal Computer and also Xbox 360. On the other hand the men have learnt how to work together as well as end up being like a well oiled device. Meggie wants to find the captivated world she has only run into via the web pages from a book as well as journeys along with Farid in to the tale. I was among some which were certainly not instantly captivated along with Blake in his look in US, and because of this I possessed some bookings entering Good Young boy. As guide is actually recounted by boy in 1st individual, some of the thoughts and also explanations appear really abnormal for his grow older. Through lifestyle and the field of biology, guys are pressed right into minimal modes from sexual and inflammation phrase. As a reading knowledge there is someth Boy was the little girl from the Rodent Catcher. The popular Dutch name Lieke is just one of those diminutives, like Lena, that can be quick for a stable of names including Angelique finishing in its noise - which, by the way, is actually the two-syllable LEE-ka. Initially, the circulation of the journal permitted the young boys to cover the copies themselves; then they, with 2 various other kids, would bring as huge bundles as they could raise, put all of them behind time during the night on the frontal system of the streetcars, and have all of them to the post-office. This was actually fast lane, surprisingly effectively created, however it was without the Dangerous Girls zest. Final, some more history regarding Breel was he was actually an actually salty kid and also he was definitely inflexible from his very own little planet considering that he really did not allow many people assist or receive in his lifestyle which made his anxiety dangerously discourageding. This is merely right near the end where he is actually explaining exactly how Cadbury's World (Which is actually much like Charlie's Chocolate Factory incidentally!) made use of to deliver the children of his boarding institution example dark chocolate to taste and exactly how this result in him creating Charlie and also his adventures. However there are actually signs that an attempt at ornament is right now emerging, as well as the trick for cosmetics companies is actually to find a technique through the dilemma of producing 'non-girly' makeup genuine men. He is great in this story about a band being entraped in a club along with a team from skinheads after they witness a loathsome murder. A 29-year-old girl off Halstead was jailed at the performance for permitting a canine to be precariously out of control wounding a person, cops claimed. Women obtain violated just due to the fact that men rape all of them( Of course, females could receive assaulted through other women). Johnny is actually known as a Guevedoce", which practically indicates, penis at twelve ". As well as the reason he's phoned that is because, like 1 in 90 of the kids in the area, he to begin with started to expand a penis when he was actually looking at the age of puberty. Some ridiculous uncertainties occur when the robotic by mistake obtains turned off and also the kid does not recognize what to do, and also the other way around. The young boy robotically folded the programme, switched this long edge up and also thought about whether a programme of the smaller sized measurements, less complicated to take care of, with an attractive cover and some reading-matter, will certainly not be profitable. Professor Alan Smithers, supervisor from the Facility for Education and learning and also Job Investigation at the University from Buckingham, pointed out women started institution with a little better spoken skill-sets, while boys began along with a somewhat better aptitude for mathematics. In the initial section from the book, Young boy hops coming from First individual to 2nd individual to illustrate her property life then in the 1st section from the Second section from guide, Bird additionally jumps standpoint (1st person to Third person) for a handful of pages to illustrate herself. Presently, Phillip is actually hardly devoting whenever with JJ.Danny apparently presumes that girls can not play football till everything acquires too much for Jadyn and also she eventually determines to action in and also present Danny exactly how also ladies can easily participate in football.Maybe also a lot better in comparison to skips her best friend a lot. There is always protection to modify, yet I have actually fulfilled many men that are completely available to adjustments that may be happening," she pointed out.

[synergygolfsolutions]

Attain Golf Enlightenment: Meet The Real Guru Of Golf

Anyone who has seen "Caddyshack" knows Bill Murray's character, Carl Spackler, is promised total consciousness on his deathbed. Turns out the Dalai Lama isn't a golfer, but another highly influential spiritual leader is. Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev's YouTube videos, which mostly take the form of five-minute answers to deep questions, have eclipsed 100 million views. His is a globetrotting schedule—conducting large-scale meditation workshops, building schools, battling deforestation, lecturing for assemblies like the United Nations and World Economic Forum—but the self-described "yogi, mystic and visionary" got in 29 rounds last year. "When the entire population of the world attains enlightenment, I'll retire and play golf every day," he says, and it's oddly hypnotic the way his white beard bounces as he laughs. He has to tie it so it doesn't interfere with his swing. He almost always brings his clubs on the road, eschews carts, and prefers parkland courses to links. A dean at the University of Cambridge was incredulous when she heard he partook in such a bourgeoisie activity. "I love games, and I'll play any," Sadhguru told her. "Games are a way of training ourselves to be heavily involved without being serious." A way of being, Sadhguru believes, that can assist in learning how to focus inward. He likes to quote Swami Vivekananda, the yogi pioneer who came to the United States in 1893, who said, "Kicking a football will take you closer to the Divine than any amount of prayer." If Swami had played golf, surely he would've agreed the mind similarly can't wander. To train for his annual summer trek in the Himalayas of Tibet, Sadhguru, who turned 60 on Sept. 3, walks 36 holes a day for several days on a course at an elevation of 6,200 feet in his native India. "By day two or three my game becomes really good," he says. "The best round I ever shot was three over par. Most of the time I'm between six and 18." Not bad considering he took up the game seriously just a few years ago—a friend's suggestion after Sadhguru injured his knee playing soccer with children. "He's a good player, and strong," says five-time major champion Yani Tseng, who first attended one of Sadhguru's workshops in Manhattan, then later spent one-on-one time with the man at the meditation center he built in Tennessee. Why Tennessee? Besides natural beauty, its central location is within a day's drive for most of the U.S. population. When you're trying to change the world, you've got to be efficient. Tseng's initial motivation for visiting Sadhguru was to regain the mental clarity she enjoyed when she was the No. 1 female golfer in the world. "I had all these specific questions, but once I was around him those questions started to feel unimportant. He brings such a sense of peace. I forgot about golf and started thinking more about enjoying life, being grateful for my family and friends. Of course, having a quiet mind also helps in golf."

If Tiger Woods would accept his help, Sadhguru believes he could get him going in the right direction, too. Which, if you commit to reading on, is what this is all about. Prepping the mind to hit fewer shots can't be separated from the larger task of total self-re-examination. "Today, the most important work on the planet is to raise human consciousness," Sadhguru says—and writes. (His dozen books he has simply dictated into a recording device, then made minimal edits to the transcripts—a working method that is unbelievable until you hear him speak for hours without a single stammer or notecard.) "For the first time, we have the necessary capability, technology and resources to solve almost every human problem—fundamental problems like malnutrition, sickness, illiteracy—on this planet; never before was this possible. The only thing that is missing is human consciousness. ... All it takes is to make human beings willing." Willing, that is, to be truly inclusive and compassionate. To see themselves as part of a larger energy that is dispersed among all forms of life.

DIVISIVE FIGURES Whoa. Let's pause here. From Tony Robbins to Eckhart Tolle, modern gurus—which let's define as charismatic figures who make their life telling others how to live—tend to engender worship or extreme skepticism. Internet trolls accuse Sadhguru of hypocrisy in little ways, and others battle on intellectual turf, arguing his transposing of ancient Eastern philosophy into the Western world takes unforgivable shortcuts. "My hypothesis is that Jaggi Vasudev's act of interspersing his religious sermon with science is a conscious attempt to appeal to the urbane middle class," writes someone whose screen name is "tArkika."

POWERFUL IN PERSON But far more credit the man for changing their lives for the better. In 2016, Sadhguru initiated 35,000 Americans into yoga. In India, certain nights of Hindu celebrations with Sadhguru have drawn half a million people. In 2017, the Indian government awarded him its highest annual civilian honor, the Padma Vibhushan. He has played six-hour rounds because of grounds-crew workers and other followers flocking the fairway. "By the time the round is over, I've blessed 150 to 200 people," he says. A guru's delivery is equally if not more important than his message, so I hesitate to distill in an article that which was conveyed over 20 hours of lecture (accompanied by group chanting and an absolutely terrific string band). So all I'll say is, I attended Sadhguru's three-day course on "Inner Engineering" at the Sheraton Carlsbad Resort & Spa. Early registration of $2,000 covered room and vegetarian board, with the rest supporting the nonprofit Isha Foundation, which Sadhguru founded in 1992. If you're a golfer, who among us hasn't wondered if a little Zen training might improve our putting? So it was with this mixture of curiosity and selfish motivation that I laid down my mat and prepared to be transformed. There were 140 participants, including those who'd flown from South America, the Caribbean, even India, to spend this special intimate session with Sadhguru. A curious number of attendees were in medicine; doctors and practitioners looking for knowledge to complement (or replace) what they'd learned of the human system in traditional education. The rest of the attendees professed old-fashioned, run-of-the-mill existential crises—sometimes I wake up in the morning and just think, What's the point?—and were seeking greater meaning. I wasn't the only golfer. Old and young, fit and fat, stylish and frumpy—overall, about the most diverse group ever gathered in a tapestried conference room. Cross-legged and mic'd on the stage, magnificently holy in his colored robes although he endorses no religion (his teachings have the most parallels with Buddhism), Sadhguru paused if a person left to go to the bathroom, so critical was each word of this condensed course. We were afforded comfort breaks every two hours, though Sadhguru mischievously hinted pride about his superior capacity. Such control over the body's plumbing might one day also be ours, if we followed the practices with discipline. Note-taking was strictly discouraged. "We are not here to make scripture," Sadhguru joked, and we laughed. "Leave behind what you think you know and please just give me your full attention these next few days. That is all I ask." What does enlightenment feel like? ‘Take your greatest experience in life ever, and make that your baseline.’

THE MEANING OF LIFE Because I am not your guru, where Sadhguru weaves nuance I can only offer brevity. What follows are the crib notes on the meaning of life, before I get to the part about which I'm qualified to comment—teeing it up with Sadhguru the day after the retreat. The course's title "Inner Engineering" comes from the premise that in our exterior world, humans trust only things that work. We board elevators and trains not out of faith, but because we understand (or at least someone does) how they operate. However, for our interior world, we rely on things that are wishy-washy. Religions, philosophies, concepts like love—these work for some people some of the time, but generally we all pass through life with fluctuating discontent and uncertainty. But through close examination of the human system, a marrying of Eastern and Western knowledge to grasp "the nuts and bolts" of how life is, we may learn to run the "human machine" with a similar pleasurable confidence to how we turn on our phones or fly helicopters. (Sadhguru loves to fly helicopters.) What the following examples might seem to lack in cohesion, they make up for in accessibility. Seas rise with the full moon and our bodies are 60-percent water. To think our energy levels are independent of nature's cycles is ludicrous. The human jaw and digestive tract closely resemble a structure common to herbivores, and it's a diet of far too much meat—like bad gasoline—that's largely responsible for our lethargy and need to sleep seven to nine hours a day. Cared for properly, Sadhguru believes the human body can live up to 160 years. As a father of three children under age 3, the notion of functioning better off less sleep perked my ears. Key for dawn tee times.

