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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…]

After The Virus Has Gone

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COVID 19, the Coronavirus, is triggering global panic.

The World Health Organization (WHO) just declared it a pandemic, citing “alarming levels of spread and … levels of inaction.” Right now, there are over 120,000 documented cases worldwide and over 1,000 here in the United States. I’m positive that by the time you’re reading this, those numbers will seem nostalgic. Things move blindingly fast. As illustration, three weeks ago, we hadn’t even heard of “self-quarantine.” Miriam Webster now catalogues it in the top one percent of lookups.

One might say that the media is over-hyping the crisis to get eyeballs and clicks. One might be right. Yet, there’s also a legitimate cause for concern. Between the unreliable information stream; the natural fear we all have of the unknown; as well as feeling that we are leaves in the rapids, propelled without control; it’s normal to have to hold at bay the nauseous sense of panic welling up in our throats.

As the serenity prayer says, “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” This condition is so not in the “change the things I can change” column. The best advice is “remember to breathe.” Clear a moment. Close your eyes. Take a long, deep breath. Let it out. Repeat. Color it “acceptance”

However, what will our society look like post-virus?

And yes, it will be gone. There will be a morning after. Most of us will be here when the sun rises on that day. If we use China as a template, the scourge – if handled well (and that’s a topic for another column) – will take about eight weeks to run its course.

I’m sure there are greater predictive minds than mine looking to that time, although I think some consequences are already making themselves known.

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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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