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janephillipsblog · 6 years ago

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The Further Education of a Rogue

The past six weeks have been a busy but fantastic leg on my journey as an actor. As well as volunteering for the One Yellow Rabbit High Performance Rodeo for most of January, I ushered for several other shows which also got me in to see them. “The Robber Bridegroom” with Jupiter Theatre - somehow there is something even more gruesome about the dismemberment and murder of a puppet on stage than the realistic killing and maiming found in horror movies. Very well done and a play that made you think about social attitudes to domestic violence. Then there was the very brilliant “Deathtrap” by Ira Levin with Vertigo Theatre that would make one scream with laughter one minute and scream with horror the next. Next was “Shakespeare in Love” with Morpheus Theatre which was wonderfully done and then there was “Boom X” written, directed and performed by the super talented Rick Miller for Theatre Calgary, which took us through the years of Generation X which is, of course, my generation. I also ushered for Neil Simon’s “Plaza Suite” for Simply Theatre, a classic play that I have never seen before. Again, very well done. I feel that watching as much live theatre as possible is incredibly valuable for anyone wanting to create within that medium. It inspires me for my acting and even for my future writing and directing.

Ushering for Boom X, Theatre: Calgary.

On the big screen I saw “The Upside” with Kevin Hart, Bryan Cranston and Nicole Kidman, which was good, and on the small screen, I am still working my way through “Orange is the New Black” as well as “The Office” (US version). I also saw “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri” starring Frances McDormand and Woody Harrelson, both favourite actors of mine. So good! I listened to several interviews with McDormand after watching that film as I wanted to learn more about her as an actor.

At the beginning of January, I started a six-week Essentials of Film and TV course with Company of Rogues Actors’ Studio (corogues.com), taught by Joe-Norman Shaw. In 2004, after about a year in Alberta, I took Scene Study I and II with Rogues. It was around that time that I had started to think of acting as more than a hobby, and a passion that could be developed. Both courses, one of which was taught by Stacie Harrison, who still teaches at the studio and whom I spent a day on set with on “Jann” back in September, were a really good experience for me. In both these courses, the students were paired up and given scenes to work on over the duration of the course, which allowed us to delve more deeply into a scene than would normally be the case for a community theatre production. The first session was with an instructor called Natasha who no longer works at the studio, but I will never forget how she told my partner and I that watching our scene (from Caryl Churchill’s “Top Girls”) was like watching “Coronation Street” which was to me, a big compliment. It was one of my favourite shows at the time and I’ve just started watching it again after a hiatus of many years. During Stacie’s class, I brought in long stem wine glasses for use in our scene from “Women of Manhattan” by John Patrick Shanley. Another group asked to borrow them and both ended up breaking during that scene (which was a couple fighting). Note to self: never use favourite items as props – I broke a tray that a friend had brought to a play to use as a prop last year. It was her mother’s and I am pretty sure that that incident has not endeared me or community theatre in general to her mother!

Essentials of Film and TV was different in that it focused on the audition aspect in the film and television world, however we also did discuss working in the industry as well as acting in general. For the most part, each week we were given sides of a scene from a movie to work on with a partner for the next week and then would have a bit of time in class to work on the scene together before it was presented in front of the rest of the class and videoed with each partner acting as the reader for the other one. For one class we had to do cold reads and were given about 20 minutes to prepare and for the last class, it was set up like a real audition with sides provided just a couple of days ahead of time and audition times given. We could not prepare with a partner and none of us got to watch others audition. It certainly felt like a real audition to me despite knowing that it was the last class of a six-week course! I felt that I really improved my audition techniques over the course, even learning to use a chair or water bottle appropriately in the audition room (as that is all that there often is to help set the scene). We had been provided a handout for Uta Hagen’s Six Steps with questions to be answered for the character and the scene. I have started to use this for every character I get to portray in an audition including ones for my theatre monologues. It works. I had the opportunity to practice with two film auditions in January (one being a self-tape) and felt a lot more confident in how I presented myself in an audition. The best take-aways from the class (other than the experience and practice) were to enjoy the journey and to not worry about the outcome of auditions too much as at the end of the day it is about whether an actor’s essence fits the part – apparent when we watched several people do the same scene. All in all, the Rogues’ Essentials of Film and TV, as with any of the courses offered by the studio in general, is a safe place for an actor to develop skills and to practice their craft.

I had my first professional theatre audition with Vertigo Theatre at the end of January. I had submitted my résumé and headshot, but it was still quite a surprise to get an invite to their general auditions in my junk mail one afternoon! I had to prepare two contrasting monologues. The day of auditions, I had already taken the day off work to attend a volunteer orientation session with AARCS as a cat caregiver and chose to go riding prior to that in the morning. I recited my monologues as I drove in the car including reciting them backwards. I am glad I wasn’t at the office as at least riding and AARCS took my mind off what felt like impending doom. By the time I was getting ready to go I was turning into a bit of basket-case - I suddenly couldn’t stand my own company. I was afraid that I would dawdle and be late. I dropped my keys as I was heading out the door, fumbling to pick them up as I juggled my purse and water bottle. (Incidentally, it was the same the morning of the mock auditions for the Rogues class, adding to it, the fact that I dropped my change for parking when getting out of the car on that day!) I took the train downtown and headed to the audition venue, second-guessing myself on its exact location. I headed inside the building and up the elevator and then down the longest corridor ever or so it seemed. I was early and I noticed that the two people that had signed in ahead of me had been in “Spamalot” with me in the fall – a lot of people I know got auditions with Vertigo and Theatre Calgary this year. Soon enough it was my turn. After a brief chat with the panel of two it was time to do my monologues. The first one was Katherine’s speech from Shakespeare’s “Henry VIII”. I honestly don’t know what came out of my mouth for the first couple of lines. I told myself to get a grip and continue and I think I recovered ok. Hopefully it looked better than it felt! The second monologue was Rivka’s opening monologue from “In the Cards” by Caroline Russell-King. It went as well as it ever has. I was sat in a chair and crossed my legs for the most part, however when I uncrossed them, my right leg just shook and vibrated (why couldn’t it have done that when needed in last year’s “Wake in the West”?). After, I sat down for another chat with the audition panel who explained that once the season for next year was announced there would be auditions for specific shows and I could let them know if I was interested in auditioning for any of the roles and that they would let me know if they wanted to see me for anything as well. So it wasn’t so bad after all!

This past week, I took a three-day Stunt Combat Workshop with Adrian Young of AY Action Services. It was an intensive, but fun and rewarding three days. When I joined ACTRA last summer I was asked to fill out a form if I was interested in doing stunts, something I hadn’t really thought about before. This wouldn’t get me stunt work but it would add me to the list of people interested in pursuing the work – it is a hard segment of the industry to get into. The workshop sounded useful, appealing and boundary pushing and so I signed up. It did not disappoint. The first day was mostly unarmed fight choreography and I was able to utilize techniques I learnt many years ago during Tae Kwon Do and the workouts at Canuckles MMA (RIP Max Marin), though I have to get used to “cheating” my hits for camera rather than just almost making contact. I also learnt how to do sit falls as well as forward tumbles. It was an intensive day and I was exhausted by the time I got home, at which time I had a hot bath right away. The next day we added fake handguns to the mix and learnt disarming techniques. We started to put together some fight choreography which we would include in an action sequence for our demo reel to be shot the next day where would we would each get to be the hero. That day finished with wire pulls where the stunt person would be pulled back on a wire into a fall as they were “kicked” or “punched” back. I didn’t feel ready to try this technique myself and so I just watched (as a few of us did). The final day was super fun as we shot our action sequence. I felt that it was a good simulation of a day on set for an action film and I did truly feel like I was either in a video game or an action star. It was a fantastic workshop and once again a safe environment as each participant was able to just participate in the activities they were comfortable with, though there were plenty of opportunities to push personal physical boundaries.

Striking a pose at the Stunt Combat workshop with AY Action Services

We started rehearsals for Gilbert & Sullivan’s “Princess Ida” with Morpheus Theatre at the end of January and it is coming along, though still in its early stages. The show goes up in April. I also auditioned for “The Wedding Singer” this weekend with Front Row Centre. If I get into that show, it will be a very busy Spring for me that’s for sure!

#actorslife #theatre #stuntwoman

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radiantepoch · 3 years ago

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Radiant Epoch: Chapter 27 - Tyce

“You know, I can't think of too many guys who'd fight off a fearsome beast to get flowers for his girlfriend” said Sophia from behind the lantern leading Tyce.

Tyce turned his head around, almost as if he were an owl. A cheerful grin had grown across his face. Despite his turned head, Tyce's feet continued their trek forward without missing a beat.

“In fairness, I had no idea that thing was down here! I might have had second thoughts had I known!”

After returning his head to face back in front of him, Tyce let out a booming laugh than rang throughout the cavern. The sheer joy he absorbed from the completion of their successful mission was palpable. He felt truly triumphant. The once mysterious and intimidating cavern had completely lost its sense of danger now that he and Sophia had proven victorious over their trial.

“Fair enough. But still, what you did back there was really impressive.”

“Thanks,” said Tyce, taking the commentary at face value.

Sophia smiled softly. Her attempts at making conversation with Tyce on their return trip had mostly followed a singular pattern. First, Sophia would initiate discussion with some kind of commentary. Second, Tyce would retort with a friendly yet quick response. Then, after his response, the conversation would immediately cease, allowing the lingering sounds of the drips and drops of the underground to fill the empty silence. But Sophia didn't mind. If anything, Tyce's honest nature made her feel more comfortable, and any gaps in the conversation felt like a distilled essence of truth. Rather than continuing on and on in a long-winded fashion, Tyce practiced brevity for no other reason than because it was his natural state of being, and Sophia appreciated how true he was to himself. Tyce was honest and real, and it had been far too long since Sophia had participated in a real conversation.