At the cellular level, it's evident the fundamental nature of life is a desire to expand. Grass and flowers grow, squirrels and bears grow, each wanting to become a full-fledged grass blade, flower, squirrel and bear. At the essence of sexuality, is this desire to join oneself with another, to expand, and as a consequence, proliferate. The unique problem (or blessing) of humans is consciousness, and so we wrestle with what it means to be a full-fledged human being. Most of us have our basic needs of survival met, so it's almost out of something like boredom that we start our little personal psychodramas: Should I be a doctor, a lawyer, live alone in a cabin in the woods? Why doesn't that person like me; maybe a new set of irons will make me happy? When we consider that each of us is but a speck on a planet that is a speck in a solar system that is but a speck in the cosmos—a bacterial microbe crawling on your face occupies an infinitely larger relative plot of real estate—human concerns can become quite funny. Of course, this perspective is hard to maintain in the whirl of daily life. The answer, says Sadhguru, is to expand one's consciousness. What does that even mean, Carl Spackler? To allow your mind to exist beyond the boundary of your cranium. To join the elemental universe of which it is truly part. Get here, and it will feel second-nature "to look out at the world and feel limitless responsibility," even though your physical ability to do anything about its problems is limited. A notion with which I can almost connect, but it's hard when my knee ligaments are about to snap from sitting on the floor in extended Baddha Konasana.

CHASING ENLIGHTENMENT Same as the body is an accumulation of everything you eat, the mind is the sum of everything perceived through the five senses—the books you've read, the music you've heard, the places you've seen, the people you've known, on down the line. Though the DNA that shapes your nose remembers your great-grandmother, our minds and bodies essentially become the product of what we think and do. "Mindfulness" has been a buzz word of late, but Sadhguru prefers "meditativeness." He disparages modern yoga studios that focus on physical contortions and sweating while ignoring—or even worse, misguiding—the inner dimension. During times that survival is threatened, a gun is pointed at us or we flee a burning building, people often report an "out-of-body experience" where their mind was clear and they acted decisively, almost without thinking. How, one might imagine, a squirrel or bear is much of the time. But when you've got a coffee and a breakfast sandwich going, plopped in an office chair weighing what to say in the morning budget meeting, it's very much an "in-body experience." To foster this right detachment—or the kind of freeness that could lead to playing lights-out golf—Sadhguru says one might consider a traffic jam. You can feel angry and anxious stuck in one, but viewed from an airplane window, the snaking, glowing curves of tail lights become abstract and almost aesthetically pleasing. A grander perception that we all could seek more regularly. To rise there, to escape the confines of the self, the answer is meditation. Which initially can be very difficult. To think no thoughts and feel yourself exist, even if for just a moment, 12 inches outside your forehead—let alone a mile up in the sky—can take decades of practice. Though maybe just minutes. However long, don't wait until the final throes of life to "see a bright light at the end of the tunnel." The actionable takeaway of our retreat was a highly specific 21-minute routine of breathing and meditation called Shambhavi Kriya that should be done on an empty stomach. Eyes are meant to be closed, but how couldn't I peek at the four or five individuals who convulsed and cried with ecstasy? What does enlightenment feel like? Sadhguru says: "Take your greatest experience in life ever, and make that your baseline."

BACK TO REALITY Lunch was awkward. What kind of chit-chat to make with a sober table full of strangers after dipping our toes in the primordial nothingness? Mmm, is that chopped kale in this hummus? Delicious. So as not to incite envy, I withheld the fact I was later playing golf with our leader. Some remarks of others: "It's amazing how engaged he is giving what must be the same talk over and over." "If you had the ability to make the world a better place, you'd be tireless, too." "I find him much more pragmatic than Deepak Chopra."

BIG HITTER, THE GURU The Crossings at Carlsbad is a municipal course but defies the term with its flawless conditioning, $110 peak green fee, gleaming modern clubhouse and cart-mandatory routing. After three days at the altar, it was startling to see Sadhguru's robes replaced by slacks and designer shades. There wasn't time to hit the range, so Sadhguru warmed up by corkscrewing his arms and fingers forward and back in the loudest, most tendon-popping, mesmerizing stretch I've ever witnessed. The foursome ahead were clearly beginners, so I figured I'd go deep right away. "Sadhguru, what is the solution to slow play?" I said with solemnity, as if I had ascended a high peak to ask it. Without missing a beat, he grinned, "Better accuracy." He'd negotiated 14 strokes off me, remarking at breakfast that the key to golf was getting your opponent to boast about his game beforehand. Sadhguru has never taken a lesson but believes his "keen sense of geometry" garnered through yoga enables his steady play. Sure enough, he had me 2 down through four. "I am beating the pro," he said in gleeful disregard of the definition of amateur status. "Anybody can play decent golf like me," Sadhguru says, "but people trip on their own minds. They need to create a little distance between what they think and what they do." As for the seemingly hopelessly uncoordinated, Sadhguru says there are specific yogic practices for that. "In six to eight weeks everything they do will feel like magic." Sadhguru confided he thought the weekend's workshop had been successful, despite an audience he thought was reserved. I'd never encountered a more forthcoming group of strangers, as far as personal confessions and group dancing, which I suppose shows what a stiff I am. One way Sadhguru's organization measures success is through dogged survey work. Of all people who've attended Isha's workshops in the past year, 70 percent are still active with the prescribed meditative practices. Of the past three years, 40 percent. At The Crossings, you drive the entire length of the 12th hole from green to tee before you play it, an unusual re-routing to placate the California Coastal Commission and Army Corps of Engineers. The developers also faced challenges when nests of the endangered black-tailed gnatcatcher were discovered. Given his environmental initiatives, I probed Sadhguru's perspective on golf-haters during our extended cart ride. "Some people are always trying to think of everything in terms of utility. Life is not utility. If there's a water shortage, then, yes, let's water the greens and not the fairways. The problem is, we have set up the wrong aspirations. If everybody lived like Americans do, we'd need four planets. So now every small thing looks like an excess." Having fielded existential questions all weekend, Sadhguru was clearly more excited to talk trash. When I lost a ball off an errant drive, he was thrilled. "I cannot play any game halfheartedly, only intentionally," he winked. To coax him into performing his unique stretch on video, I offered him a floating mulligan, which he accepted and promptly redeemed. Riding up the 18th at sunset, it felt more like a round with a fun uncle, not a dignitary. Though as he sank a putt for a gritty net par to finish our match square, I remembered one thing Sadhguru said to me during the back nine, response to some inane question I'd cobbled about the cosmos. "The purpose of life is to explore one's own life to its fullest, to explore all dimensions. Forget the galaxies." Golfers everywhere can take comfort in the fact that an enlightened individual is concerned with the same 4¼-inch black hole.

EPILOGUE Only one week after the retreat, back in the throes of early-morning commuting, endless diaper changes and all the rest, I fell off the path by neglecting my Shambhavi Kriya practices. Barricading 21 quiet minutes daily felt impossible, even if it wasn't. The reality of my failure and lack of spiritual discipline set in at Chuck E. Cheese on a Saturday for a child's birthday party. Between the warm soda, greasy pizza, dirty carpets and cacophony of arcade games stoking frenzied desire, it occurred to me this was the worst collection of all possible inputs. If we truly are an accumulation of all perceived through the senses, I was doomed. But then I remembered a line from Sadhguru I hadn't written down. A trumping wisdom for raising consciousness: "No matter what you do, do it willingly." So I toured my daughter around to every stupid game and proceeded to have way more fun than if I'd played golf.

[elmiragc]

Attain Golf Enlightenment: Meet The Real Guru Of Golf

Anyone who has seen "Caddyshack" knows Bill Murray's character, Carl Spackler, is promised total consciousness on his deathbed. Turns out the Dalai Lama isn't a golfer, but another highly influential spiritual leader is. Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev's YouTube videos, which mostly take the form of five-minute answers to deep questions, have eclipsed 100 million views. His is a globetrotting schedule—conducting large-scale meditation workshops, building schools, battling deforestation, lecturing for assemblies like the United Nations and World Economic Forum—but the self-described "yogi, mystic and visionary" got in 29 rounds last year. "When the entire population of the world attains enlightenment, I'll retire and play golf every day," he says, and it's oddly hypnotic the way his white beard bounces as he laughs. He has to tie it so it doesn't interfere with his swing. He almost always brings his clubs on the road, eschews carts, and prefers parkland courses to links. A dean at the University of Cambridge was incredulous when she heard he partook in such a bourgeoisie activity. "I love games, and I'll play any," Sadhguru told her. "Games are a way of training ourselves to be heavily involved without being serious." A way of being, Sadhguru believes, that can assist in learning how to focus inward. He likes to quote Swami Vivekananda, the yogi pioneer who came to the United States in 1893, who said, "Kicking a football will take you closer to the Divine than any amount of prayer." If Swami had played golf, surely he would've agreed the mind similarly can't wander. To train for his annual summer trek in the Himalayas of Tibet, Sadhguru, who turned 60 on Sept. 3, walks 36 holes a day for several days on a course at an elevation of 6,200 feet in his native India. "By day two or three my game becomes really good," he says. "The best round I ever shot was three over par. Most of the time I'm between six and 18." Not bad considering he took up the game seriously just a few years ago—a friend's suggestion after Sadhguru injured his knee playing soccer with children. "He's a good player, and strong," says five-time major champion Yani Tseng, who first attended one of Sadhguru's workshops in Manhattan, then later spent one-on-one time with the man at the meditation center he built in Tennessee. Why Tennessee? Besides natural beauty, its central location is within a day's drive for most of the U.S. population. When you're trying to change the world, you've got to be efficient. Tseng's initial motivation for visiting Sadhguru was to regain the mental clarity she enjoyed when she was the No. 1 female golfer in the world. "I had all these specific questions, but once I was around him those questions started to feel unimportant. He brings such a sense of peace. I forgot about golf and started thinking more about enjoying life, being grateful for my family and friends. Of course, having a quiet mind also helps in golf."

If Tiger Woods would accept his help, Sadhguru believes he could get him going in the right direction, too. Which, if you commit to reading on, is what this is all about. Prepping the mind to hit fewer shots can't be separated from the larger task of total self-re-examination. "Today, the most important work on the planet is to raise human consciousness," Sadhguru says—and writes. (His dozen books he has simply dictated into a recording device, then made minimal edits to the transcripts—a working method that is unbelievable until you hear him speak for hours without a single stammer or notecard.) "For the first time, we have the necessary capability, technology and resources to solve almost every human problem—fundamental problems like malnutrition, sickness, illiteracy—on this planet; never before was this possible. The only thing that is missing is human consciousness. ... All it takes is to make human beings willing." Willing, that is, to be truly inclusive and compassionate. To see themselves as part of a larger energy that is dispersed among all forms of life.

