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Getting Past What Holds You Back with Baby Boomer Weight Loss Expert Scott 'Q' Marcus

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Pray for Our Country

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I have never been religious in the “traditional sense.”

As the first boy in my family’s history to be Bar Mitzvah’d, I was honored. I was proud of my heritage but the oft-times dogmatic rituals that go with religion never spoke to me. For decades, I hovered between agnostic and atheist; my questioning, skeptical nature disallowing me from accepting that which I could not prove.

As the years faded, I evolved a spiritual philosophy that reverberated with that probing, doubtful me: Simply put, I believe there is an all-patient, non-judging, immensely intelligent, creative-in-the-extreme Higher Power. Call It “God,” “Spirit,” “Universe,” “Ghia,” or whatever you prefer; it is too vast for a name to define it anyway.

Yet, as opposed to the belief that he/she/it sits on high and determines or guides our lives, I believe that said “higher power” is actually the combined energy of all there is; whether that be an animal, plant, mineral, quark, atom, or supernova. Since we are all birthed of It, It is us and we access It whenever we choose. Actually, we are always in touch with It, even when we’re not trying to be. Like fertile soil, all we need do is plant our thoughts into It and It responds in the same fashion as a seed will grow when placed in dirt. It does not need to be coaxed nor asked; it just happens.

I am not so arrogant as to know that this is the ultimate truth but it works for me.

I also am aware that others might have differing views, and that too is fine with me. You do you. I’ll do me. Providing neither of us attempts to override the other, we’ll get along fine. I imagine that no matter what your beliefs, you agree with that.

I put all this out there because when I use the concept of “pray,” I don’t want you to think I’m asking you to do something foreign to your beliefs, such as go to Church or Temple or to repeat psalms or chapters if that’s not what you do. Should that be of solace to you, that’s wonderful. If, however, you’re more like me, please don’t let the use of the word prevent you from hearing the more important message.

Disclaimers completed, please, in whatever fashion you do so, and to whatever God or Higher Power you believe, pray for our country.

Pray that people of goodwill will be heard over the cacophony of hate and violence.

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One of These Days, When This All Passes…

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One of these days, morning will dawn on a world where this will have all passed.

One of these days, we will return to lives, no longer sheltering-in-place nor wearing protective gear and masks to leave our houses. One of these days we will again put on make-up, style our hair, dress up, and go out for a night at the theater, soaking in all the glorious laughter and chatter of being in a room full of people, no longer fearful of what might be transmitted. One day again, we will celebrate a special occasion at an upscale restaurant, surrounded a bit too closely by other diners – but we won’t mind. One of these days we will host dinner parties and wrap our arms around and hold tight each and every person who enters our house.

One of these days, we will look back with a mixture of sorrow and relief and anger and fear at this entire horrific, upending, devastating period.

Alas, that day is not yet.

It won’t be as far from now as we fear, nor will it be as soon as we would prefer.

But it is coming; as surely as the sun will rise and the winds will blow and the stars will shine; it is approaching. Paraphrasing T.S. Elliot, that instant will land not with a bang, but with a whimper; subtlety, slowly, surreptitiously making known its presence. In the same manner one cannot actually watch a flower open but can recognize its beauty when it blooms, that time is blossoming even now.

And when it does, what will you do to commemorate its arrival?

I will re-experience joy in the small things. No more will I socially distance myself nor self-isolate, instead smiling broadly when someone — anyone — passes me on the sidewalk. No longer having to swab everything with sani-wipes, I will plop down my butt on any park bench I damn well want or hang from its jungle gym, free of trepidation of what I might catch. I will relish the background noise and chatter of a crowded mall. I’ll stand nearer than six feet when in line at the grocery store and won’t be afraid to handle cash when I pay. [Read more…]

Getting Though It – What Will the Future Be?

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Last week, I forecast that within a week the 1,000 United States COVID cases and the 120,000 international cases would seem nostalgic.

Sadly, they are; everyone saw that coming. I’m not a soothsayer. Oh-so-seven days ago, states were floating the concept of limiting gatherings to 250-500 people. How quaint is that? Seniors were outside; the Bay Area was bustling; coffee shops, diners, and bars were open for business.

Oh, what a difference makes one week.

Currently the U.S. now has 7,668 cases with 117 deaths. The world count has risen to 212,799 with 8,787 people succumbing. It is recommended that those of us 65+ “self-isolate,” a term utterly unknown but a few weeks past. Recommendations are that we limit crowds to fewer than ten. Pubs, restaurants and eateries are shuttered. The markets are off approximately 35 percent from their highs, companies are failing, average people — like you and me — are without income. San Francisco is closed. Hospital ships are being sent to New York and the West Coast.

Four to five days from now, this might read like sentimental history.

I am case-closed certain that I am not the only person who feels like he or she has been transported into a sci-fi, environmental, economic, post-apocalyptic, end-of-times, action-adventure movie for which I did not audition; nor did I have any interest in being cast. Certainly, soon, the credits will roll, house lights will come up, and we can rise from our seats and leave the theater; a great idea if movie houses were even open for business.

If someone would have written this as a plot for a movie, it wouldn’t have been green-lit. No one would believe it.