“You know, it's funny. You and Lyra have been friends for the longest time and everyone in the village always thought you two would make such a cute couple. It always seemed inevitable,” said Sophia wistfully.

“Huh? Seriously?”

Tyce had never once thought about an inevitable romantic relationship with Lyra. In fact, Tyce hadn't even considered the prospect of such a thing until that night at the waterfall. Before that, he viewed Lyra largely the same way he viewed Geneon; they were his best friends. A best friend occupied an important place in one's heart to be sure, and while he certainly found Lyra more pleasant to look at than Geneon, the idea of romantically pursuing her had never arisen within him. Tyce found it odd that the townsfolk had, unbeknownst to him, been talking among themselves about the obviousness of that kind of relationship between him and Lyra given that he had been completely oblivious to the possibility.

“Then, when it finally happened, it felt a little surreal,” Sophia continued. “It's like how everyone in the village believes in angels, but when you finally see one, well, I guess there's nothing that could prepare you for it, right? Even if you spend your whole life believing, when it finally happens, it truly is unbelievable.”

Tyce didn't know how quite to respond to Sophia's musings. He hadn't thought much of angels either. The concept of faith in unseen forces was something he realized he had no true familiarity with, at least within the recesses of his own heart. To him, the world was always as it appeared to be at that exact moment. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“Tyce, have you ever wondered what your life would be like if the two of you had never met?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” asked Tyce, perplexed by the question.

“I'm sorry, that came out weirder than I meant it to,” replied Sophia apologetically. “I mean...Have you ever wondered what things would be like if one of you had been born in a different village? How differently both of your lives would have turned out?”

Tyce put his lantern-free hand to his chin as he briefly pondered his response.

“Not really, no,” he answered swiftly. “I don't really see the point in thinking about “what ifs”. Things are the way they are.”

Sophia smiled softly. A slight tinge of sadness began to creep over her face.

“That's probably the smart thing to do. I guess I just can't help myself.”

Tyce stopped in his tracks. Even he could notice the sudden shift in the tone of her voice. When he turned around and was confronted by her sad smile, Tyce knew that something inside of her had shifted. What it was, exactly, he had no idea.

“Sophia?”

The smile on Sophia's face continued to grow sadder. Though it seemed like she was fighting to maintain a veneer of optimism, the descent seemed inevitable. She attempted to speak but choked on her words, unable to formulate the right syllables. Instead a meek croak exited from her throat. After a quick cough, she was finally able to formulate her thoughts into words.

“Sometimes I think about what life would be like if the war never happened,” said Sophia softly. “I really love my Aunt Josie and Uncle Robb. They're the perfect parents. But I often wonder how I would have gotten on with my mom and dad. How they would have raised me differently. What kind of relationship we'd have if they were alive today...”

Tyce was silent. He didn't know what to say.

“I always heard about how vibrant and full of life they were. They were rebellious and feisty, always getting into and causing trouble, according to my aunt and uncle. If they were the ones to raise me, I wonder if I would have turned out more like them. Less demure. More of a rebel. I wonder if I'd even be the same person at all..”

Sophia looked up at the roof of the cavern with glazed eyes. Though her body remained with Tyce in the underground walkway, her mind and spirit had gone elsewhere.

“You know, sometimes I have dreams about it. About a world where Hafen never took over our lands. In my dreams I keep seeing this boy. Beautiful and handsome. I don't know who he is, but I often see him helping out his father in the market. Like his son, I don't recognize him either. I wonder if his father died in the war and that's why the boy was never born.”

“The boy in your dream?” asked a perplexed Tyce.

“Right,” said Sophia with a nod. She brought her gaze down t Tyce's eyes, returning from wherever she had ventured off to. “I dream about a boy who never existed. It's absurd, isn't it? But think of how many children never got the chance to be born because of that war. All those hopes and dreams, never getting a chance to exist in the first place because of imperial ambitions. I just wonder...There are those who believe that every person has one soulmate...But I wonder if my soulmate was never born...and if he was never born, it makes me wonder what he would have been like if he was born....I know it's a silly thought. Do you believe in fate, Tyce? Destiny?”

“I dunno. I haven't really thought about it,” replied Tyce truthfully.

“Really?” asked a shocked Sophia.

“Yeah. I'm not sure it really matters, though,” said Tyce as he turned around to kick a pebble.

“How so?” questioned a genuinely curious Sophia.

“If that stuff is real, and we're all slaves to fate and destiny,” said Tyce as he put his hands behind his head, “then there's no point in worrying about it because whatever is going to happen is going to happen. You have no control, so there's no point in trying to force things to happen if everything is preordained. If that fate and destiny and all that stuff isn't real, then there's no point in worrying about something that doesn't exist. Either way, it doesn't seem to matter, so you might as well go on living your life the way you want to.”

“Wow,” whispered an impressed Sophia. Though he had delivered his message with the same casual tone as discussing the weather or other such smalltalk, the profound nature of his musings touched Sophia in the core of her soul. The fact that Sophia also knew that Tyce himself didn't consider this way of thinking to be profound, but rather thought it natural and obvious, was another thing about him she deeply admired.

“You know, Tyce, you're a lot wiser than you look,” laughed Sophia.

“Thanks. I think?” replied Tyce quizzically.

“The exit's just up ahead,” said Sophia as she focused her gaze on the light from behind Tyce. “Let's get out of here.”

Tyce nodded with an enthusiastic smile. The two of them continued through the cavern, the light of day ever growing as they made their way out of the darkness.

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miu-paras · 5 years ago

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Lvl. 5 ⋮ Red // Chapter 4

September 20th, 2019. 2:00 AM. ♪ - Bourgeoisie / Crimson Throne

TW: blood, violence, body horror

Rael always smiled the hardest around Iannis kar Ulmervis.

Iannis… The inventor’s child.

They weren’t nearly as socially inept as their ima was. They moved and spoke and acted with all the elegance of a noble despite not coming from such a background. Their touch was as comforting as gentle ocean winds caressing the skin, and their voice as intoxicating as the sweet nectar of Maladian pine fruits. They were as sharp as their own ima, capable and full of wit. Always kept the Minister’s young successor on their toes. Rael never grew tired of them, never parted from them for too long, swore endlessly their devotion to them. Always at their beck and call.

“How disappointing.” Kalar voiced their disapproval aloud, but only to an audience of one. The Grand Minister had since retired to their quarters with Umvis after a less than enjoyable meeting with their advisory. Eshta, in a surprise to no one, was absent, with Iannis acting as a representative in their stead. Perhaps this delighted Rael, but Kalar had grown more than tired of the young future partisan’s unnecessary acerbity, especially when Kalar rightfully questioned their judgement. It was as if they enjoyed the sour glares that the Minister gave them, the broiling looks of disapproval.

The resentment that practically rolled off their skin.

Umvis observed Kalar’s frustration, and rather than offering sympathy, they merely chuckled. Kalar’s head quickly veered in their direction, hoping their piercing glare with silence their laughter. It didn’t, of course, and Umvis merely stared up at them with a kind smile.

“My dear… I’m starting to think you are merely looking for reasons to dislike the child simply because you are jealous.”

“I do not get jealous.” Kalar sneered, rolling their eyes to such an accusation. They turned their gaze away from Umvis, arms crossed and resting in their lap. Kalar would deny it for as long as they could, but if Umvis could see it, then they were far from hiding it well. Kalar had grown envious of Iannis’ connection with their child. However, it was not formed from some internalized parental instinct to protect and shield their children from the pain that existed in the world, from disappointment or heartbreak. No… Kalar simply disliked the idea of being replaced as the most important figure in Rael’s life. A loss of control�� that was something they couldn’t tolerate. Because as far as Kalar was concerned, no one was good enough to fill their shoes. Especially Eshta’s little harlot.

Umvis sensed their tension, and rather than running away from it like most would, they simply placed their hand over the folded one in Kalar’s lap. Kalar blinked, staring down at the gesture in surprise. The tension suddenly rolled off them in waves, warmth entering their expression. It was a rare sight, Kalar’s softer side. Very few were lucky enough to see it. But Umvis had always been good at breaking through Kalar’s resolutely built barriers. They have been the Minister’s longest friend, their greatest ally, the only one fully entrusted with their heart. Kalar may have thought themselves incapable of the emotion, but what they felt for Umvis truly was love. And even now, through all their pettiness, Umvis did not judge or berate them. Instead, they offered comfort and understanding.

Kalar wasted no more time on words. Instead, they repaid Umvis’ affection with their own. Kalar often wished they were born a Gris. They wanted to feel that powe, that fervent heat culminating in their chest, spreading across every inch of their skin in ripples of light and fire, at all times. But for now, this would suffice. To only feel such electricity in their quieter moments with Umvis… that was something they could live with.

It was later into the night now. Six moons hung in the sky, and Umvis had been worked into a deep slumber. Kalar was still awake, however. Kept up by something. Some voice, echoing in the back of their mind. It was not my voice, as I’d grown accustomed to falling silent at such an hour. It was another. One unfamiliar to me, and yet I recognized its essence somehow. And perhaps Kalar did too, because they sat and stared intently at something from across the room.

They stand and grab their robes, wrapping it around themselves as they traversed across the room, slowly and quietly as not to disturb their sleeping lover. As they moved closer to a tapestry closest to the door, the voice grew louder. It was more incumbering than before. As if willing Kalar forward. As if pushing them. Commanding them.