DIVISIVE FIGURES Whoa. Let's pause here. From Tony Robbins to Eckhart Tolle, modern gurus—which let's define as charismatic figures who make their life telling others how to live—tend to engender worship or extreme skepticism. Internet trolls accuse Sadhguru of hypocrisy in little ways, and others battle on intellectual turf, arguing his transposing of ancient Eastern philosophy into the Western world takes unforgivable shortcuts. "My hypothesis is that Jaggi Vasudev's act of interspersing his religious sermon with science is a conscious attempt to appeal to the urbane middle class," writes someone whose screen name is "tArkika."

POWERFUL IN PERSON But far more credit the man for changing their lives for the better. In 2016, Sadhguru initiated 35,000 Americans into yoga. In India, certain nights of Hindu celebrations with Sadhguru have drawn half a million people. In 2017, the Indian government awarded him its highest annual civilian honor, the Padma Vibhushan. He has played six-hour rounds because of grounds-crew workers and other followers flocking the fairway. "By the time the round is over, I've blessed 150 to 200 people," he says. A guru's delivery is equally if not more important than his message, so I hesitate to distill in an article that which was conveyed over 20 hours of lecture (accompanied by group chanting and an absolutely terrific string band). So all I'll say is, I attended Sadhguru's three-day course on "Inner Engineering" at the Sheraton Carlsbad Resort & Spa. Early registration of $2,000 covered room and vegetarian board, with the rest supporting the nonprofit Isha Foundation, which Sadhguru founded in 1992. If you're a golfer, who among us hasn't wondered if a little Zen training might improve our putting? So it was with this mixture of curiosity and selfish motivation that I laid down my mat and prepared to be transformed. There were 140 participants, including those who'd flown from South America, the Caribbean, even India, to spend this special intimate session with Sadhguru. A curious number of attendees were in medicine; doctors and practitioners looking for knowledge to complement (or replace) what they'd learned of the human system in traditional education. The rest of the attendees professed old-fashioned, run-of-the-mill existential crises—sometimes I wake up in the morning and just think, What's the point?—and were seeking greater meaning. I wasn't the only golfer. Old and young, fit and fat, stylish and frumpy—overall, about the most diverse group ever gathered in a tapestried conference room. Cross-legged and mic'd on the stage, magnificently holy in his colored robes although he endorses no religion (his teachings have the most parallels with Buddhism), Sadhguru paused if a person left to go to the bathroom, so critical was each word of this condensed course. We were afforded comfort breaks every two hours, though Sadhguru mischievously hinted pride about his superior capacity. Such control over the body's plumbing might one day also be ours, if we followed the practices with discipline. Note-taking was strictly discouraged. "We are not here to make scripture," Sadhguru joked, and we laughed. "Leave behind what you think you know and please just give me your full attention these next few days. That is all I ask." What does enlightenment feel like? ‘Take your greatest experience in life ever, and make that your baseline.’

THE MEANING OF LIFE Because I am not your guru, where Sadhguru weaves nuance I can only offer brevity. What follows are the crib notes on the meaning of life, before I get to the part about which I'm qualified to comment—teeing it up with Sadhguru the day after the retreat. The course's title "Inner Engineering" comes from the premise that in our exterior world, humans trust only things that work. We board elevators and trains not out of faith, but because we understand (or at least someone does) how they operate. However, for our interior world, we rely on things that are wishy-washy. Religions, philosophies, concepts like love—these work for some people some of the time, but generally we all pass through life with fluctuating discontent and uncertainty. But through close examination of the human system, a marrying of Eastern and Western knowledge to grasp "the nuts and bolts" of how life is, we may learn to run the "human machine" with a similar pleasurable confidence to how we turn on our phones or fly helicopters. (Sadhguru loves to fly helicopters.) What the following examples might seem to lack in cohesion, they make up for in accessibility. Seas rise with the full moon and our bodies are 60-percent water. To think our energy levels are independent of nature's cycles is ludicrous. The human jaw and digestive tract closely resemble a structure common to herbivores, and it's a diet of far too much meat—like bad gasoline—that's largely responsible for our lethargy and need to sleep seven to nine hours a day. Cared for properly, Sadhguru believes the human body can live up to 160 years. As a father of three children under age 3, the notion of functioning better off less sleep perked my ears. Key for dawn tee times.

At the cellular level, it's evident the fundamental nature of life is a desire to expand. Grass and flowers grow, squirrels and bears grow, each wanting to become a full-fledged grass blade, flower, squirrel and bear. At the essence of sexuality, is this desire to join oneself with another, to expand, and as a consequence, proliferate. The unique problem (or blessing) of humans is consciousness, and so we wrestle with what it means to be a full-fledged human being. Most of us have our basic needs of survival met, so it's almost out of something like boredom that we start our little personal psychodramas: Should I be a doctor, a lawyer, live alone in a cabin in the woods? Why doesn't that person like me; maybe a new set of irons will make me happy? When we consider that each of us is but a speck on a planet that is a speck in a solar system that is but a speck in the cosmos—a bacterial microbe crawling on your face occupies an infinitely larger relative plot of real estate—human concerns can become quite funny. Of course, this perspective is hard to maintain in the whirl of daily life. The answer, says Sadhguru, is to expand one's consciousness. What does that even mean, Carl Spackler? To allow your mind to exist beyond the boundary of your cranium. To join the elemental universe of which it is truly part. Get here, and it will feel second-nature "to look out at the world and feel limitless responsibility," even though your physical ability to do anything about its problems is limited. A notion with which I can almost connect, but it's hard when my knee ligaments are about to snap from sitting on the floor in extended Baddha Konasana.

CHASING ENLIGHTENMENT Same as the body is an accumulation of everything you eat, the mind is the sum of everything perceived through the five senses—the books you've read, the music you've heard, the places you've seen, the people you've known, on down the line. Though the DNA that shapes your nose remembers your great-grandmother, our minds and bodies essentially become the product of what we think and do. "Mindfulness" has been a buzz word of late, but Sadhguru prefers "meditativeness." He disparages modern yoga studios that focus on physical contortions and sweating while ignoring—or even worse, misguiding—the inner dimension. During times that survival is threatened, a gun is pointed at us or we flee a burning building, people often report an "out-of-body experience" where their mind was clear and they acted decisively, almost without thinking. How, one might imagine, a squirrel or bear is much of the time. But when you've got a coffee and a breakfast sandwich going, plopped in an office chair weighing what to say in the morning budget meeting, it's very much an "in-body experience." To foster this right detachment—or the kind of freeness that could lead to playing lights-out golf—Sadhguru says one might consider a traffic jam. You can feel angry and anxious stuck in one, but viewed from an airplane window, the snaking, glowing curves of tail lights become abstract and almost aesthetically pleasing. A grander perception that we all could seek more regularly. To rise there, to escape the confines of the self, the answer is meditation. Which initially can be very difficult. To think no thoughts and feel yourself exist, even if for just a moment, 12 inches outside your forehead—let alone a mile up in the sky—can take decades of practice. Though maybe just minutes. However long, don't wait until the final throes of life to "see a bright light at the end of the tunnel." The actionable takeaway of our retreat was a highly specific 21-minute routine of breathing and meditation called Shambhavi Kriya that should be done on an empty stomach. Eyes are meant to be closed, but how couldn't I peek at the four or five individuals who convulsed and cried with ecstasy? What does enlightenment feel like? Sadhguru says: "Take your greatest experience in life ever, and make that your baseline."

BACK TO REALITY Lunch was awkward. What kind of chit-chat to make with a sober table full of strangers after dipping our toes in the primordial nothingness? Mmm, is that chopped kale in this hummus? Delicious. So as not to incite envy, I withheld the fact I was later playing golf with our leader. Some remarks of others: "It's amazing how engaged he is giving what must be the same talk over and over." "If you had the ability to make the world a better place, you'd be tireless, too." "I find him much more pragmatic than Deepak Chopra."

BIG HITTER, THE GURU The Crossings at Carlsbad is a municipal course but defies the term with its flawless conditioning, $110 peak green fee, gleaming modern clubhouse and cart-mandatory routing. After three days at the altar, it was startling to see Sadhguru's robes replaced by slacks and designer shades. There wasn't time to hit the range, so Sadhguru warmed up by corkscrewing his arms and fingers forward and back in the loudest, most tendon-popping, mesmerizing stretch I've ever witnessed. The foursome ahead were clearly beginners, so I figured I'd go deep right away. "Sadhguru, what is the solution to slow play?" I said with solemnity, as if I had ascended a high peak to ask it. Without missing a beat, he grinned, "Better accuracy." He'd negotiated 14 strokes off me, remarking at breakfast that the key to golf was getting your opponent to boast about his game beforehand. Sadhguru has never taken a lesson but believes his "keen sense of geometry" garnered through yoga enables his steady play. Sure enough, he had me 2 down through four. "I am beating the pro," he said in gleeful disregard of the definition of amateur status. "Anybody can play decent golf like me," Sadhguru says, "but people trip on their own minds. They need to create a little distance between what they think and what they do." As for the seemingly hopelessly uncoordinated, Sadhguru says there are specific yogic practices for that. "In six to eight weeks everything they do will feel like magic." Sadhguru confided he thought the weekend's workshop had been successful, despite an audience he thought was reserved. I'd never encountered a more forthcoming group of strangers, as far as personal confessions and group dancing, which I suppose shows what a stiff I am. One way Sadhguru's organization measures success is through dogged survey work. Of all people who've attended Isha's workshops in the past year, 70 percent are still active with the prescribed meditative practices. Of the past three years, 40 percent. At The Crossings, you drive the entire length of the 12th hole from green to tee before you play it, an unusual re-routing to placate the California Coastal Commission and Army Corps of Engineers. The developers also faced challenges when nests of the endangered black-tailed gnatcatcher were discovered. Given his environmental initiatives, I probed Sadhguru's perspective on golf-haters during our extended cart ride. "Some people are always trying to think of everything in terms of utility. Life is not utility. If there's a water shortage, then, yes, let's water the greens and not the fairways. The problem is, we have set up the wrong aspirations. If everybody lived like Americans do, we'd need four planets. So now every small thing looks like an excess." Having fielded existential questions all weekend, Sadhguru was clearly more excited to talk trash. When I lost a ball off an errant drive, he was thrilled. "I cannot play any game halfheartedly, only intentionally," he winked. To coax him into performing his unique stretch on video, I offered him a floating mulligan, which he accepted and promptly redeemed. Riding up the 18th at sunset, it felt more like a round with a fun uncle, not a dignitary. Though as he sank a putt for a gritty net par to finish our match square, I remembered one thing Sadhguru said to me during the back nine, response to some inane question I'd cobbled about the cosmos. "The purpose of life is to explore one's own life to its fullest, to explore all dimensions. Forget the galaxies." Golfers everywhere can take comfort in the fact that an enlightened individual is concerned with the same 4¼-inch black hole.

