I like my wine like my women and my art like my mind.

Wine intimidates people. The drink of the gods, the staple of France, the blood of Napa, with wine comes a sense of pomp and sophistication few other luxuries can offer. To the novice, the massive breadth and scope of the “Wine World” can make even the most curious patron cower in the corner, scared to be exposed as a beginner. With a dictionary all of it’s own, countless varietals, infinite vineyards and a devout following from primarily the higher class, wine carries many barriers of entry that keep many the would be drinker sticking to other alcohols and beverage options.

At a restaurant I used to work at we would routinely hold wine education courses, typically featuring representatives from various vineyards running seminars and tastings to better educate our staff in the pro’s, and pro’s, of their selective bottles. More often than not, the educators would rattle off facts and notes pertaining to the blends, the processes, the types of grapes and aging processes that usually left us as students bored and disinterested. Of course tasting the wine was another matter. Once we could hold, swirl, smell and sip the fermented grape juice our senses and curiosities rose sharply. We sought out hidden flavors, often trying our hand at pin pointing obscure flavors as tobacco, nutmeg, chocolate, even red bell pepper! And despite our attempts being more than a bit on the comically sarcastic side, the representatives would always find a way to encourage and attempt to diffuse and or explain our tastes. As long as we liked it, we would sell it, and they would have done their job.

I distinctly remember one particular educator who likened each wine to a different kind of woman. “This red is a classy, dark, intellectual wine. Think of a vintage Hollywood starlet.” Or “This white is light, sweet, and innocent, it is a lot of fun. Think of your high school sweetheart, when life was simple and carefree!” Abstract, yes, but these analogies worked, they helped us identify with each wine, develop character and opinions and enhanced our waning curiosities in a topic we could always afford to learn more in. I enjoyed this representative’s speech, and consequently will always remember how he closed the class. “Look” he declared, pressing both knuckles into the long wooden table, “People love to make wine complicated, it makes them feel distinguished, exceptional. The truth is wine is like any luxury in life in that if you like it, nothing else really matters. To some a Lamborghini is a dream car; to another it is a Porsche, or even a truck! If you find a wine you love, do not let anyone tell you otherwise, drink what makes you happy! For that is the purpose and enjoyment of it all.” What he did in that conclusion was empower us; he put us on a level playing field with every wine novice and wine connoisseur on the planet. He let us know we could not only belong, but stand on our own, hold a conversation, defend our selections. I now no longer scan menus searching for a popular name, or sort by price, hoping to randomly obtain some wine credibility. I have slowly found what I enjoy, and the stress and pressure of it all has been evaporated from my shoulders.

Today I made my way around the National Gallery of Australia, home to hundreds of world class pieces from artists as distinguished and noted as Picasso, Monet, Warhol & Pollock. As I strolled the open aisle ways, pausing to read descriptions, admire classics, investigate others, I had the same type of  “Wine” moment. Art has always been a curious subject for me. For those who follow it, and study the subject, I can’t tell you how many times I have stood facing a piece, that for the life of me I could not “grasp” or even pretend to enjoy. Many of these created by world-renowned masters of their mediums. For the longest time I would feel embarrassed, like I simply did not know enough about the work to truly enjoy it, that I wasn’t qualified to be a critic. I would nod and agree and guess just like I had done on wine lists for so many years.  Often I would creep behind a tour group to hear the host give his or her opinions on what made these often “questionable” pieces of art, such “masterpieces”, and rarely was I satisfied. I just didn’t get it, I guess?

Today however I sat and admired a wall size masterpiece from Jackson Pollock titled  “Blue Poles”. His trademark paint scattering style completely saturating a canvas twenty feet wide and 12 feet high.  Bright splashes of orange, leapt from the wall against a background of blues and grays, whites and blacks also masqueraded in the background giving further effect. I loved this painting.  I told myself “If I like it, what else is there to debate? No one can tell me otherwise.” This quiet confession emboldened me. It gave me a new sense of art critic confidence. Many before me may have distinguished these artists as “Masters” but no one could tell me what, or whose artistic expressions I enjoyed, except myself.