Kalar paused before the tapestry, hesitating to pull it aside until the voice was booming. Kalar winced, as if the noise only present to them was palpable to all, loud and unbearable. It’s then that they were quick to lift the tapestry, revealing a small cubby, hidden away from sight. It was kept there, among old books and trinkets. Among the few remnants of their late ima Salas Kalar had managed to save.

It was the small, steel box that carried the inventor’s discovery. It was the sh—[MEMORY REDACTED].

How did it get here… Eshta was meant to be studying the artifact—

[MEMORY REDACTED]

Kalar lifted the lid, pulling the [MEMORY REDACTED] from its containment. It was only then that the voices became quieter, more soothing. A small, yet melodic rumble against the eardrum. The Minister fell to their knees, holding the artifact close to their chest, eyes fixated on its pulsating glow.

Suddenly, the voices amplified itself again, and Kalar gasped, holding the [MEMORY REDACTED] out before them, staring deeply into its center. The words come more clearly to them this time. Words that could be understood. Directions that could be followed.

[MEMORY REDACTED]

It does not speak to me. Only to my tsanagar. A riddle in three parts. A destiny with three steps. A cycle, with a beginning, an end, a renewal.

Kalar whispers the first out loud.

“The Transgressor perishes…”

[MEMORY REDACTED]

Many hours have passed, but the night was still young. And something ominous hung in the air.

Kalar was no longer in their quarters. They stood in another’s bedroom. The chambers of ima Malvas, who was just abruptly awakened from their sleep by their child’s surprise visit.

“Y-you—” Malvas coughed violently, the fit continuing as they sat more upright, old bones trembling as they attempted to do so. “We are in the middle of civil war… of social unrest… And yet, you c-come in here… speaking your nonsense again… you’re as… senseless as your f-fucking ima…”

Kalar, who stared out into the night sky, simply turned to face the old ruler, a gentle smile painted on their face. “Oh, ima…” They approached the bed, arms crossed behind their back as their expression remained as is. Malvas seemed more nervous, more thrown off by this. Kalar’s face appeared gentle, but their stance was menacing as they glowered down at their parent, who looked small and frail by comparison. Something Kalar had never seen in their childhood. It was a sight they could get used to.

“I have never been senseless. You never raised me that way,” their smile grew wider now. “In fact, I feel more enlightened than ever.”

“Then you truly are a fool,” Malvas spat back. “If you’ve come to spout your usual insults, then—” Another loud wheeze, “—then be out with it and be on your way. I tire… and you should too.”

“Is it hard to believe that I came here because I miss you?” Kalar eyed them with a quirked brow.

“You have never held such affections for me in your heart before, Grand Minister,” they responded, uttering the title with such contempt in their voice, to which Kalar only sighs and glances back to the open window.

“I have grown tired of hate,” they state plainly, eyes turning back to their ima, “Now, I only feel what is necessary… something you will never understand. Because that’s all you are. Hate. There’s nothing else to you. Nothing else inside you. Not love… not joy… not even avarice or pride...” Kalar’s features darkened, taking two steps forward so they were practically hovering above Malvas.

“…You are nothing but the worst parts of me.”

Kalar reached forward to carefully place a hand on their ima’s chest, only to force them on to their back once more. Malvas gasped, attempting to fight against the iron grip. But they are weak. Centuries old while Kalar is in their prime. Stronger, cleverer, more powerful than they had ever been.

“You look tired, Ima…” Kalar’s grip tightened around the fabric of their nightclothes, nails digging into the skin as Malvas fought harder, gasping and frantically clawing at their arm. Too frail to pull it away. Too lost for breath to scream.

“Let me give you rest.”

It felt as though the room was shaking. As if the earth quaked and rumbled beneath us, ready to swallow us whole. There is terror in Malvas’ eyes, and a joy so unsettling residing in Kalar’s.

They held it in their hand. The [MEMORY REDACTED]

[MEMORY REDACTED]

Blood puckers from Kalar’s fingers and around the edges where she held it, violet liquid streaking across its crystalline form. The power hurts them. Scars them. They bleed heavily, no matter how much I heal the wounds.

[MEMORY REDACTED]

Malvas shakes, convulses. Limbs contort. The voices speak louder and louder, echoing off the chamber walls

THE TRANGRESSOR PERISHES… THE TRANSGRESSOR PERISHES…

[MEMORY REDACTED]

There is a balance to everything…

[MEMORY REDACTED]

Malvas’ body was found the next morning, encased in a massive cocoon of hardened crystal. Their body twisted and pulled apart in a way too grotesque for any to look upon.

But Kalar was not found by their ima’s bed.

Instead they were by Umvis, who was found with their limbs stretched, coiled, and wrapped around their body. Their face unrecognizable. Their mangled body entrapped in that same crystalline coffin.

And Kalar does nothing but cry. Cry and wail from a pain that not even I could heal.

The voice comes again, still speaking its next commands.

[MEMORY REDACTED]

There is a balance to everything. A push and pull. An ebb and flow.

One and two, becomes three. The third holds the power in the end.

The third… the third...

[ It’s time to wake up. ]

The drug is called mhiconnia. Colloquially, it’s referred to as Storm’s Tears.

It’s a hallucinogen originally manufactured in Llarnis, and eventually made its way over to Nuva, no doubt through underground trading. Its silver, glittering appearance hides its true nature as a mind-altering intoxicant, one that triggers a state of instant euphoria. The high eventually fades, however, and leaves you in a state of numbness, mindlessness, and low energy that can last for several hours, days, or even months depending on how much one is exposed to. It’s meant to leave the user with nothing but a numbed mind and happy memories, leaving them ignorant and vulnerable the world around them as they dance and sway in a state of utter bliss. That’s what makes it so incredibly dangerous: the perfect ingredient for an empty-headed minion, one that can’t fight back and never says no.

I’m sure this is what Pixul intended for me. To keep me as ignorant and agreeable as possible, for as long as possible, until she needed to “sedate” me again. To make me forget the ways in which she manipulated me, to have me produce whatever it was she and her connections needed while I simply nodded and worked away as if nothing was wrong.

However, a hole existed in her plan: I was of two minds. One of which was not affected by her special little drug at all.

She didn’t count on Red.

They were the reason I remembered what happened that night, and the only reason I knew anything about Storm’s Tears. All because Red went on long tirades about my carelessness nearly every day since our return.

Granted, I’d be pretty mad at me too.

{ How many times do I have to say it before you believe me? I’m sorry. } I sighed again, firing another arrow at the practice target, adjusting the shooting glove on my hand before pulling another arrow from the quiver at my side. Archery seemed to be the best release of my frustration these days. That, and violent video games. Though I found myself coming to the shooting range more often than usual. It appears shooting things in real life was just as good at relieving my tension.

[ I’ll believe your apology once you’ve handled the problem. ]

{ The problem is handled. I had a fuck ton of that Storm’s Tears shit in my system. She probably still thinks I’m high right now. And when she gets here? We’ll take her by surprise and beat her ass. }

[ Uh huh… the same way you beat Xhen’s ass? ]

{ No, the same way I was able to escape the fucking Process. What the hell, I thought you believed in me... }

[ I’m starting to question whether I was in my right mind when I said that. ]

Grumbling, I nocked another arrow and roughly fired at the target. The arrow hits closer to the center than before, but still a ways off, causing me to sigh heavily again.

[ You hate to hear it, but it is true. Pixul is the type of person that always thinks ahead, while you merely think on a whim, which you clearly showcased that night. You were naïve, inattentive, and too quick to trust. You followed Pixul onto that dancefloor without considering the potential repercussions. ]

{ The repercussions of dancing? }

[ Of dropping your guard with a stranger, of which we now know is heavily involved in black market trading and gang wars, and made it easy for them to take advantage of you. If you’d taken the time to read their behavior, to think through your actions, we would not be in this position. ]

I raised my bow and took aim, but the way Red’s words hit me caused hesitation. My hands trembled, biting my lip as I struggled to maintain a steady grasp. Every part of me was shaking with anger. Not at Red despite how they ripped through me, but at myself. Angry at how stupid I’d acted. Sure, I could blame it on the fact that it was nearly 2AM and half my brain seemed to cease all matter of function when sleep deprived, but that was an even weaker excuse. I was to blame. My own carelessness did this. My own shortsightedness. My lack of understanding—true understanding—of the type of person Pixul was.

And now I’m lucky enough to have a chance at correcting those mistakes. The chance to catch Pixul off her guard. The chance to beat her fucking face in…

And I can’t. Because now there is exist something—someone—that complicates everything.

Iannis. Yet another Camerian lucky enough to survive the Process’ massacre.

They were Eshta’s child, meaning they had close ties with Kalar, considering they were an important figure in their courts. More importantly, they had even closer ties with my mother. Romantic ties. The very image of them together, happy and at peace, swam through my head ever since the memory surfaced. Their life together was destroyed, dead along with the rest of Camer. And even though they were still alive… they were worlds apart from one another.

I couldn’t just leave them there.

The trembling spread throughout my whole body now, making aiming an even more trying task. Defeated, I dropped my arms, tossing the arrow back into the quiver as I let out a frustrated sigh. I went and sat on the benches along the border of the training room, head resting against the wall as I breathed out heavily, blowing a stray hair away from my face. I never liked feeling stupid, or being bested either. And it didn’t help my self-esteem to be reminded that both the things I dreaded so much happened to me a month ago. All of which I still had to deal with now.

The urge to just sigh and give up on all of this, to run away from it, to hide from it, was felt so strongly within me. But hiding wouldn’t end things. It wouldn’t stop Pixul from coming for me. It wouldn’t stop Iannis from existing. It certainly wouldn’t make Red think of me as anything other than a coward.