EPILOGUE Only one week after the retreat, back in the throes of early-morning commuting, endless diaper changes and all the rest, I fell off the path by neglecting my Shambhavi Kriya practices. Barricading 21 quiet minutes daily felt impossible, even if it wasn't. The reality of my failure and lack of spiritual discipline set in at Chuck E. Cheese on a Saturday for a child's birthday party. Between the warm soda, greasy pizza, dirty carpets and cacophony of arcade games stoking frenzied desire, it occurred to me this was the worst collection of all possible inputs. If we truly are an accumulation of all perceived through the senses, I was doomed. But then I remembered a line from Sadhguru I hadn't written down. A trumping wisdom for raising consciousness: "No matter what you do, do it willingly." So I toured my daughter around to every stupid game and proceeded to have way more fun than if I'd played golf.

Brought to you by Elmira Golf Club

[lowvillegolfclub]

Attain Golf Enlightenment: Meet The Real Guru Of Golf

Anyone who has seen "Caddyshack" knows Bill Murray's character, Carl Spackler, is promised total consciousness on his deathbed. Turns out the Dalai Lama isn't a golfer, but another highly influential spiritual leader is. Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev's YouTube videos, which mostly take the form of five-minute answers to deep questions, have eclipsed 100 million views. His is a globetrotting schedule—conducting large-scale meditation workshops, building schools, battling deforestation, lecturing for assemblies like the United Nations and World Economic Forum—but the self-described "yogi, mystic and visionary" got in 29 rounds last year. "When the entire population of the world attains enlightenment, I'll retire and play golf every day," he says, and it's oddly hypnotic the way his white beard bounces as he laughs. He has to tie it so it doesn't interfere with his swing. He almost always brings his clubs on the road, eschews carts, and prefers parkland courses to links. A dean at the University of Cambridge was incredulous when she heard he partook in such a bourgeoisie activity. "I love games, and I'll play any," Sadhguru told her. "Games are a way of training ourselves to be heavily involved without being serious." A way of being, Sadhguru believes, that can assist in learning how to focus inward. He likes to quote Swami Vivekananda, the yogi pioneer who came to the United States in 1893, who said, "Kicking a football will take you closer to the Divine than any amount of prayer." If Swami had played golf, surely he would've agreed the mind similarly can't wander. To train for his annual summer trek in the Himalayas of Tibet, Sadhguru, who turned 60 on Sept. 3, walks 36 holes a day for several days on a course at an elevation of 6,200 feet in his native India. "By day two or three my game becomes really good," he says. "The best round I ever shot was three over par. Most of the time I'm between six and 18." Not bad considering he took up the game seriously just a few years ago—a friend's suggestion after Sadhguru injured his knee playing soccer with children. "He's a good player, and strong," says five-time major champion Yani Tseng, who first attended one of Sadhguru's workshops in Manhattan, then later spent one-on-one time with the man at the meditation center he built in Tennessee. Why Tennessee? Besides natural beauty, its central location is within a day's drive for most of the U.S. population. When you're trying to change the world, you've got to be efficient. Tseng's initial motivation for visiting Sadhguru was to regain the mental clarity she enjoyed when she was the No. 1 female golfer in the world. "I had all these specific questions, but once I was around him those questions started to feel unimportant. He brings such a sense of peace. I forgot about golf and started thinking more about enjoying life, being grateful for my family and friends. Of course, having a quiet mind also helps in golf."

If Tiger Woods would accept his help, Sadhguru believes he could get him going in the right direction, too. Which, if you commit to reading on, is what this is all about. Prepping the mind to hit fewer shots can't be separated from the larger task of total self-re-examination. "Today, the most important work on the planet is to raise human consciousness," Sadhguru says—and writes. (His dozen books he has simply dictated into a recording device, then made minimal edits to the transcripts—a working method that is unbelievable until you hear him speak for hours without a single stammer or notecard.) "For the first time, we have the necessary capability, technology and resources to solve almost every human problem—fundamental problems like malnutrition, sickness, illiteracy—on this planet; never before was this possible. The only thing that is missing is human consciousness. ... All it takes is to make human beings willing." Willing, that is, to be truly inclusive and compassionate. To see themselves as part of a larger energy that is dispersed among all forms of life.

DIVISIVE FIGURES Whoa. Let's pause here. From Tony Robbins to Eckhart Tolle, modern gurus—which let's define as charismatic figures who make their life telling others how to live—tend to engender worship or extreme skepticism. Internet trolls accuse Sadhguru of hypocrisy in little ways, and others battle on intellectual turf, arguing his transposing of ancient Eastern philosophy into the Western world takes unforgivable shortcuts. "My hypothesis is that Jaggi Vasudev's act of interspersing his religious sermon with science is a conscious attempt to appeal to the urbane middle class," writes someone whose screen name is "tArkika."

POWERFUL IN PERSON But far more credit the man for changing their lives for the better. In 2016, Sadhguru initiated 35,000 Americans into yoga. In India, certain nights of Hindu celebrations with Sadhguru have drawn half a million people. In 2017, the Indian government awarded him its highest annual civilian honor, the Padma Vibhushan. He has played six-hour rounds because of grounds-crew workers and other followers flocking the fairway. "By the time the round is over, I've blessed 150 to 200 people," he says. A guru's delivery is equally if not more important than his message, so I hesitate to distill in an article that which was conveyed over 20 hours of lecture (accompanied by group chanting and an absolutely terrific string band). So all I'll say is, I attended Sadhguru's three-day course on "Inner Engineering" at the Sheraton Carlsbad Resort & Spa. Early registration of $2,000 covered room and vegetarian board, with the rest supporting the nonprofit Isha Foundation, which Sadhguru founded in 1992. If you're a golfer, who among us hasn't wondered if a little Zen training might improve our putting? So it was with this mixture of curiosity and selfish motivation that I laid down my mat and prepared to be transformed. There were 140 participants, including those who'd flown from South America, the Caribbean, even India, to spend this special intimate session with Sadhguru. A curious number of attendees were in medicine; doctors and practitioners looking for knowledge to complement (or replace) what they'd learned of the human system in traditional education. The rest of the attendees professed old-fashioned, run-of-the-mill existential crises—sometimes I wake up in the morning and just think, What's the point?—and were seeking greater meaning. I wasn't the only golfer. Old and young, fit and fat, stylish and frumpy—overall, about the most diverse group ever gathered in a tapestried conference room. Cross-legged and mic'd on the stage, magnificently holy in his colored robes although he endorses no religion (his teachings have the most parallels with Buddhism), Sadhguru paused if a person left to go to the bathroom, so critical was each word of this condensed course. We were afforded comfort breaks every two hours, though Sadhguru mischievously hinted pride about his superior capacity. Such control over the body's plumbing might one day also be ours, if we followed the practices with discipline. Note-taking was strictly discouraged. "We are not here to make scripture," Sadhguru joked, and we laughed. "Leave behind what you think you know and please just give me your full attention these next few days. That is all I ask." What does enlightenment feel like? ‘Take your greatest experience in life ever, and make that your baseline.’

THE MEANING OF LIFE Because I am not your guru, where Sadhguru weaves nuance I can only offer brevity. What follows are the crib notes on the meaning of life, before I get to the part about which I'm qualified to comment—teeing it up with Sadhguru the day after the retreat. The course's title "Inner Engineering" comes from the premise that in our exterior world, humans trust only things that work. We board elevators and trains not out of faith, but because we understand (or at least someone does) how they operate. However, for our interior world, we rely on things that are wishy-washy. Religions, philosophies, concepts like love—these work for some people some of the time, but generally we all pass through life with fluctuating discontent and uncertainty. But through close examination of the human system, a marrying of Eastern and Western knowledge to grasp "the nuts and bolts" of how life is, we may learn to run the "human machine" with a similar pleasurable confidence to how we turn on our phones or fly helicopters. (Sadhguru loves to fly helicopters.) What the following examples might seem to lack in cohesion, they make up for in accessibility. Seas rise with the full moon and our bodies are 60-percent water. To think our energy levels are independent of nature's cycles is ludicrous. The human jaw and digestive tract closely resemble a structure common to herbivores, and it's a diet of far too much meat—like bad gasoline—that's largely responsible for our lethargy and need to sleep seven to nine hours a day. Cared for properly, Sadhguru believes the human body can live up to 160 years. As a father of three children under age 3, the notion of functioning better off less sleep perked my ears. Key for dawn tee times.

At the cellular level, it's evident the fundamental nature of life is a desire to expand. Grass and flowers grow, squirrels and bears grow, each wanting to become a full-fledged grass blade, flower, squirrel and bear. At the essence of sexuality, is this desire to join oneself with another, to expand, and as a consequence, proliferate. The unique problem (or blessing) of humans is consciousness, and so we wrestle with what it means to be a full-fledged human being. Most of us have our basic needs of survival met, so it's almost out of something like boredom that we start our little personal psychodramas: Should I be a doctor, a lawyer, live alone in a cabin in the woods? Why doesn't that person like me; maybe a new set of irons will make me happy? When we consider that each of us is but a speck on a planet that is a speck in a solar system that is but a speck in the cosmos—a bacterial microbe crawling on your face occupies an infinitely larger relative plot of real estate—human concerns can become quite funny. Of course, this perspective is hard to maintain in the whirl of daily life. The answer, says Sadhguru, is to expand one's consciousness. What does that even mean, Carl Spackler? To allow your mind to exist beyond the boundary of your cranium. To join the elemental universe of which it is truly part. Get here, and it will feel second-nature "to look out at the world and feel limitless responsibility," even though your physical ability to do anything about its problems is limited. A notion with which I can almost connect, but it's hard when my knee ligaments are about to snap from sitting on the floor in extended Baddha Konasana.

CHASING ENLIGHTENMENT Same as the body is an accumulation of everything you eat, the mind is the sum of everything perceived through the five senses—the books you've read, the music you've heard, the places you've seen, the people you've known, on down the line. Though the DNA that shapes your nose remembers your great-grandmother, our minds and bodies essentially become the product of what we think and do. "Mindfulness" has been a buzz word of late, but Sadhguru prefers "meditativeness." He disparages modern yoga studios that focus on physical contortions and sweating while ignoring—or even worse, misguiding—the inner dimension. During times that survival is threatened, a gun is pointed at us or we flee a burning building, people often report an "out-of-body experience" where their mind was clear and they acted decisively, almost without thinking. How, one might imagine, a squirrel or bear is much of the time. But when you've got a coffee and a breakfast sandwich going, plopped in an office chair weighing what to say in the morning budget meeting, it's very much an "in-body experience." To foster this right detachment—or the kind of freeness that could lead to playing lights-out golf—Sadhguru says one might consider a traffic jam. You can feel angry and anxious stuck in one, but viewed from an airplane window, the snaking, glowing curves of tail lights become abstract and almost aesthetically pleasing. A grander perception that we all could seek more regularly. To rise there, to escape the confines of the self, the answer is meditation. Which initially can be very difficult. To think no thoughts and feel yourself exist, even if for just a moment, 12 inches outside your forehead—let alone a mile up in the sky—can take decades of practice. Though maybe just minutes. However long, don't wait until the final throes of life to "see a bright light at the end of the tunnel." The actionable takeaway of our retreat was a highly specific 21-minute routine of breathing and meditation called Shambhavi Kriya that should be done on an empty stomach. Eyes are meant to be closed, but how couldn't I peek at the four or five individuals who convulsed and cried with ecstasy? What does enlightenment feel like? Sadhguru says: "Take your greatest experience in life ever, and make that your baseline."