Nonetheless, here we are. There’s no sugar coating it; things appear dire.

So, now that I’ve harshed your mellow, let’s look at where we go from here.

Recently, I heard an eloquent, simple analysis of how we react. It went approximately like this: Something happens; we create a story about its meaning; that story in turn creates our reality, and therefore what we believe is possible or not. In effect, “What we say to ourselves determines what we do to ourselves.”

Don’t misinterpret; this is scary stuff. Real lives are being affected. Some people will not survive, others will suffer long term economic and physical damage. Thinking positively and placing our hands on our chests, closing our eyes, and chanting “Om”, will not eradicate the virus nor heal the economy.

Yet, while we gingerly, one-step-in-front of the other, shakily traverse the swaying rope bridge from what was to what will be, it is essential we keep first and foremost the notion that we will emerge from this fiery, molten, hellscape. The terrain in which we will find ourselves will be shaped by how we think now, today, as we struggle to endure. We need to examine the thoughts and beliefs — in effect, the stories — we are telling ourselves; if we are going to find our way to a better place.

To that end, some thoughts to remember.

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This is Our Life

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Right now, where are you as you’re reading this?

Are you on-line, looking for something to share with friends on your social media stream? Are you leaning over a kitchen counter, using the newspaper as a distraction while you hastily throw food into your belly while on a break between chores? Are you in the employee lounge at work scanning the newspaper that a co-worker abandoned on a table, and you came across this piece? Or maybe, sitting with a cup of coffee on the couch on a Sunday morning is part of your regular routine?

Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, stop for a moment and absorb what’s happening around you (don’t worry I’ll be here when you return). Stand or sit up straight, adjust your posture so your shoulders are back, your head is held high, and your chest expands. Then, take a deep, deep, deep breath and then slowly let it out, releasing any tension you might or might not even realize you’re holding.

Cease all the hub-bub, self-flagellation, to-do lists, and mental noise for just a smidge of an instant and give to yourself the gift of simply “being.”

This moment, in this place, at this time, is your life. It is not lamenting dreams you didn’t accomplish or plans for the future. It is not an inventory of promises unfulfilled. It is not how much – or how little – money is in your account. It is a parade of ephemeral, fleeting moments passing into history, an everlasting mental train of thoughts and observations traveling from today to yesterday.

THIS moment — this NOW — is your life.

What prompted me to wax so philosophically (aside from the fact that I’m incredibly philosophical, insightful, introspective man, of course) started unexpectedly enough, when our washing machine exploded.

Don’t picture a Michael Bay movie; my wife and I leaping to safety in a slo-mo scene as flames burst forth from the Maytag behind us. It was a whimper more than a bang. The valve that’s supposed to stop the tub from overflowing called it quits and opted to not shut off when it was supposed to. Resultingly, upon returning from changing into pajamas, I discovered our kitchen, utility room, and my wife’s studio, were flooded. [Read more…]

In Celebration of Old

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There’s an app making the rounds that analyzes selfies and projects how you will appear when you’re “old.”

It’s apparently all the thing because my social media feed is unexpectedly cluttered with images of millennials sporting crow’s feet, gray hair, and age spots. (My son sent an image of him at what I assume is my age. For some unexplained reason, he looked more like Richard Dreyfus than me. Maybe something I need to know?)

I would like to believe that this sudden fascination with aging is a positive sign that we’re embracing the inevitable, and finally celebrating the wisdom, history, and knowledge in our seniors. After all, we’ve been obsessed with youth and beauty since Adam insecurely asked Eve if his hairline was receding. Yet, I don’t think that’s the case; sadly, it’s more likely another passing fad such as ice bucket challenges, latex wristbands, or man buns.

Yet, this serves as an excellent jump-off point to remember that — especially in an aging society — there’s are larger issues at hand:

How do we prepare for our inevitable outcomes? Is there a way to change our collective view of the aging process into one of acceptance and wonder of the life cycle and — dare I say it — welcome embrace of the gift of being old? Can we remember that “beauty” is not age-specific and does not evaporate as the calendar moves onward? Can we acknowledge that that not all beautiful bodies wear bikinis and sport six-pack abs?

Recently I staggered across a video from a female internet influencer replying to a “troll” who scolded her for appearing “old” because she was unwilling to dye her hair. Apparently, this miscreant said the influencer should “take better care of herself.” Came the reply: “First of all — it’s no one’s business but mine whether I choose to color my hair.” (Bravo!) She then went on to reveal that she suffered from an incurable disease and would not make it past her sixties; she would never have the opportunity to become “old.” Summing it up, she reminded us, “Old age is a gift many of us will not receive.”

No one likes the idea of dying.

Focusing on that inevitable outcome is terrifying; we need a hard-wearing shield of denial simply to make it through the day. Yet, to that end, desperately attempting to avoid the truth, we also overlook the richness of aging, wasting our today’s lamenting yesterdays we’ll never recover, while worrying about tomorrows we all know we’ll have.

With the passing of years come gifts, unavailable to those with smooth skin and full heads of hair:

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Scott "Q" Marcus 707 834.4090 scottq@thistimeimeanit.com

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