No… I had to own up to my mistakes. Face them head-on. Running wasn’t the Miu way. And it never will be.

I stood up and treaded across the room to grab another arrow from the quiver, twirling it in my hand as I stared down the bullseye across from me. { I have a plan… }

[ Do you? ]

{ Yes... one that will get us back to Iannis and revenge on Pixul. But it will require us to be more… covert. }

I nocked the arrow and raised my bow as I aimed it towards the target. Without hesitation this time, I sent the arrow flying. A spark of hope shot through me seeing the arrow land centimeters away from the center. It wasn’t exact, but it was close enough to revel in the wave of pride that washed over me.

[ Getting better. ]

I shrugged, smiling at the compliment.

[ Your plan… what does it involve exactly? And how do we know Pixul won’t be prepared for it? ]

{ Because it involves giving Pixul exactly what she wants… }

I nocked another arrow, eyeing the bullseye with intent, with a burgeoning desire for success. I let my arrow fly, grinning as the tip pierced the small, black center.

{ Someone ready and willing. }

I was quite the fan of glitter. It was easy to tell from the amount of makeup I owned that all glittered, shimmered, or dazzled in some way. Sparkling eyeshadow, lip gloss, and blush were all applied messily and heavily to my face. I kept my hair as disheveled as possible, clothes ragged and loose. I wanted the appearance that Pixul most expected. The one of a mindless zombie. One who’d been waiting around for weeks without the motivation to so much as leave their bed. The empty-headed minion she wanted.

Hours of waiting followed. I sat cross-legged on my couch in that time, aimlessly staring at the TV and idly petting my dogs as they came and went. I even practiced my mannerisms. I slouched heavily, dragged my feet as I walked, tilted my head back and forth and side-to-side as if I were struggling to keep it in place. Anything that made my feigned Tears-induced stupor seem more believable.

At some point I figured Pixul must be waiting until it was late like last time, an assumption that was confirmed once the darkness of night rolled in. It was maybe 11:30 PM now. Some melodramatic show was playing on the TV at a low volume, and my dogs had all but passed out now. It was then that I heard loud whizzing noise that the transporter produced, followed by a thud as their heavy feet hit the roof and another as they jumped down.

I prepared myself, slouching, staring at the screen with the deadest look in my eyes. Even Red, despite not needing to be, was silent.

They fiddled with the knob for some time. I could hear the tools twisting and prodding in the keyhole until the lock was undone. The door swung open slowly, and I stilled myself in response. The ghostly sounds of midnight air swirling from outside were accompanied by heavy footsteps, making their way slowly into my home. Closer and closer they came, walking around the living room to find nothing but pillows, blankets, and clothing thrown around. Mess from candy wrappers, snack crumbs, and a half-eaten slice of cake left on a saucer. Then there was me, sitting silently among the chaos, a dazed look in my eyes, eyes that slowly rolled to meet Pixul’s striking gaze and amused smirk.

“Told you she’d still be here.” Her eyes flickered towards the second figure standing adjacent to her, of whom I assumed had to be her companion from her last visit.

“Still. She should have been monitored.” Taz stated plainly, confirming their presence.

Pixul rolled her eyes as she leaned down towards me. Grabbing my face in her hands, she inspected me over. I hardly reacted, allowing her to turn my head and regard my expression until they were satisfied. With a hum, she released me, glancing over at Taz with a raised brow.

“See? Still under the spell. She’s not even moving…” Pixul began snapping her fingers close to my ear. The sound almost makes me jump, but luckily I maintained my unresponsive state. Pixul shrugged and gave up with an even wider smile. Even Taz is satisfied, letting out a small humph before leaning forward to lift me roughly by my hoodie.

I let out a sharp gasp as I’m yanked away from my spot on the couch, stumbling as I try to regain my footing. Pixul snorted at my efforts, while Taz simply held me in place, their face as unchanging as mine.

Pixul’s hands find my chin again, turning my face to look at her. In her free hand, she carried a small vial of glittering dust, shimmering and glowing as she shook it.

Storm’s Tears.

“If you’re good, I’ll give you some more, okay?” Her grin was stretched across her face now. “Unless you want some now… that’ll put you in a good mood, yeah?”

I tensed. I wanted to run. To kick, to fight, to do anything other than be sedated by that stuff again. But that would blow my cover, and possibly push me further away from Iannis. A fight isn’t what we needed right now. I’d have to stay put… no matter what happened.

Pixul could sense my tension. I could tell from the way her brow quirked at the sudden tightening of my jaw under her grasp. And perhaps she interpreted it as an eagerness to snatch the vial away from her rather than fear, because rather than blowing it in my face, she simply laughed at me and shoved it back in her pocket.

“I knew that’d excite you! Now let’s get out of this… dump,” she stated, giving the room one last look of disgust before draping an arm loosely over my shoulder and pulling out her transporter. I quickly glance over at the transporter’s screen to read the blinking icon in the corner. There were two charges left. One to get us there.

And another to get Iannis and I back.

Pixul’s thumb pressed down on the button, and suddenly we’re surged forward by that powerful force, pulling us rapidly through space in time until our feet hit the ground half a second later. I looked around to take in the familiar neon lights that flooded the busy streets of Gan’em, then turned around to face the towering structure that spelled out the name of Pixul’s club in bright Talurian lettering.

I gulped, and without warning I was being pushed from behind by Taz, the both of us following Pixul inside. She waved off the security as we made our entrance, greeted yet again by the sight of raving clubbers under a shower of Tears, booming music and flashing lights, a crowded bar, levels upon levels of people dancing, drinking, and lounging around with expensive potions and shots as they watched the chaos unfold around them.

I’m pulled away from all of it. Instead, I’m dragged onto an elevator, standing quietly between my two captors as we’re rapidly transported to the top floor. I’m led down another hallway walls after, then another, until we reached a room with two heavy doors at the end. The guards waiting on each side push them open once they saw Pixul approaching. It was like another VIP room, much larger than the one from last time. It was a stark contrast to the brightly lit, crimson red corridors from before. The room was dim, safe for the neon lights that trimming the ceiling, floors, and furniture. Couches were stretched across every wall, with other comfortable seating circled across several tables found in various spaces in the room.

“Fuck… Vex isn’t here yet.” Pixul sighed, placing her hand on her hips as she glanced down at me. “Put her over there,” she nodded in another direction, “There’s a few things we can still go over before the meeting.”

Taz nodded once, then dragged me over to one of the couches in the corner of the room, tossing me down without an ounce of care before making their way over to Pixul. They mumbled quietly to each other. I tried hard to listen in, but to no avail. They were too far away, and I was too distracted by the gaudiness of this room to focus on anything else.

Instead, I closed my eyes and focused on the things around me. The very energy in this room. The lights, the bar, the electricity that ran through the walls. I extended my focus past the room, my connection going as far as the entire level, then the many other levels below us. Every mechanical whirl and hiss and hum, every electrical volt, every piece of living, working technology I could feel heavily within me. Most were familiar things: the neon lights, the booming speakers from downstairs, the technicolored dancefloor. But there was something… peculiar coming from the outside. Something attached to the side of the building, giving off pulsating signals that were alien to me. I investigated further, reaching along the sides of the tower and tracing every inch for anything giving off a similar feel.

I counted twelve of them.

{ Red… do you know what that is? Something outside… transmitting some kind of signal. }

[ Mm… the sensation is familiar to me. If I had to guess, my first assumption would be deadzoners. ]

I tilted my head slightly { I think Pixul mentioned something about… ‘deadzone tech’? What is it used for… }

[ The Nuvassi government has an… interesting way of tracking criminal activity. Upon release from detention, felons are forcefully implanted with a chip at the base of their skulls. This allows for investigators to monitor all manner of brain activity. Whatever the recipient sees, thinks, feels, even tastes… officials take record of it. Any sign of suspicious activity will trigger the attention of the Vaanen, Nuva’s police force. ]

{ So… I’m guessing the deadzoners block transmissions from the chips? }

[ Not just block. The transmission is altered completely. Rather than create a blindspot for the government, deadzoners send back false information that do not arouse suspicion. In this case, it makes it seem as though only engaging in docile activities that are within the confines of the law. ]

{ Which would essentially make Pixul’s club a safe zone for Nuva’s underground? }

[ Precisely. ]

I was sitting up now, the information being more than intriguing. I looked over to see if I’d caught the attention of anyone, but no one seemed to be concerned with me. Pixul and Taz continued to talk, clearly about something serious. The bartender merely tended to the sleek counter of the bar. No one so much as glanced in this direction.

Realizing there wasn’t any amount of attention on me, I pulled my legs close to my chest and rested my head against my knees. My eyes fluttered close once more, and I began searching for that signal again. Searching through the millions and millions of electrical impulses spread throughout the building until I found that same device, in all 12 spots. I focused harder, straining and pulling at that energy as I attempted to control it. The circuits came to me one by one, impulse by impulse. The transmission slowly began to form clearly in my mind. And once it did… I shut it off. One by one, I took out each deadzoner, forcing my authority over it until it was no more. Until that transmission ceased in its function.

Pixul’s safe haven wasn’t so safe anymore.

I lifted my head to find Pixul and Taz, their serious conversation now seemingly more flirtatious.

“I need to use the restroom,” I said out loud, perhaps the first words I’d spoken all day.

Pixul paused, and at first she looked annoyed. But suddenly her face contorted into something else. Less annoyed, more… apprehensive.

She left Taz at the bar and made her way towards me. She stopped an inch short of me, looking down with a pensive stare. I was beginning to think that maybe she was seeing through my act now.