BACK TO REALITY Lunch was awkward. What kind of chit-chat to make with a sober table full of strangers after dipping our toes in the primordial nothingness? Mmm, is that chopped kale in this hummus? Delicious. So as not to incite envy, I withheld the fact I was later playing golf with our leader. Some remarks of others: "It's amazing how engaged he is giving what must be the same talk over and over." "If you had the ability to make the world a better place, you'd be tireless, too." "I find him much more pragmatic than Deepak Chopra."

BIG HITTER, THE GURU The Crossings at Carlsbad is a municipal course but defies the term with its flawless conditioning, $110 peak green fee, gleaming modern clubhouse and cart-mandatory routing. After three days at the altar, it was startling to see Sadhguru's robes replaced by slacks and designer shades. There wasn't time to hit the range, so Sadhguru warmed up by corkscrewing his arms and fingers forward and back in the loudest, most tendon-popping, mesmerizing stretch I've ever witnessed. The foursome ahead were clearly beginners, so I figured I'd go deep right away. "Sadhguru, what is the solution to slow play?" I said with solemnity, as if I had ascended a high peak to ask it. Without missing a beat, he grinned, "Better accuracy." He'd negotiated 14 strokes off me, remarking at breakfast that the key to golf was getting your opponent to boast about his game beforehand. Sadhguru has never taken a lesson but believes his "keen sense of geometry" garnered through yoga enables his steady play. Sure enough, he had me 2 down through four. "I am beating the pro," he said in gleeful disregard of the definition of amateur status. "Anybody can play decent golf like me," Sadhguru says, "but people trip on their own minds. They need to create a little distance between what they think and what they do." As for the seemingly hopelessly uncoordinated, Sadhguru says there are specific yogic practices for that. "In six to eight weeks everything they do will feel like magic." Sadhguru confided he thought the weekend's workshop had been successful, despite an audience he thought was reserved. I'd never encountered a more forthcoming group of strangers, as far as personal confessions and group dancing, which I suppose shows what a stiff I am. One way Sadhguru's organization measures success is through dogged survey work. Of all people who've attended Isha's workshops in the past year, 70 percent are still active with the prescribed meditative practices. Of the past three years, 40 percent. At The Crossings, you drive the entire length of the 12th hole from green to tee before you play it, an unusual re-routing to placate the California Coastal Commission and Army Corps of Engineers. The developers also faced challenges when nests of the endangered black-tailed gnatcatcher were discovered. Given his environmental initiatives, I probed Sadhguru's perspective on golf-haters during our extended cart ride. "Some people are always trying to think of everything in terms of utility. Life is not utility. If there's a water shortage, then, yes, let's water the greens and not the fairways. The problem is, we have set up the wrong aspirations. If everybody lived like Americans do, we'd need four planets. So now every small thing looks like an excess." Having fielded existential questions all weekend, Sadhguru was clearly more excited to talk trash. When I lost a ball off an errant drive, he was thrilled. "I cannot play any game halfheartedly, only intentionally," he winked. To coax him into performing his unique stretch on video, I offered him a floating mulligan, which he accepted and promptly redeemed. Riding up the 18th at sunset, it felt more like a round with a fun uncle, not a dignitary. Though as he sank a putt for a gritty net par to finish our match square, I remembered one thing Sadhguru said to me during the back nine, response to some inane question I'd cobbled about the cosmos. "The purpose of life is to explore one's own life to its fullest, to explore all dimensions. Forget the galaxies." Golfers everywhere can take comfort in the fact that an enlightened individual is concerned with the same 4¼-inch black hole.

EPILOGUE Only one week after the retreat, back in the throes of early-morning commuting, endless diaper changes and all the rest, I fell off the path by neglecting my Shambhavi Kriya practices. Barricading 21 quiet minutes daily felt impossible, even if it wasn't. The reality of my failure and lack of spiritual discipline set in at Chuck E. Cheese on a Saturday for a child's birthday party. Between the warm soda, greasy pizza, dirty carpets and cacophony of arcade games stoking frenzied desire, it occurred to me this was the worst collection of all possible inputs. If we truly are an accumulation of all perceived through the senses, I was doomed. But then I remembered a line from Sadhguru I hadn't written down. A trumping wisdom for raising consciousness: "No matter what you do, do it willingly." So I toured my daughter around to every stupid game and proceeded to have way more fun than if I'd played golf.

Brought to you by Lowville Golf Club

[hamiltongolfcourses]

Attain Golf Enlightenment: Meet The Real Guru Of Golf

Anyone who has seen "Caddyshack" knows Bill Murray's character, Carl Spackler, is promised total consciousness on his deathbed. Turns out the Dalai Lama isn't a golfer, but another highly influential spiritual leader is. Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev's YouTube videos, which mostly take the form of five-minute answers to deep questions, have eclipsed 100 million views. His is a globetrotting schedule—conducting large-scale meditation workshops, building schools, battling deforestation, lecturing for assemblies like the United Nations and World Economic Forum—but the self-described "yogi, mystic and visionary" got in 29 rounds last year. "When the entire population of the world attains enlightenment, I'll retire and play golf every day," he says, and it's oddly hypnotic the way his white beard bounces as he laughs. He has to tie it so it doesn't interfere with his swing. He almost always brings his clubs on the road, eschews carts, and prefers parkland courses to links. A dean at the University of Cambridge was incredulous when she heard he partook in such a bourgeoisie activity. "I love games, and I'll play any," Sadhguru told her. "Games are a way of training ourselves to be heavily involved without being serious." A way of being, Sadhguru believes, that can assist in learning how to focus inward. He likes to quote Swami Vivekananda, the yogi pioneer who came to the United States in 1893, who said, "Kicking a football will take you closer to the Divine than any amount of prayer." If Swami had played golf, surely he would've agreed the mind similarly can't wander. To train for his annual summer trek in the Himalayas of Tibet, Sadhguru, who turned 60 on Sept. 3, walks 36 holes a day for several days on a course at an elevation of 6,200 feet in his native India. "By day two or three my game becomes really good," he says. "The best round I ever shot was three over par. Most of the time I'm between six and 18." Not bad considering he took up the game seriously just a few years ago—a friend's suggestion after Sadhguru injured his knee playing soccer with children. "He's a good player, and strong," says five-time major champion Yani Tseng, who first attended one of Sadhguru's workshops in Manhattan, then later spent one-on-one time with the man at the meditation center he built in Tennessee. Why Tennessee? Besides natural beauty, its central location is within a day's drive for most of the U.S. population. When you're trying to change the world, you've got to be efficient. Tseng's initial motivation for visiting Sadhguru was to regain the mental clarity she enjoyed when she was the No. 1 female golfer in the world. "I had all these specific questions, but once I was around him those questions started to feel unimportant. He brings such a sense of peace. I forgot about golf and started thinking more about enjoying life, being grateful for my family and friends. Of course, having a quiet mind also helps in golf."

If Tiger Woods would accept his help, Sadhguru believes he could get him going in the right direction, too. Which, if you commit to reading on, is what this is all about. Prepping the mind to hit fewer shots can't be separated from the larger task of total self-re-examination. "Today, the most important work on the planet is to raise human consciousness," Sadhguru says—and writes. (His dozen books he has simply dictated into a recording device, then made minimal edits to the transcripts—a working method that is unbelievable until you hear him speak for hours without a single stammer or notecard.) "For the first time, we have the necessary capability, technology and resources to solve almost every human problem—fundamental problems like malnutrition, sickness, illiteracy—on this planet; never before was this possible. The only thing that is missing is human consciousness. ... All it takes is to make human beings willing." Willing, that is, to be truly inclusive and compassionate. To see themselves as part of a larger energy that is dispersed among all forms of life.

DIVISIVE FIGURES Whoa. Let's pause here. From Tony Robbins to Eckhart Tolle, modern gurus—which let's define as charismatic figures who make their life telling others how to live—tend to engender worship or extreme skepticism. Internet trolls accuse Sadhguru of hypocrisy in little ways, and others battle on intellectual turf, arguing his transposing of ancient Eastern philosophy into the Western world takes unforgivable shortcuts. "My hypothesis is that Jaggi Vasudev's act of interspersing his religious sermon with science is a conscious attempt to appeal to the urbane middle class," writes someone whose screen name is "tArkika."

POWERFUL IN PERSON But far more credit the man for changing their lives for the better. In 2016, Sadhguru initiated 35,000 Americans into yoga. In India, certain nights of Hindu celebrations with Sadhguru have drawn half a million people. In 2017, the Indian government awarded him its highest annual civilian honor, the Padma Vibhushan. He has played six-hour rounds because of grounds-crew workers and other followers flocking the fairway. "By the time the round is over, I've blessed 150 to 200 people," he says. A guru's delivery is equally if not more important than his message, so I hesitate to distill in an article that which was conveyed over 20 hours of lecture (accompanied by group chanting and an absolutely terrific string band). So all I'll say is, I attended Sadhguru's three-day course on "Inner Engineering" at the Sheraton Carlsbad Resort & Spa. Early registration of $2,000 covered room and vegetarian board, with the rest supporting the nonprofit Isha Foundation, which Sadhguru founded in 1992. If you're a golfer, who among us hasn't wondered if a little Zen training might improve our putting? So it was with this mixture of curiosity and selfish motivation that I laid down my mat and prepared to be transformed. There were 140 participants, including those who'd flown from South America, the Caribbean, even India, to spend this special intimate session with Sadhguru. A curious number of attendees were in medicine; doctors and practitioners looking for knowledge to complement (or replace) what they'd learned of the human system in traditional education. The rest of the attendees professed old-fashioned, run-of-the-mill existential crises—sometimes I wake up in the morning and just think, What's the point?—and were seeking greater meaning. I wasn't the only golfer. Old and young, fit and fat, stylish and frumpy—overall, about the most diverse group ever gathered in a tapestried conference room. Cross-legged and mic'd on the stage, magnificently holy in his colored robes although he endorses no religion (his teachings have the most parallels with Buddhism), Sadhguru paused if a person left to go to the bathroom, so critical was each word of this condensed course. We were afforded comfort breaks every two hours, though Sadhguru mischievously hinted pride about his superior capacity. Such control over the body's plumbing might one day also be ours, if we followed the practices with discipline. Note-taking was strictly discouraged. "We are not here to make scripture," Sadhguru joked, and we laughed. "Leave behind what you think you know and please just give me your full attention these next few days. That is all I ask." What does enlightenment feel like? ‘Take your greatest experience in life ever, and make that your baseline.’

THE MEANING OF LIFE Because I am not your guru, where Sadhguru weaves nuance I can only offer brevity. What follows are the crib notes on the meaning of life, before I get to the part about which I'm qualified to comment—teeing it up with Sadhguru the day after the retreat. The course's title "Inner Engineering" comes from the premise that in our exterior world, humans trust only things that work. We board elevators and trains not out of faith, but because we understand (or at least someone does) how they operate. However, for our interior world, we rely on things that are wishy-washy. Religions, philosophies, concepts like love—these work for some people some of the time, but generally we all pass through life with fluctuating discontent and uncertainty. But through close examination of the human system, a marrying of Eastern and Western knowledge to grasp "the nuts and bolts" of how life is, we may learn to run the "human machine" with a similar pleasurable confidence to how we turn on our phones or fly helicopters. (Sadhguru loves to fly helicopters.) What the following examples might seem to lack in cohesion, they make up for in accessibility. Seas rise with the full moon and our bodies are 60-percent water. To think our energy levels are independent of nature's cycles is ludicrous. The human jaw and digestive tract closely resemble a structure common to herbivores, and it's a diet of far too much meat—like bad gasoline—that's largely responsible for our lethargy and need to sleep seven to nine hours a day. Cared for properly, Sadhguru believes the human body can live up to 160 years. As a father of three children under age 3, the notion of functioning better off less sleep perked my ears. Key for dawn tee times.

At the cellular level, it's evident the fundamental nature of life is a desire to expand. Grass and flowers grow, squirrels and bears grow, each wanting to become a full-fledged grass blade, flower, squirrel and bear. At the essence of sexuality, is this desire to join oneself with another, to expand, and as a consequence, proliferate. The unique problem (or blessing) of humans is consciousness, and so we wrestle with what it means to be a full-fledged human being. Most of us have our basic needs of survival met, so it's almost out of something like boredom that we start our little personal psychodramas: Should I be a doctor, a lawyer, live alone in a cabin in the woods? Why doesn't that person like me; maybe a new set of irons will make me happy? When we consider that each of us is but a speck on a planet that is a speck in a solar system that is but a speck in the cosmos—a bacterial microbe crawling on your face occupies an infinitely larger relative plot of real estate—human concerns can become quite funny. Of course, this perspective is hard to maintain in the whirl of daily life. The answer, says Sadhguru, is to expand one's consciousness. What does that even mean, Carl Spackler? To allow your mind to exist beyond the boundary of your cranium. To join the elemental universe of which it is truly part. Get here, and it will feel second-nature "to look out at the world and feel limitless responsibility," even though your physical ability to do anything about its problems is limited. A notion with which I can almost connect, but it's hard when my knee ligaments are about to snap from sitting on the floor in extended Baddha Konasana.

CHASING ENLIGHTENMENT Same as the body is an accumulation of everything you eat, the mind is the sum of everything perceived through the five senses—the books you've read, the music you've heard, the places you've seen, the people you've known, on down the line. Though the DNA that shapes your nose remembers your great-grandmother, our minds and bodies essentially become the product of what we think and do. "Mindfulness" has been a buzz word of late, but Sadhguru prefers "meditativeness." He disparages modern yoga studios that focus on physical contortions and sweating while ignoring—or even worse, misguiding—the inner dimension. During times that survival is threatened, a gun is pointed at us or we flee a burning building, people often report an "out-of-body experience" where their mind was clear and they acted decisively, almost without thinking. How, one might imagine, a squirrel or bear is much of the time. But when you've got a coffee and a breakfast sandwich going, plopped in an office chair weighing what to say in the morning budget meeting, it's very much an "in-body experience." To foster this right detachment—or the kind of freeness that could lead to playing lights-out golf—Sadhguru says one might consider a traffic jam. You can feel angry and anxious stuck in one, but viewed from an airplane window, the snaking, glowing curves of tail lights become abstract and almost aesthetically pleasing. A grander perception that we all could seek more regularly. To rise there, to escape the confines of the self, the answer is meditation. Which initially can be very difficult. To think no thoughts and feel yourself exist, even if for just a moment, 12 inches outside your forehead—let alone a mile up in the sky—can take decades of practice. Though maybe just minutes. However long, don't wait until the final throes of life to "see a bright light at the end of the tunnel." The actionable takeaway of our retreat was a highly specific 21-minute routine of breathing and meditation called Shambhavi Kriya that should be done on an empty stomach. Eyes are meant to be closed, but how couldn't I peek at the four or five individuals who convulsed and cried with ecstasy? What does enlightenment feel like? Sadhguru says: "Take your greatest experience in life ever, and make that your baseline."

BACK TO REALITY Lunch was awkward. What kind of chit-chat to make with a sober table full of strangers after dipping our toes in the primordial nothingness? Mmm, is that chopped kale in this hummus? Delicious. So as not to incite envy, I withheld the fact I was later playing golf with our leader. Some remarks of others: "It's amazing how engaged he is giving what must be the same talk over and over." "If you had the ability to make the world a better place, you'd be tireless, too." "I find him much more pragmatic than Deepak Chopra."

BIG HITTER, THE GURU The Crossings at Carlsbad is a municipal course but defies the term with its flawless conditioning, $110 peak green fee, gleaming modern clubhouse and cart-mandatory routing. After three days at the altar, it was startling to see Sadhguru's robes replaced by slacks and designer shades. There wasn't time to hit the range, so Sadhguru warmed up by corkscrewing his arms and fingers forward and back in the loudest, most tendon-popping, mesmerizing stretch I've ever witnessed. The foursome ahead were clearly beginners, so I figured I'd go deep right away. "Sadhguru, what is the solution to slow play?" I said with solemnity, as if I had ascended a high peak to ask it. Without missing a beat, he grinned, "Better accuracy." He'd negotiated 14 strokes off me, remarking at breakfast that the key to golf was getting your opponent to boast about his game beforehand. Sadhguru has never taken a lesson but believes his "keen sense of geometry" garnered through yoga enables his steady play. Sure enough, he had me 2 down through four. "I am beating the pro," he said in gleeful disregard of the definition of amateur status. "Anybody can play decent golf like me," Sadhguru says, "but people trip on their own minds. They need to create a little distance between what they think and what they do." As for the seemingly hopelessly uncoordinated, Sadhguru says there are specific yogic practices for that. "In six to eight weeks everything they do will feel like magic." Sadhguru confided he thought the weekend's workshop had been successful, despite an audience he thought was reserved. I'd never encountered a more forthcoming group of strangers, as far as personal confessions and group dancing, which I suppose shows what a stiff I am. One way Sadhguru's organization measures success is through dogged survey work. Of all people who've attended Isha's workshops in the past year, 70 percent are still active with the prescribed meditative practices. Of the past three years, 40 percent. At The Crossings, you drive the entire length of the 12th hole from green to tee before you play it, an unusual re-routing to placate the California Coastal Commission and Army Corps of Engineers. The developers also faced challenges when nests of the endangered black-tailed gnatcatcher were discovered. Given his environmental initiatives, I probed Sadhguru's perspective on golf-haters during our extended cart ride. "Some people are always trying to think of everything in terms of utility. Life is not utility. If there's a water shortage, then, yes, let's water the greens and not the fairways. The problem is, we have set up the wrong aspirations. If everybody lived like Americans do, we'd need four planets. So now every small thing looks like an excess." Having fielded existential questions all weekend, Sadhguru was clearly more excited to talk trash. When I lost a ball off an errant drive, he was thrilled. "I cannot play any game halfheartedly, only intentionally," he winked. To coax him into performing his unique stretch on video, I offered him a floating mulligan, which he accepted and promptly redeemed. Riding up the 18th at sunset, it felt more like a round with a fun uncle, not a dignitary. Though as he sank a putt for a gritty net par to finish our match square, I remembered one thing Sadhguru said to me during the back nine, response to some inane question I'd cobbled about the cosmos. "The purpose of life is to explore one's own life to its fullest, to explore all dimensions. Forget the galaxies." Golfers everywhere can take comfort in the fact that an enlightened individual is concerned with the same 4¼-inch black hole.

EPILOGUE Only one week after the retreat, back in the throes of early-morning commuting, endless diaper changes and all the rest, I fell off the path by neglecting my Shambhavi Kriya practices. Barricading 21 quiet minutes daily felt impossible, even if it wasn't. The reality of my failure and lack of spiritual discipline set in at Chuck E. Cheese on a Saturday for a child's birthday party. Between the warm soda, greasy pizza, dirty carpets and cacophony of arcade games stoking frenzied desire, it occurred to me this was the worst collection of all possible inputs. If we truly are an accumulation of all perceived through the senses, I was doomed. But then I remembered a line from Sadhguru I hadn't written down. A trumping wisdom for raising consciousness: "No matter what you do, do it willingly." So I toured my daughter around to every stupid game and proceeded to have way more fun than if I'd played golf.

Brought to you by Southern Pines Golf & CC

[4seasonscountryclub]

Attain Golf Enlightenment: Meet The Real Guru Of Golf

Anyone who has seen "Caddyshack" knows Bill Murray's character, Carl Spackler, is promised total consciousness on his deathbed. Turns out the Dalai Lama isn't a golfer, but another highly influential spiritual leader is. Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev's YouTube videos, which mostly take the form of five-minute answers to deep questions, have eclipsed 100 million views. His is a globetrotting schedule—conducting large-scale meditation workshops, building schools, battling deforestation, lecturing for assemblies like the United Nations and World Economic Forum—but the self-described "yogi, mystic and visionary" got in 29 rounds last year. "When the entire population of the world attains enlightenment, I'll retire and play golf every day," he says, and it's oddly hypnotic the way his white beard bounces as he laughs. He has to tie it so it doesn't interfere with his swing. He almost always brings his clubs on the road, eschews carts, and prefers parkland courses to links. A dean at the University of Cambridge was incredulous when she heard he partook in such a bourgeoisie activity. "I love games, and I'll play any," Sadhguru told her. "Games are a way of training ourselves to be heavily involved without being serious." A way of being, Sadhguru believes, that can assist in learning how to focus inward. He likes to quote Swami Vivekananda, the yogi pioneer who came to the United States in 1893, who said, "Kicking a football will take you closer to the Divine than any amount of prayer." If Swami had played golf, surely he would've agreed the mind similarly can't wander. To train for his annual summer trek in the Himalayas of Tibet, Sadhguru, who turned 60 on Sept. 3, walks 36 holes a day for several days on a course at an elevation of 6,200 feet in his native India. "By day two or three my game becomes really good," he says. "The best round I ever shot was three over par. Most of the time I'm between six and 18." Not bad considering he took up the game seriously just a few years ago—a friend's suggestion after Sadhguru injured his knee playing soccer with children. "He's a good player, and strong," says five-time major champion Yani Tseng, who first attended one of Sadhguru's workshops in Manhattan, then later spent one-on-one time with the man at the meditation center he built in Tennessee. Why Tennessee? Besides natural beauty, its central location is within a day's drive for most of the U.S. population. When you're trying to change the world, you've got to be efficient. Tseng's initial motivation for visiting Sadhguru was to regain the mental clarity she enjoyed when she was the No. 1 female golfer in the world. "I had all these specific questions, but once I was around him those questions started to feel unimportant. He brings such a sense of peace. I forgot about golf and started thinking more about enjoying life, being grateful for my family and friends. Of course, having a quiet mind also helps in golf."