She crouched down, sighing as she reached into her pocket again to retrieve the vial of Storm’s Tears. I went tense again and she took note of it, probably knowing this time that it was indeed fear.

Her eyes flickered up to me as the corner of her lips curled into a small smirk, “You wanna go look for your friend?”

I went still, unable to utter a single rebuttal, the iciness of her words creeping over my skin in a slow-building sheet of frost. I desperately kept thinking of what to say, of what to do. I couldn’t keep my act up when was so clearly starting to see through it.

Pixul harshly grabbed my face again and snatched me forward, popping off the top of the vial with her thumb as she held it up to my face. “Maybe you need a little more, yeah?” Her smirk stretched into a grin. I strained against her grasp, but it was hardly of any use. Pixul was strong, carrying the same Talurian strength I’d seen in Xhen. No amount of struggle would help.

“Just… breath in,” she uttered softly.

This was it. I was going to have to fight my way out of here. To find Iannis as fast as I could and go. I could feel the spark in my chest, the building electricity crawling its way through my veins. I was ready. I was—

“Pixul!”

The sudden exclamation came from the worker bursting through the door, clearly out of breath with a look of urgency written all over their face. Pixul released me in response, head whirling around to meet the source of the sound. The annoyed look was back again, and I felt the power that quelled within me suddenly dissipate as a result of the distraction.

“What is it now?” She shouted back.

“Vex! He’s here…”

The annoyed expression was replaced with the same urgency as the other, as Pixul immediately lifted me from my seat and pulled me to the center of the room. Taz met us there, pulling a heavy metal chair closely behind them. Pixul shoved me in it, and Taz began restraining my wrists and hands completely in heavy metal cuffs attached to each side.

“To keep you from flying off, love.” Pixul simpered, looking pleased with herself as she turned her attention back to the open doors.

I couldn’t see who was coming down the hallway from where I was sitting, but I could hear the cacophony of footsteps, getting louder and louder and they approached the room, the chiming of dangling chains, the heavy grunts, the squeaking of leather garments and shoes. It wasn’t until they’d finally entered, Pixul greeting them warmly and with a wide smile, all while ordering one of the staff to light up the room more, that I got a better look at Vex and his cohorts.

Three of the men were tall and burly, metal lining their muscular arms and down their torso. They appeared Talurian, judging from the ornate, purple marking along their face. Most of their bodies were made up of cybernetics, which I could tell from the strong electrical fields they emitted.

Another was far more ostentatiously dressed than any of the others. His clothes were covered in spikes and stickers, so much that you couldn’t see the actual fabric of the clothing. His face was covered with bandages, ears pierced heavily and decorated with dangling gems and metals. A thick, heavy shackle was fitted around his neck, laced with a golden chain. His hair was electric blue, much like the ends of Pixul’s, shaven down at the sides and kept in two loose braids that rested on either side of him. From the hair to his clothes to his piercing white eyes, it’d be hard to miss him in the biggest crowd.

Then there was Vex, whose appearance was far more simplistic than any of the people accompanying him. He wore simple black pants with a matching robe, crisp and fitted, that reached his knees. His skin and hair were a pale, almost ash gray color, and his eyes were a piercing, vibrant blue. He had this striking, yet regal air to him. Carrying himself with as much confidence as I’d seen Kalar have in my dreams.

[ Hm, a Vanossi. Interesting. ]

{ A Vano..ssi…? }

[ They’re a race from the north. The Camerians thought them frail and cowardly. Which most of them are. But perhaps the Vanossi in Nuva are different. They’d have to be, considering the trial it is to escape their country. ]

{ …Escape?! }

[ It is a cursed land… the skies infested with Stormers. This Vex figure must be quite brave to make the trip. And survive, no less... ]

{ Uh huh… I guess we’ll see. }

Vex entered last, and following him was a figure completely unlike the rest. Nothing like anyone I’d encountered in my time on this planet. A tall, lumbering figure, almost as wide as the double-door entrance, and so tall they needed to duck to get inside. Their form was fully cloaked in a rugged, black clothes and thick, heavy gloves. Ghostly, incorporeal shadows weaved around their limbs, torso, and head. A threatening figure, surrounded by a cloud of darkness that moved with them as they followed Vex inside, standing ominously still while a single vermillion-colored eye peered back at me from the empty void of their hooded visage.

[ Oh… ] Red practically whispered the word, which made me even more nervous.

{ What kind of Ulterian is that…? }

[ That is not an Ulterian. And we should be quiet. ]

As if I wasn’t already scared…

Vex sat across from me in the center of one of the couches, the rest of his party gathered around him. All except for the gaudier henchman, of whom I’d silently decided to nickname Spike, who stood in a corner, leaning against the wall with crossed legs and arms.

Vex sat cross legged as well, perfectly still as they eyed me up and down. His gaze flickered back and forth between me and Pixul, but for the most part his attention was on me. I’d be lying if I said his examination, couple with the unsettling glances of his cohorts, were anything less than unnerving.

“So… is this the Camerian you spoke of?” Vex finally spoke up, eyes settled on Pixul. She looked almost as uncomfortable as I did. Perhaps due to the shadowy figure’s presence, or because of how less than impressed Vex seemed to be.

“Uh… yes. She’s the one that assembled the hildar. The one Xhen told me about?”

“Hm…” Vex groaned heavily, standing now as he approached me slowly but still keeping a healthy distance. His eyes roamed every inch of me from head to toe, which didn’t help at all in lowering the absolute creep-factor of this whole situation.

“It doesn’t look like a Camerian…”

…It?

“I think she’s half-Terran,” Pixul added, eyes blinking back and forth between me and the taller Vanossi. She looked visibly nervous now, and it wasn’t hard to read why.

“A mixed breed…” Vex’s face contorted into a look of disgust. He turned back to me now, waving me off with dismissal. As if rejecting some unwanted gift. A worthless… thing.

The more he talked, the angrier I felt myself getting.

“It is as useless to me in my endeavors as you Nuvassi folk. I thought you meant a purebred… perhaps if we can find the parent—”

“I built that bomb from scratch. I wasn’t so useless to you then. When I helped Xhen after they failed you.”

My sudden outburst caused the Vanossi leader to stop in the tracks, their head veering in my direction as their intense gaze pierced straight through me. He moved closer, his tall, lanky form leaning down so his eyes were at level with mine.

“If my intel is correct, Terran… Xhen failed in their mission because of you. Your… infernal curiosity led to the delay in my shipment. And now, what? You think yourself special? Important? No… you are here to correct a wrong. To pay the toll for your mistakes. And you will do so under my mandate.”

I met his eyes with just as much intensity, refusing to let myself seem weak and naïve again. Refusing to be taken advantage of.

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told your friend…” I leaned forward, sitting up as much as my shackles would allow, “I don’t work for anybody. You want my shit? You earn it. And you’re an even bigger idiot if you think I, or my ima for that matter, would work for a feeble Vanossi runaway like you.”

[ Oh my… ]

I watched as the glint of anger sparked in his eyes, his gaze hardened and narrowing as he pulled away, looming down at me with absolute disdain. “What is your name, Camerian?”

Pixul, now racked with anxiety after seeing the situation escalate to such a point, finally spoke up, “She goes by Mi—”

“I am Cira nu Aedonnoe,” I interrupted. There was no need to elaborate further on my heritage, judging from the utter shock that immediately flooded his features. My family name was one that clearly spoke for itself. Even many years after Urrali, the Aedonnoe legacy was still one of reverence and infamy. A legacy I had no problem using to intimidate my enemies.

But the intimidation didn’t last as long as I’d hoped, as the shock soon vanished form Vex’s face, replaced with the anger that was there once before.

“Well, I’d say… Pixul, while I find your use of the intoxicant quite novel, it is clearly temporary in its effects.” Vex folded his arms behind him, walking back to join sit amongst his cohorts. “I have something far more effective. Something more… permanent.”

He gestured to the massive entity shrouded in a cloud of blackness behind him. The figure moves forward, heavy feet stomping loudly against the cold floor as it inched closer and closer. I felt Red rumble violently against my chest in response, as if to signal the gravity of the situation. The danger I was in.

I tried to move my tsanista, shape them into some form of protection, or some way of escaping this but no matter how much I strained and pushed my powers, nothing happened. There was something blocking my influence. Some immense power building in pressure as the figure approached. It rang out heavily in my mind, and the louder it got, the more and more I felt my powers dissipating. I was losing control. I was losing my mind.

In one motion, the figure grabbed me harshly by my hoodie and ripped me away from the chair, hard enough that the shackles came with me. I could feel the cold metal bruise and scar my wrists, purple blood dripping down my forearm as I clawed helplessly at the black, muscled arm that grappled me. Within seconds, I was slammed against the table between me and Vex’s men with enough force to knock the air out of my lungs, to make me cry out as my body became racked with pain. The shadowed figure held me down in place, glaring at me with that single, unhidden vermillion eye. I could see the many spirals that circled its pupil. They twisted and spun as the figure continued forcing their way into my mind. The pressure became more immense, and I winced and cried even more in response. My thoughts, feelings, free will… all were being controlled. Suppressed. Erased.

“I am not easily intimidated, Terran… especially with friends like mine.” He grinned, taking delight in watching me be consumed by the mind-bending shadows. “I’ll always consider an experienced Makalden hunter to be a far bigger threat than an Aedonnoe with an attitude.”

I grew weaker the harder I fought. I could feel my clawing cease, my arms going limp, my mind going numb. More numb than the Storm’s Tears left me. I felt… cold. Like nothing. Like no one.