If Tiger Woods would accept his help, Sadhguru believes he could get him going in the right direction, too. Which, if you commit to reading on, is what this is all about. Prepping the mind to hit fewer shots can't be separated from the larger task of total self-re-examination. "Today, the most important work on the planet is to raise human consciousness," Sadhguru says—and writes. (His dozen books he has simply dictated into a recording device, then made minimal edits to the transcripts—a working method that is unbelievable until you hear him speak for hours without a single stammer or notecard.) "For the first time, we have the necessary capability, technology and resources to solve almost every human problem—fundamental problems like malnutrition, sickness, illiteracy—on this planet; never before was this possible. The only thing that is missing is human consciousness. ... All it takes is to make human beings willing." Willing, that is, to be truly inclusive and compassionate. To see themselves as part of a larger energy that is dispersed among all forms of life.

DIVISIVE FIGURES Whoa. Let's pause here. From Tony Robbins to Eckhart Tolle, modern gurus—which let's define as charismatic figures who make their life telling others how to live—tend to engender worship or extreme skepticism. Internet trolls accuse Sadhguru of hypocrisy in little ways, and others battle on intellectual turf, arguing his transposing of ancient Eastern philosophy into the Western world takes unforgivable shortcuts. "My hypothesis is that Jaggi Vasudev's act of interspersing his religious sermon with science is a conscious attempt to appeal to the urbane middle class," writes someone whose screen name is "tArkika."

POWERFUL IN PERSON But far more credit the man for changing their lives for the better. In 2016, Sadhguru initiated 35,000 Americans into yoga. In India, certain nights of Hindu celebrations with Sadhguru have drawn half a million people. In 2017, the Indian government awarded him its highest annual civilian honor, the Padma Vibhushan. He has played six-hour rounds because of grounds-crew workers and other followers flocking the fairway. "By the time the round is over, I've blessed 150 to 200 people," he says. A guru's delivery is equally if not more important than his message, so I hesitate to distill in an article that which was conveyed over 20 hours of lecture (accompanied by group chanting and an absolutely terrific string band). So all I'll say is, I attended Sadhguru's three-day course on "Inner Engineering" at the Sheraton Carlsbad Resort & Spa. Early registration of $2,000 covered room and vegetarian board, with the rest supporting the nonprofit Isha Foundation, which Sadhguru founded in 1992. If you're a golfer, who among us hasn't wondered if a little Zen training might improve our putting? So it was with this mixture of curiosity and selfish motivation that I laid down my mat and prepared to be transformed. There were 140 participants, including those who'd flown from South America, the Caribbean, even India, to spend this special intimate session with Sadhguru. A curious number of attendees were in medicine; doctors and practitioners looking for knowledge to complement (or replace) what they'd learned of the human system in traditional education. The rest of the attendees professed old-fashioned, run-of-the-mill existential crises—sometimes I wake up in the morning and just think, What's the point?—and were seeking greater meaning. I wasn't the only golfer. Old and young, fit and fat, stylish and frumpy—overall, about the most diverse group ever gathered in a tapestried conference room. Cross-legged and mic'd on the stage, magnificently holy in his colored robes although he endorses no religion (his teachings have the most parallels with Buddhism), Sadhguru paused if a person left to go to the bathroom, so critical was each word of this condensed course. We were afforded comfort breaks every two hours, though Sadhguru mischievously hinted pride about his superior capacity. Such control over the body's plumbing might one day also be ours, if we followed the practices with discipline. Note-taking was strictly discouraged. "We are not here to make scripture," Sadhguru joked, and we laughed. "Leave behind what you think you know and please just give me your full attention these next few days. That is all I ask." What does enlightenment feel like? ‘Take your greatest experience in life ever, and make that your baseline.’

THE MEANING OF LIFE Because I am not your guru, where Sadhguru weaves nuance I can only offer brevity. What follows are the crib notes on the meaning of life, before I get to the part about which I'm qualified to comment—teeing it up with Sadhguru the day after the retreat. The course's title "Inner Engineering" comes from the premise that in our exterior world, humans trust only things that work. We board elevators and trains not out of faith, but because we understand (or at least someone does) how they operate. However, for our interior world, we rely on things that are wishy-washy. Religions, philosophies, concepts like love—these work for some people some of the time, but generally we all pass through life with fluctuating discontent and uncertainty. But through close examination of the human system, a marrying of Eastern and Western knowledge to grasp "the nuts and bolts" of how life is, we may learn to run the "human machine" with a similar pleasurable confidence to how we turn on our phones or fly helicopters. (Sadhguru loves to fly helicopters.) What the following examples might seem to lack in cohesion, they make up for in accessibility. Seas rise with the full moon and our bodies are 60-percent water. To think our energy levels are independent of nature's cycles is ludicrous. The human jaw and digestive tract closely resemble a structure common to herbivores, and it's a diet of far too much meat—like bad gasoline—that's largely responsible for our lethargy and need to sleep seven to nine hours a day. Cared for properly, Sadhguru believes the human body can live up to 160 years. As a father of three children under age 3, the notion of functioning better off less sleep perked my ears. Key for dawn tee times.

At the cellular level, it's evident the fundamental nature of life is a desire to expand. Grass and flowers grow, squirrels and bears grow, each wanting to become a full-fledged grass blade, flower, squirrel and bear. At the essence of sexuality, is this desire to join oneself with another, to expand, and as a consequence, proliferate. The unique problem (or blessing) of humans is consciousness, and so we wrestle with what it means to be a full-fledged human being. Most of us have our basic needs of survival met, so it's almost out of something like boredom that we start our little personal psychodramas: Should I be a doctor, a lawyer, live alone in a cabin in the woods? Why doesn't that person like me; maybe a new set of irons will make me happy? When we consider that each of us is but a speck on a planet that is a speck in a solar system that is but a speck in the cosmos—a bacterial microbe crawling on your face occupies an infinitely larger relative plot of real estate—human concerns can become quite funny. Of course, this perspective is hard to maintain in the whirl of daily life. The answer, says Sadhguru, is to expand one's consciousness. What does that even mean, Carl Spackler? To allow your mind to exist beyond the boundary of your cranium. To join the elemental universe of which it is truly part. Get here, and it will feel second-nature "to look out at the world and feel limitless responsibility," even though your physical ability to do anything about its problems is limited. A notion with which I can almost connect, but it's hard when my knee ligaments are about to snap from sitting on the floor in extended Baddha Konasana.

CHASING ENLIGHTENMENT Same as the body is an accumulation of everything you eat, the mind is the sum of everything perceived through the five senses—the books you've read, the music you've heard, the places you've seen, the people you've known, on down the line. Though the DNA that shapes your nose remembers your great-grandmother, our minds and bodies essentially become the product of what we think and do. "Mindfulness" has been a buzz word of late, but Sadhguru prefers "meditativeness." He disparages modern yoga studios that focus on physical contortions and sweating while ignoring—or even worse, misguiding—the inner dimension. During times that survival is threatened, a gun is pointed at us or we flee a burning building, people often report an "out-of-body experience" where their mind was clear and they acted decisively, almost without thinking. How, one might imagine, a squirrel or bear is much of the time. But when you've got a coffee and a breakfast sandwich going, plopped in an office chair weighing what to say in the morning budget meeting, it's very much an "in-body experience." To foster this right detachment—or the kind of freeness that could lead to playing lights-out golf—Sadhguru says one might consider a traffic jam. You can feel angry and anxious stuck in one, but viewed from an airplane window, the snaking, glowing curves of tail lights become abstract and almost aesthetically pleasing. A grander perception that we all could seek more regularly. To rise there, to escape the confines of the self, the answer is meditation. Which initially can be very difficult. To think no thoughts and feel yourself exist, even if for just a moment, 12 inches outside your forehead—let alone a mile up in the sky—can take decades of practice. Though maybe just minutes. However long, don't wait until the final throes of life to "see a bright light at the end of the tunnel." The actionable takeaway of our retreat was a highly specific 21-minute routine of breathing and meditation called Shambhavi Kriya that should be done on an empty stomach. Eyes are meant to be closed, but how couldn't I peek at the four or five individuals who convulsed and cried with ecstasy? What does enlightenment feel like? Sadhguru says: "Take your greatest experience in life ever, and make that your baseline."

BACK TO REALITY Lunch was awkward. What kind of chit-chat to make with a sober table full of strangers after dipping our toes in the primordial nothingness? Mmm, is that chopped kale in this hummus? Delicious. So as not to incite envy, I withheld the fact I was later playing golf with our leader. Some remarks of others: "It's amazing how engaged he is giving what must be the same talk over and over." "If you had the ability to make the world a better place, you'd be tireless, too." "I find him much more pragmatic than Deepak Chopra."