The coolness lasted longer… until a warmth entered me. Not the warmth on my cheeks from the tears that fell. No… this was different. A warmth I remember feeling, not too long ago. It’s focused in one area, wrapped around my forearm, glowing and getting hotter, brighter, etching itself onto me like a bandaid. Like a tattoo.

Then Red’s voice entered my head.

[ Hello there. ]

Like a heavy door being shut, the Makalden is forced out, their dominion pushed away from my mind. I felt the pressure leave me, replaced with a different one. One less overbearing, less damaging, less scary. It was a barrier against that darkness, a shield against any form of intrusion.

It was Red saving my life all over again.

[ ⋖◈⋗] Now Processing… Second Band Received Firewall I Function Activated

#p: red

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believermag · 8 years ago

Text

"Think of a pencil being more like a cup of coffee rather than a pen.”

An Interview with Joey Cofone of Baron Fig

As far as pencils are concerned, I’m a late adapter. I made the switch from a fountain pen (how pretentious, I know) after finishing an essay by Mary Norris on her quest for the ideal No. 1 pencil (contrary to the cabal of No. 2 makers at Ticonderoga, they do exist, and are nigh impossible to find). It shows how deep pencil-freak culture goes that if you’re too occupied to maintain your pencil-point, you have the option of mailing your dulled graphite to David Rees, author of How to Sharpen Your Pencil, to be professionally sharpened. But is there anything more to be said about pencils? Can the pencil be re-conceptualized?

For minimalist pencil-designed Joey Cofone, the answer is an all-caps yes to both questions. Cofone has taken 1st place in the 2013 AIGA CMD-X competition, while Print Magazine named him one of 15 designers under 30 to watch.

The thing to understand first off about Cofone is that he likes simplicity a lot. The co-founder of Baron Fig, a New York-based maker of notebooks, Cofone has recently delved into reinventing the pencil. Or revolutionizing it. At the very least, he’s produced a damn fine instrument to write with and to hold.

The fittingly named Archer has a design that’s extremely clean-lined, forsaking the ferrule and even the eraser in pursuit of lightweight practicality. It’s also incredibly aromatic.

—Michael Peck

BLVR: What got you into paper and notebooks?

JOEY COFONE: Several years ago, back at the School of Visual Arts here in New York City, I had realization that changed my life. Walking through the design department and taking a look at my fellow classmates’ tools, I noticed something: each of us was using two tools—a laptop and a notebook—to design. The laptops were all the same, MacBooks, but the notebooks were all different brands, sizes, paper types, and so on. I was intrigued. Why was there ubiquity with one tool but no loyalty to the other?

I went home and checked out my own bookshelf, and lo’ and behold all of my notebooks were different. There was this unspoken search for the right notebook that was going on all around me. Eventually my Co-founder Adam Kornfield joined the mix, and together we talked to thinkers all over the world, asking them one question: What do you like in a sketchbook or notebook?

Out of the five hundred plus cold-emails, we received a whopping 80% response rate. It turns out others were on the same search as us—and they had a lot to say. We used all that feedback to design the first community-inspired notebook, the Confidant, and put it on Kickstarter. At the end of thirty days we sold almost ten thousand notebooks and raised over $150k. That was just over two years ago.

BLVR: How did the name Baron Fig come about?

JC: I had this hankering for the word “Baron.” No idea why, such is life. I took the word to my co-founder Adam and our friend Scott, and told them that it needed a second word. Scott immediately, without hesitation, said “Fig.” Adam and I were confused—what does it mean?—even Scott didn’t know why he said it. Somehow it stuck, but I wasn’t happy with it. How could a company about thinking, about infusing meaning into creativity, not have a name with meaning itself?

For the next few weeks I wrote down hundreds and hundreds of possible names, but none stuck like Baron Fig. Finally, pretty much at wit’s end, I decided to look up the origins of baron and fig. Baron was a symbol of Apollo and Fig was a symbol of Dionysus—brothers that represent order and chaos. The name essentially symbolizes balance, of having the discipline to work hard but also the impulse to play, which is the essence of the creative mindset.

BLVR: What prompted the leap into pencil-making? Were there specific models that influenced the design of the Archer?

JC: I’m a minimalist designer. Hell, I’m a minimalist exister, if there is such a word. I like everything simple, fluid, clear. Clutter and excess drive me nuts. Even when I was a kid, I always wanted things to be just right. I used to go around the house and organize each room as if they were showrooms on display. Lamps squared with the edges of tables, stove tools arranged from longest to shortest, you name it and I was all over it.

The Archer pencil was sort of a minimalist dream come true. I’ve always wanted to design a pencil—they’re like little creative wands—and it took our team over a year to hone in on the right production quality. In the meantime I designed dozens of versions before landing on the Archer you see today, each iteration a little more refined and simpler than the ones before it.

BLVR: Minimalism is definitely a noticeable trait, and it seems like the Archer is something of an ultimate statement of this simplicity. How does one go about re-conceptualizing the pencil?

JC: I don’t know how other designers do it, but I keep iterating until things feel right. Sometimes it’s quick, sometimes it takes 82 versions like the Confidant notebook’s packaging. My goal is to isolate and preserve the best elements, improve the weak ones, and look to my inner self’s gut response to see if the new outcome pleases or not. Rinse and repeat. My old teacher and designer James Victore has a good line about this: “In the particular lies the universal.” Solve your problem—and delight yourself—and you’ll do the same for others.

BLVR: The Archer, besides its other greatnesses, smells so good I have to pause what I’m doing and take a hit. How much wood did you have to test/sniff to make the best choice?

JC: I hear you. We try to take our hits when no one is looking. Sometimes you can find Adam near the stock shelves face-deep in a box of them. It’s definitely an issue.

BLVR: You mentioned earlier this idea of ubiquitous loyalty when it comes to laptops, etc. Pencils are sort of marked by promiscuity—once you’re done with one, you just pluck another from the box. So how do you hope to gain that kind of loyalty with the Archer?

JC: Think of a pencil being more like a cup of coffee rather than a pen. We all find our favorite coffee and stick to it. Sure, the cups run out, but there’s always another one waiting—and you know it’s going to be just as good as the ones that come before it. Quality, reliability—they’re both extremely important in designing a consumable, especially a tool that helps us do our work or hobby.

BLVR: For pencil nerds like myself, how does the Archer differ, and improve upon, something like the Palomino Blackwing?

JC: I get asked this a lot. We put major emphasis on community feedback, and design accordingly. Since we launched Baron Fig we’ve tweaked and redesigned every product directly based on the ideas that come our way from our customers. When we say “Designed by the community,” we mean it. As far as the Archer goes, they’ve been a requested product since day one. Each Archer is extremely high quality, better than anything available at their price point of $15 per pack. And, if I do say so myself, sexier than any pencil, period.

BLVR: It’s definitely a sexy pencil.

JC: Thank you.

BLVR: Pencils, packaging—it’s so minimalist it’s sans-serif, without a stray line in sight, the Phillip Glass of writing implements (I could go on). But I do find myself a little thrown off by the lack of an eraser. Was there a debate to excise the eraser?

JC: Well said. Since launching the Archer I’ve been asked this question often—"Why did you remove the eraser? What’s your thinking?“—as if I’ve committed an atrocity. There’s a disconnect, though, between how people say they feel about erasers versus how people actually feel about them. When’s the last time you used an eraser on a pencil and thought to yourself, "Damn, this eraser is great”? I don’t think it happens. They’re pretty much crap, every one seems to leave marks on the page, gets dirty and blemished, and in the end delivers an underwhelming experience.

So I nixed it. Boom, goodbye eraser at the end. With that out of the way now we can actually deliver a quality eraser on the side, one that doesn’t mark up your page and isn’t limited to the lifespan of the pencil itself.

BLVR: What do you see the Archer going into the world to achieve?

JC: Everything. Imagery and language are some of the oldest and most glorious technologies known to man. Technology? What? Yes, technology. But I’m digressing—what do I hope for the Archer to achieve? For these pencils to be the vehicles of communication, of images and words, that affect the world. Ideas are powerful, writing instruments are the means by which they’re communicated. On our site, at the top of the Squire pen page, it explains that a writing instrument “…grants the power to move entire nations, to touch people’s hearts and souls—to make something from nothing.” And I mean every word of that.

Michael Peck is the author of The Last Orchard in America. His work has appeared in Tin House, LA Review of Books, Pank and elsewhere. He lives in Oregon City, where he deals in rare books.

#pencils

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nothingsfinished-blog · 7 years ago

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The Schengen database is a collection of European persons deemed worthy of monitoring. This system is the most widely used identification retrieval tech for law enforcement across the continent. It’s purpose is to flag up suspicious people when they come into contact with the law from minor traffic violations to crossing international borders. France have added more people to this database than any other European country. A German parliamentarian, Andrej Hunko said “The increase in alerts cannot be explained by the threat of Islamist terrorism alone. Europol reports a four-digit number of confirmed foreign fighters, yet the increase of SIS alerts in 2017 is several times that… This could mean that families and contacts of these individuals are also being secretly monitored. It is also possible that the measure is being used on a large scale for combatting other criminal activity.” Interior Ministry data shows 60% of the requests made to the Schengen database are by France alone, considering 32 countries make up the Schengen area this is bananas.

China as a communist country is officially Atheist, however, Protestantism, Catholicism, Buddhism, Islam and Taoism are currently recognized and allowed to practise their faith. However sects of these mainstream religions are viewed as Western impositions and not inline with socialist ideas. Now Beijing is under fire from the local flocks for talking to the Vatican and corrupting the governance of their religious structures. The Bible has now been discontinued across major book sellers in China. The Global Times in China said regulators "held talks" with large booksellers "about selling illegal products, publications and other printed materials online… The booksellers "had failed to regulate products and so caused a negative social impact", the regulators have said. The east have some beautiful schools teaching the balance of thought, but are apparently equalled by contradiction in outlawing opposing views.

Portugal situated on the Atlantic is primed for a renewable revolution. The Portuguese are able to harness fierce winds, strong hydro-power and days of blaring sun to reap the triple threat in renewables. March just gone saw 103% of all electricity needs being met with a green solution. Back in February 99% of Portugal's electricity was renewable. This trend has almost removed this European country from the reliance on fossil fuels. The Portuguese Renewable Energy Association said “However, it will eventually be necessary, here and then, the use of natural gas power plants, aggregated to interconnections and storage.”

More than 3000 Google Employees are circulating a letter (widely available online) demanding the end in Googles participation in AI surveillance tech, now being deployed by the Pentagon in Project Maven. “Don’t Be Evil” was the notorious founding motto used by google to set them apart. Now the employees write "By entering into this contract, Google will join the ranks of companies like Palantir, Raytheon, and General Dynamics," wrote the employees, who include senior engineers. "The argument that other firms, like Microsoft and Amazon, are also participating doesn't make this any less risky for Google.”

An underwater pipeline moving crude oil just off Borneo Island has ruptured releasing devastation across 16 miles of coastline. This thick black sludge has caused Indonesia to declare a state of emergency. The pipeline has shifted off course about 120 metres from its original location, attempts are currently underway to deploy oil booms to try and contain the spill. Environment Minister Nurbaya Bakar said “We have asked the team as well as Pertamina to prioritise the cleaning of oil spills in residential areas due to the stench and other potential risks”. Pertamina is the name of the state owned company responsible.

A Russian NGO reports on secret prisons in Chechnya which round up and abuse the LGBT community. The group say “The victims were subjected to tortures, humiliations, and other measures that harm their physical and psychological well-being.” the humans rights council of Chechen President Ramzan Kadyrov, responded “I haven’t had a single request on this issue, but if I did, I wouldn’t even consider it… In our Chechen society, any person who respects our traditions and culture will hunt down this kind of person without any help from authorities.” President Kadyrov’s press secretary said ”This publication is a complete lie… It is impossible to detain and oppress those who simply don’t exist in the Republic… If there were such people in Chechnya, the law-enforcement agencies wouldn’t need to have anything to do with them, because their relatives would send them to a place of no return.”

The worlds new longest bridge at sea is to open in China. China’s new mega cities need to encourage mass migration. Constructing easy transport routes for people to move from one city to another is a key development for fluidity of movement across large areas with new infrastructure. The new bridge is 34 miles in length and connects Hong Kong, Macau, and the mainland's southern city, Zhuhai.

From next year the US will give Israel $10.41m every day. Israel recieves more money from the US than any other country. The military aid Israel receives is more than half of all that the US military provides worldwide. Israel’s AIPAC is the only foreign lobby in the US gov. that is not required to register as a foreign lobby. Israel is not a poor nation, the average Israelite enjoys a better living standard than most Americans.

DARPA (Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency) have developed a prosthetic memory system for our inadequate human brain. Electrical signal codes reinforce memory pathways in patients. This device learns a patients specific memory pattern and uses this data to communicate with the brains hippocampus via an electrode. The paper is published in Journal of Neural Engineering. This evidence provides support for a previous experiment which restored the memory in rats. The paper’s lead author Robert Hampson says ““This is the first time scientists have been able to identify a patient’s own brain-cell code or pattern for memory and, in essence, ‘write in’ that code to make existing memory work better — an important first step in potentially restoring memory loss.” Common types of memory loss usually occur in people with Alzheimer’s disease, stroke, and head injury.

#world news #news #china #christianity #google #france #darpa

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joshuabradleyn · 7 years ago

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How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness

The M-word is sweeping its way across magazine covers, TED Talks and podcasts. “Mindfulness” is one of today’s hottest topics. The concept is pretty simple: You live in the moment, are aware of what you’re doing and don’t feel overwhelmed by activity around you. But the concept isn’t simple to follow, especially in a world with constant distractions, such as relentless social media updates, 24/7 news and smartphones beeping with new text messages.

This makes training in the moment challenging, as your mind wanders to such things: You get a text message and feel the need to stop cycling to answer, or your phone flashes a news update and you scroll through while out on a run. How can you stop these interruptions while working out? A few sports enthusiasts offer their own experiences for you to take with you into your training.

EMBRACE PAIN

I live in the moment when I run hills. The burning, the breathing — it hurts. The pain makes me more mindful of what’s going on with my body. That’s what pain does; it grabs your attention. Pain gives me a way out and a way through. I can use it as a reason to stop, or I can use it as a reason to grow stronger. The moment the pain becomes uncomfortable, negotiations ensue. My body lobbies for stopping and my mind considers my body’s arguments. For my body to keep moving, my mind must take charge. I override the cries from my body with commands. I start telling my feet to move fast, my arms to swing strong and my breath to count 1, 2.

— Martise Moore, running coach and founder of GreenRunner

STAY YOUNG AT HEART

My energy is fueled by positive thoughts in the hopes to multiply my self confidence daily. My mother told me when I was a child that we remember everything through pleasure and pain. So every morning I have a positive outlook on life and reaffirm that my day will be under my control and I’m the ruler of my destiny. When I go through my day, it’s filled with activity and I approach it like a child at a playground; I’m here to have fun, make friends and leave on a positive note. Remember what It was like to not take life too seriously, to have fun and look forward to lunch, to have play dates and make new friends. So when you’re going for a run, smile at people, it will make you feel better. When you’re in the gym or on a court, have a smile on your face and you’ll notice people will smile back or you’ll make a new friend.

— Marc Coronel, owner of Open Mind Fitness; Trigger Point and TRX senior master instructor

GRATITUDE AND DEDICATION

Mindfulness, alongside great movement prep, is essential to all my workouts as one must align the mind and body for positivity. For a kick-ass day, I stoke the fire of excellence by framing my mindset around gratitude. For example, this morning, as gratitude for my family’s safety, I dedicated my workout to the victims of the recent hurricanes. I did a kettlebell circuit that always challenges me at the halfway point so when my physical barriers came into play, I thought to myself, “This is for the energy, the light, the hope for those affected by the hurricanes. So, what does your best look like for them, Brian?” Then, boom, my effort level is back up because I remember that my life, my energy and my love is being channeled for those in need.

— Brian Nguyen, Dragon Master at Elementally Strong Life; proud part of the UA Training Team

FEEL THE LOVE

When I’m running, especially long distances, I mark the distance with gratitude. For every landmark I pass, I name something I’m grateful for, and I really take in that feeling of appreciation and love. For instance, if I’m running along the reservoir, I’ll spend that time meditating on my son’s big blue eyes and how much I love him. If I run down a city block, I focus on how lucky I am to call New York my home. This practice helps me keep gratitude a regular part of my day, and believe me, it makes the miles just fly by.

— Sonia Satra, mind-body expert and founder of wellness program, Moticise

READ MORE > MANTRAS MADE FOR RUNNERS BY RUNNERS

STAY IN TUNE WITH YOUR BODY

While running, I make sure I connect with my breath as soon as I begin. I simply focus on my breath coming in, filling my lungs and then going out again. When my mind strays from the breath, which it inevitably does, I accept it has happened, and refocus my attention on the rhythm of my breathing. Once I have been focused on my breath for a while, I begin to connect with my body by focusing my attention on the different muscles and joints in use when running. I move my attention through my feet, feeling them as they make impact with the ground, through my legs, feeling all of the different muscles being activated, and through my arms, feeling them as they swing back and forth in rhythm. This is actually a fantastic way to help your body recruit all of the necessary running muscles.

— Eamonn Leaver, psychologist, sport and exercise scientist

PARTAKE IN THE SCENERY

I am a runner in New York City and when I do long runs, I always try to run from home (Astoria) into the the city. To do that, I have to run across the Queensboro Bridge and whether on foot or in car, it’s always humbling. You get a panoramic view of the city and a reminder you can do anything, including the 20-miler you set out for.

— Lynette Pettinicchi, runner

DITCH THE NOISE

I’m a distance runner, and I don’t run with music or podcasts. Though focusing on my form and breath helps keep me present (and improves my running) most of time, on the hardest days and longest runs, I turn to counting individual steps to keep my mind and breath even and relaxed. Steps add up so much faster than you expect — much quicker than counting down in half-mile increments. And we don’t spend much time counting in the thousands, so it’s just enough of a challenge to keep negative thoughts and distractions at bay.

— Kate Ziegler, marathoner and cycling advocate

USE THE SENSES

I observe the surroundings. No headphones or music. I love music just as much as the next person, but not while I’m running. When I’m running, I’m observing everything going on around me. In an early morning run, it may be the sound of the birds or watching the sunrise. When I run through the neighborhood in the fall, I can hear when a football team has scored a touchdown by the cheers that erupt in the houses. Sometimes I hear people fighting in their houses and other times I hear their laughter. On the weekends, I can smell dinners being prepared as I run by. I usually try to guess what they’re making. One doesn’t usually associate using the five senses while running, but in essence, that’s what I’m doing.

— Christine Goldfuss, runner

NOTICE THE DETAILS

When I am going for a long run, a swim or cycling, I always pay attention to the small details in my body so I can maintain a meditative focus on the task at hand. If I feel some tension in my left foot, I know right away I am not using my glutes enough, so I will quickly make a minor correction, and get myself back in good alignment. Mindfulness allows me to get through endurance activities because it gives me the ability to focus on my body and have a mental task at hand.