BIG HITTER, THE GURU The Crossings at Carlsbad is a municipal course but defies the term with its flawless conditioning, $110 peak green fee, gleaming modern clubhouse and cart-mandatory routing. After three days at the altar, it was startling to see Sadhguru's robes replaced by slacks and designer shades. There wasn't time to hit the range, so Sadhguru warmed up by corkscrewing his arms and fingers forward and back in the loudest, most tendon-popping, mesmerizing stretch I've ever witnessed. The foursome ahead were clearly beginners, so I figured I'd go deep right away. "Sadhguru, what is the solution to slow play?" I said with solemnity, as if I had ascended a high peak to ask it. Without missing a beat, he grinned, "Better accuracy." He'd negotiated 14 strokes off me, remarking at breakfast that the key to golf was getting your opponent to boast about his game beforehand. Sadhguru has never taken a lesson but believes his "keen sense of geometry" garnered through yoga enables his steady play. Sure enough, he had me 2 down through four. "I am beating the pro," he said in gleeful disregard of the definition of amateur status. "Anybody can play decent golf like me," Sadhguru says, "but people trip on their own minds. They need to create a little distance between what they think and what they do." As for the seemingly hopelessly uncoordinated, Sadhguru says there are specific yogic practices for that. "In six to eight weeks everything they do will feel like magic." Sadhguru confided he thought the weekend's workshop had been successful, despite an audience he thought was reserved. I'd never encountered a more forthcoming group of strangers, as far as personal confessions and group dancing, which I suppose shows what a stiff I am. One way Sadhguru's organization measures success is through dogged survey work. Of all people who've attended Isha's workshops in the past year, 70 percent are still active with the prescribed meditative practices. Of the past three years, 40 percent. At The Crossings, you drive the entire length of the 12th hole from green to tee before you play it, an unusual re-routing to placate the California Coastal Commission and Army Corps of Engineers. The developers also faced challenges when nests of the endangered black-tailed gnatcatcher were discovered. Given his environmental initiatives, I probed Sadhguru's perspective on golf-haters during our extended cart ride. "Some people are always trying to think of everything in terms of utility. Life is not utility. If there's a water shortage, then, yes, let's water the greens and not the fairways. The problem is, we have set up the wrong aspirations. If everybody lived like Americans do, we'd need four planets. So now every small thing looks like an excess." Having fielded existential questions all weekend, Sadhguru was clearly more excited to talk trash. When I lost a ball off an errant drive, he was thrilled. "I cannot play any game halfheartedly, only intentionally," he winked. To coax him into performing his unique stretch on video, I offered him a floating mulligan, which he accepted and promptly redeemed. Riding up the 18th at sunset, it felt more like a round with a fun uncle, not a dignitary. Though as he sank a putt for a gritty net par to finish our match square, I remembered one thing Sadhguru said to me during the back nine, response to some inane question I'd cobbled about the cosmos. "The purpose of life is to explore one's own life to its fullest, to explore all dimensions. Forget the galaxies." Golfers everywhere can take comfort in the fact that an enlightened individual is concerned with the same 4¼-inch black hole.

EPILOGUE Only one week after the retreat, back in the throes of early-morning commuting, endless diaper changes and all the rest, I fell off the path by neglecting my Shambhavi Kriya practices. Barricading 21 quiet minutes daily felt impossible, even if it wasn't. The reality of my failure and lack of spiritual discipline set in at Chuck E. Cheese on a Saturday for a child's birthday party. Between the warm soda, greasy pizza, dirty carpets and cacophony of arcade games stoking frenzied desire, it occurred to me this was the worst collection of all possible inputs. If we truly are an accumulation of all perceived through the senses, I was doomed. But then I remembered a line from Sadhguru I hadn't written down. A trumping wisdom for raising consciousness: "No matter what you do, do it willingly." So I toured my daughter around to every stupid game and proceeded to have way more fun than if I'd played golf.

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Raz | 28 | CST | He/him

Desired Character: Yoshimoto Gen The series they are from: Cage -OPEN-

Their Age: 24 Location: Redlight, West 47th Court #1369 Artificial or Natural: Natural Idol Class: Alpha Branch Name/Profession: N/A [Failed Idol] Pupil Shape: Starburst

What technique do they respond to?: None. All techniques are greeted with the same response: annoyance and defiance.

Personality:

+Childish – Yoshimoto is very immature and seems to see the world the way a child would at times. Social interactions are rarely mature, and he handles things in a rather childish manner, resulting in a lot of miscommunication and frustration. People seem to have difficulty connecting to him because he always seems to be in his own little world, and he’s fine with people thinking he’s weird or immature. As long as he has fun, that’s all that matters in the end to him. He’s very bouncy and energetic, and he can go a bit overboard when things are treated like a game.

+Stubborn – If there’s one thing he hates, it’s listening to people. If he wants to do something, he’s going to do it without any question or thought, and if anyone tells him he can’t or he shouldn’t, he’ll do it anyway. Trying to get him to listen or do anything anyone tells him to is like trying to force a cat into a cat carrier: there’s no making him do it without someone getting hurt over it. And it probably won’t be him that gets hurt.

+Observant – Despite how strange his thought processes are, he seems almost frighteningly capable of reading how people are feeling just by looking at them, though he seems to have a tough time reading the mood.

+Instinct-Driven – Most people act on their emotions or logic. Yoshimoto acts purely on instinct and impulse. There’s really no thought or emotion behind his actions, they just happen, and he has fun with whatever happens. Because of this, people tend to underestimate his intelligence, and are often taken off-guard by his moments of lucidity and intellect.

+Delusions – He has undiagnosed psychosis, and a major part of his delusions involve games of some sort. He takes games too far, and has rather violent versions of common children’s games, though he never takes it far enough to kill anyone. However, if the game does too far, or it become apparent that it’s “that kind of game…”

+Short attention span – He has the attention span of a gnat. If something isn’t moving actively, or playing with him, or interacting with him in a manner that he deems entertaining, he’ll just flatly stare for a moment and walk away without a thought. Objects, people, TV shows. If they don’t hold his interest, he abandons them quickly and easily. Conversations about himself are also considered, by him, to be boring or lame, and he’ll generally ignore most questions asked about himself.

+Violent Tendencies – If it’s that kind of mood, a violent and aggressive mood, Yoshimoto can get rather violent, though he isn’t the type to kill intentionally. However, if the mood shifts to something more murderous, or a game becomes “that kind of game” then there’s no telling what he could do, especially if there’s a clean, distinct difference between “normal” life and the “game.”

+Empathy Impairment – High empathy for objects he’s attached to. He’s cried over tools and toys before, and names his favorite things. However, on the other hand, he has very low empathy towards people or other living things. He won’t cry or feel much is a person or animal dies, though there are people he can get attached to and will have high empathy towards. Because of this though, he doesn’t seem to have many friends, and he’s fine with that.

Biography:

Born as a natural idol from a surrogate mother in Hobara, Japan, located in the Fukushima district, he was always a little different, even by idol standards. He always saw the world in far different ways than other children (and idols) his age. His thought processes were drastically different, and he seemed to mostly have a very flat affect. His manner of speech was always strange as well, but his parents tried to ignore it. Their child was just an odd duck, they would say.

He was a wild child, who seemed to live more by instinct than intellect, and was often causing trouble for his parents and people in the neighborhood. At some point, a stray dog got attached to him, though only after he spent weeks feeding it and trying to play with it. He, uncreatively, named it Pochi. The only reason his parents let him keep it was because it kept him out of trouble, and it seemed to decrease his energy levels at least a little.

When he entered elementary school, he had a tough time making friends because of this, and was often bullied because of it. It was common for him to deal with razor blades tucked in his notebooks, his bag being dumped into water, funeral flowers placed on his desk while his classmates ignored him. He didn't seem to care though. Not until the age of 10 did things start to change. His delusions got a little worse, and he acted out a bit more. His grades started plummeting. Pochi kept his spirits up when the bullying god worse, though it was hard to tell if he really cared how his peers and teachers viewed him.

One day, Pochi ran away from home.

Yoshimoto spent every waking hour wandering the neighborhood, yelling for his dog while waving umaibo to try and get his dog to come home. At some point, his dog came home. It was battered and beaten, and missing an eye. It was barely alive, and Yoshimoto could only stare and think,

Did you fall in muddy water? Did it rain?

My Pochi, all muddied in wounds, all bloodied in wounds.

Poor, poor creature.

If you're so filthy, if you're so pitiful, surely nobody will love you.

Wouldn't it be better to die then?

So, Pochi...

I will kill you.

Without a second thought, he killed his dog and left it in the street, seeing no need to do anything with the corpse. He kept the kitchen knife he killed his dog with in his bag, the only reminder he had of his precious dog. The next time he attended school, he overheard some classmates bragging about hurting his dog, making it as “fucked up” as he was.

It was the first time Yoshimoto got angry, and the knife he kept in his bag was used to stab the classmate. The last thing his classmate heard were the screams of the rest of the children.

The student died on the way to the hospital, and Yoshimoto’s parents quickly took him out of school.

At this point, he was shuffled off to a hospital, but the staff there weren’t very well-versed with his situation and it mostly seemed to be a place where he could just be out of the public eye. When he was 12, Adamas officials picked him up out of the hospital, and his training began, though it was harder on his trainers than him it seemed.

When he was 14, he was moved to Aelton, where the mental healthcare was top-quality, rather than the shoddy mental healthcare Japan offered.

One of his trainers there in Aelton, an ex-cop, frequently protested to the harsh training and abuse Yoshimoto suffered as a result of his stubborn personality. He didn’t think Yoshimoto would be fit to be an idol, and insisted on trying to get Yoshimoto the mental help he needed, rather than the harsh Idol training. Adamas higher ups ignored him, and demanded they continue forward.

Yoshimoto had been, after all, an expensive Idol, and, clearly, not human. His wild personality, and rather animal-like attitude just cemented this idea. After all, animals could be trained.

The trainer, Yoshimoto decided, was an annoyance. Like a child purposefully disrespecting their parent, he caused all sorts of trouble for the trainer and always ran away from him. It was a hard job keeping an eye on him. He also refused all types of medications, and when attempts were made to force him to take them, he reacted violently. Three human trainers were injured and had to be hospitalized, and Alpha class security had to be called in to restrain him to make him take them.

His trainer, to try and make the entire thing easier on him, told him taking the medicine was a game, and that he would win if he took the medicine before the Guards got to him. And for a while, he was fine with it and took the medicine without complaint, because, hey, that was the game.

When he was 16, he got tired of it and stopped taking the medicine again.

And again, the Alpha security people were brought in. This time though, it was a different game he decided.

His trainer, the only one who managed to stick with him through it all, came back one day, prepared to deal with a cranky Yoshimoto. This was common after medication was forced on him after all, so he brought extra umaibo to placate him. Instead, he found seven dead Alpha security guards, heads bashed in and Yoshimoto standing in the middle of the bloodbath, a baseball bat in hand.

After that, the pills were slipped into his food, to minimize casualties.

For his training, they kept him focused on sports or other physical activities, but he always lost interest in them shortly after starting them, so he wasn’t released to the public until he was 20, when he had his first performance in a baseball game.

And didn’t show.

Instead, he wandered the Diamond district boredly, head in the clouds/

Missing shows became a common trend and, eventually, with his popularity rating hanging at a solid 0% for over a year, he was let go. Though, much to his annoyance, his old trainer still contacts him and shows up around him to make sure he’s staying out of trouble. He heard a rumor that his trainer actually quit so he could keep an eye on him, much to Yoshimoto’s annoyance.

Now, he lives, medication-free, in the Redlight district with a fellow failed idol, where he lives a free and troublesome life, and he’s the happiest he’s ever been. He works at a pachinko parlor as a trash collector, though he barely does his job and really only works there when he’s bored. He still lives a troublesome life, causing trouble and getting into messes, but he hasn’t killed anyone, and for that, his ex-trainer is grateful.

Stats: Public Popularity 0% | Single-handedly killed 7 Alpha guards | Stayed a 0% in the popularity polls for a year straight | Missed exactly 100 shows in a row