— Rui Li, president and CEO, New York Personal Training

PUT THE MIND TO THE MUSCLE

I consciously seek to feel each contraction precisely in the specific muscle I am targeting in that exercise. This is a great mindfulness task when training to ensure maximum results.

— Jordan Paris, CPT, Men’s Health Fitness Council

FIND YOUR EBB AND FLOW

I find my greatest mindful runs are when I am totally tuned into my breathing. I create patterns as I ebb and flow between fatigue and energy and almost turn them into a tune or song in my mind. When I am consistently breathing, in-out, in-out, in-out, I fall into that blissful lull, like I do with yoga or meditation, where each step feels like it’s happening without any effort. Breathing like this is even more important when pacing for a faster finishing time, when you’re pushing yourself to maintain a challenging speed. I often tell clients, “Find comfort in your breathing; let that cradle you and carry you.”

— Jessica Thiefels, CPT, founder and editor-in-chief of Honest Body Fitness

The post How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2ynaPCA

#How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness

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ruthellisneda · 7 years ago

Text

How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness

EMBRACE PAIN

— Martise Moore, running coach and founder of GreenRunner

STAY YOUNG AT HEART

— Marc Coronel, owner of Open Mind Fitness; Trigger Point and TRX senior master instructor

GRATITUDE AND DEDICATION

— Brian Nguyen, Dragon Master at Elementally Strong Life; proud part of the UA Training Team

FEEL THE LOVE

— Sonia Satra, mind-body expert and founder of wellness program, Moticise

READ MORE > MANTRAS MADE FOR RUNNERS BY RUNNERS

STAY IN TUNE WITH YOUR BODY

— Eamonn Leaver, psychologist, sport and exercise scientist

PARTAKE IN THE SCENERY

— Lynette Pettinicchi, runner

DITCH THE NOISE

— Kate Ziegler, marathoner and cycling advocate

USE THE SENSES

— Christine Goldfuss, runner

NOTICE THE DETAILS

— Rui Li, president and CEO, New York Personal Training

PUT THE MIND TO THE MUSCLE

I consciously seek to feel each contraction precisely in the specific muscle I am targeting in that exercise. This is a great mindfulness task when training to ensure maximum results.

— Jordan Paris, CPT, Men’s Health Fitness Council

FIND YOUR EBB AND FLOW

— Jessica Thiefels, CPT, founder and editor-in-chief of Honest Body Fitness

The post How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2ynaPCA

#How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness

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almajonesnjna · 7 years ago

Text

How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness

EMBRACE PAIN

— Martise Moore, running coach and founder of GreenRunner

STAY YOUNG AT HEART

— Marc Coronel, owner of Open Mind Fitness; Trigger Point and TRX senior master instructor

GRATITUDE AND DEDICATION

— Brian Nguyen, Dragon Master at Elementally Strong Life; proud part of the UA Training Team

FEEL THE LOVE

— Sonia Satra, mind-body expert and founder of wellness program, Moticise

READ MORE > MANTRAS MADE FOR RUNNERS BY RUNNERS

STAY IN TUNE WITH YOUR BODY

— Eamonn Leaver, psychologist, sport and exercise scientist

PARTAKE IN THE SCENERY

— Lynette Pettinicchi, runner

DITCH THE NOISE

— Kate Ziegler, marathoner and cycling advocate

USE THE SENSES

— Christine Goldfuss, runner

NOTICE THE DETAILS

— Rui Li, president and CEO, New York Personal Training

PUT THE MIND TO THE MUSCLE

I consciously seek to feel each contraction precisely in the specific muscle I am targeting in that exercise. This is a great mindfulness task when training to ensure maximum results.

— Jordan Paris, CPT, Men’s Health Fitness Council

FIND YOUR EBB AND FLOW

— Jessica Thiefels, CPT, founder and editor-in-chief of Honest Body Fitness

The post How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2ynaPCA

#How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness

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neilmillerne · 7 years ago

Text

How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness

EMBRACE PAIN

— Martise Moore, running coach and founder of GreenRunner

STAY YOUNG AT HEART

— Marc Coronel, owner of Open Mind Fitness; Trigger Point and TRX senior master instructor

GRATITUDE AND DEDICATION

— Brian Nguyen, Dragon Master at Elementally Strong Life; proud part of the UA Training Team

FEEL THE LOVE

— Sonia Satra, mind-body expert and founder of wellness program, Moticise

READ MORE > MANTRAS MADE FOR RUNNERS BY RUNNERS

STAY IN TUNE WITH YOUR BODY

— Eamonn Leaver, psychologist, sport and exercise scientist

PARTAKE IN THE SCENERY

— Lynette Pettinicchi, runner

DITCH THE NOISE

— Kate Ziegler, marathoner and cycling advocate

USE THE SENSES

— Christine Goldfuss, runner

NOTICE THE DETAILS

— Rui Li, president and CEO, New York Personal Training

PUT THE MIND TO THE MUSCLE

I consciously seek to feel each contraction precisely in the specific muscle I am targeting in that exercise. This is a great mindfulness task when training to ensure maximum results.

— Jordan Paris, CPT, Men’s Health Fitness Council

FIND YOUR EBB AND FLOW

— Jessica Thiefels, CPT, founder and editor-in-chief of Honest Body Fitness

The post How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2ynaPCA

#How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness

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johnclapperne · 7 years ago

Text

How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness

EMBRACE PAIN

— Martise Moore, running coach and founder of GreenRunner

STAY YOUNG AT HEART

— Marc Coronel, owner of Open Mind Fitness; Trigger Point and TRX senior master instructor

GRATITUDE AND DEDICATION

— Brian Nguyen, Dragon Master at Elementally Strong Life; proud part of the UA Training Team

FEEL THE LOVE

— Sonia Satra, mind-body expert and founder of wellness program, Moticise

READ MORE > MANTRAS MADE FOR RUNNERS BY RUNNERS

STAY IN TUNE WITH YOUR BODY

— Eamonn Leaver, psychologist, sport and exercise scientist

PARTAKE IN THE SCENERY

— Lynette Pettinicchi, runner

DITCH THE NOISE

— Kate Ziegler, marathoner and cycling advocate

USE THE SENSES

— Christine Goldfuss, runner

NOTICE THE DETAILS

— Rui Li, president and CEO, New York Personal Training

PUT THE MIND TO THE MUSCLE

I consciously seek to feel each contraction precisely in the specific muscle I am targeting in that exercise. This is a great mindfulness task when training to ensure maximum results.

— Jordan Paris, CPT, Men’s Health Fitness Council

FIND YOUR EBB AND FLOW

— Jessica Thiefels, CPT, founder and editor-in-chief of Honest Body Fitness

The post How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2ynaPCA

#How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness

0 notes

albertcaldwellne · 7 years ago

Text

How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness

EMBRACE PAIN

— Martise Moore, running coach and founder of GreenRunner

STAY YOUNG AT HEART

— Marc Coronel, owner of Open Mind Fitness; Trigger Point and TRX senior master instructor

GRATITUDE AND DEDICATION

— Brian Nguyen, Dragon Master at Elementally Strong Life; proud part of the UA Training Team

FEEL THE LOVE

— Sonia Satra, mind-body expert and founder of wellness program, Moticise

READ MORE > MANTRAS MADE FOR RUNNERS BY RUNNERS

STAY IN TUNE WITH YOUR BODY

— Eamonn Leaver, psychologist, sport and exercise scientist

PARTAKE IN THE SCENERY

— Lynette Pettinicchi, runner

DITCH THE NOISE

— Kate Ziegler, marathoner and cycling advocate

USE THE SENSES

— Christine Goldfuss, runner

NOTICE THE DETAILS

— Rui Li, president and CEO, New York Personal Training

PUT THE MIND TO THE MUSCLE

I consciously seek to feel each contraction precisely in the specific muscle I am targeting in that exercise. This is a great mindfulness task when training to ensure maximum results.

— Jordan Paris, CPT, Men’s Health Fitness Council

FIND YOUR EBB AND FLOW

— Jessica Thiefels, CPT, founder and editor-in-chief of Honest Body Fitness

The post How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2ynaPCA

#How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness

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lotsofdogs · 7 years ago

Text

How Athletes and Trainers Practice Mindfulness

EMBRACE PAIN

— Martise Moore, running coach and founder of GreenRunner

STAY YOUNG AT HEART

— Marc Coronel, owner of Open Mind Fitness; Trigger Point and TRX senior master instructor

GRATITUDE AND DEDICATION

— Brian Nguyen, Dragon Master at Elementally Strong Life; proud part of the UA Training Team

FEEL THE LOVE

— Sonia Satra, mind-body expert and founder of wellness program, Moticise

READ MORE > MANTRAS MADE FOR RUNNERS BY RUNNERS

STAY IN TUNE WITH YOUR BODY

— Eamonn Leaver, psychologist, sport and exercise scientist

PARTAKE IN THE SCENERY

— Lynette Pettinicchi, runner

DITCH THE NOISE

— Kate Ziegler, marathoner and cycling advocate

USE THE SENSES

— Christine Goldfuss, runner

NOTICE THE DETAILS

— Rui Li, president and CEO, New York Personal Training

PUT THE MIND TO THE MUSCLE

I consciously seek to feel each contraction precisely in the specific muscle I am targeting in that exercise. This is a great mindfulness task when training to ensure maximum results.

— Jordan Paris, CPT, Men’s Health Fitness Council

FIND YOUR EBB AND FLOW

— Jessica Thiefels, CPT, founder and editor-in-chief of Honest Body Fitness

[Read More ...] http://blog.myfitnesspal.com/athletes-trainers-practice-mindfulness/

#health #fitness

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