With each gallery I found new favorites. Most were from artists largely unknown as well as a few classics from the stalwarts. Comparatively there were also quite a few selections I disliked, again, many from legendary artists.  But this was my show, my art critique and it made the whole experience that much more enjoyable. For reasons I cannot quite explain, it is almost empowering to be able to stand and make a judgment or critique on something that so many others try to sway your opinion on.

Like wine, perhaps that is why art is so grand, and will forever stand the tests of time and change. Both allow you to find your own flavors, favorites and style. The options are endless and surely there must be one “masterpiece” for every person, of every type and discriminations. The key lays within ones self. To be able to block the hype of the masses, to search and discover ones own unique tastes and visions is what makes these two genres so forever rewarding. I thoroughly enjoy some wines, and I dislike many others. I love select art, and I am confused and even disappointed in more than a few pieces. If beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, so does good wine and incredible art. The only hurdle we must mount is the ability to be able to break through the commonplace perceptions, dispel the praise and critiques of others, develop our own style in selection, and when we do this free of persuasion, our end results will be nothing short of masterful. 

Atmosphere is everything.

It's always there. It surrounds you, envelops you in it's grasp, coats everything you see, smell, touch and do. It's loud, and silent. It's frantic, and serene. It morphs, contorts and squeezes itself into everything you need and want it to be, all the while going unnoticed. Atmosphere dictates so much in this world and in our lives, yet we attribute so little to it. It is what we make of it and it's impact is greater than many would admit. 

Yesterday I rode a stationary bike in the downstairs level of the gym here in Canberra. There were an assortment of other riders scattered about on the various cardio machines, all enclosed and focused in their own world. It was quiet for the most part, the mechanical humming of the artificial tires and spinning of the row machines dominated the acoustics of the room. On the wall were three televisions, each tuned to a different network show, the volume low, barely audible. So I mustered up some intensity, cranked the resistance, and tried for the life of me to push myself to create a effective, beneficial workout from these doldrums of an arena. I pushed and peddled, incorporated sprints, climbs, and tracks yet every minute seemed harder to maintain, my attention waned, my focused mindset strayed and ultimately after fifteen minutes I ended the experiment, consoling myself with the reasoning that I would attend a Spin class the following evening to make up for this lackluster performance. 

The Spin room is dark, looming fans paste the walls and forefront, speakers tucked into the corners, air conditioning crisp and flowing, and bikes organized uniformly four abreast, six rows deep. The instructor sits on his/her bike at the front, on a raised platform facing the class, armed with a stereo control panel and their chosen selection of inspirational music for the session. Today's instructor was a woman, in her early thirties, and despite her small stature she quickly and clearly took control of the class with a series of sharp orders and demands. Fifty five minutes later, drenched, exhausted, and athletically satisfied, everyone slowly regained their wits and equilibrium's and departed. Yet, despite the challenge, and the workload far exceeding the previous days solo attempt, the Spin class seemed to fly by, the workout kept you enthralled and consistently piqued each ones interests through music, changes of pace and direction. It was the atmosphere that exonerated such superior results, the atmosphere created a forum for increased performance, it willed the effort from the riders, and each and every one of its aforementioned attributes combined to create an effect, absolutely engineered to make Spin enjoyable, challenging, and achievable. This is what I speak of when I tout the effects and impact the atmosphere of a particular event or action can have on the outcomes. 

Some people read with music. I prefer silence. When possible, we all take advantage of creating the most beneficial atmospheres to suit our preferences and current needs. We never really realize it though. From pre-game athletic rituals, to meals, to the air conditioning levels in our apartments or homes, we seek comfort almost unconsciously. Where as cats continuously groom themselves, we do the same with our appearances, surroundings, and controllable inputs on ourselves. We know what it takes to give us our desired outcomes and effects and we will always, when allowable, take concordant action to put ourselves in elevated levels of comfort. For when we are most comfortable, we are most effective. Whether in absorbing text from a novel, drafting a paper, running calculations, lifting weights, and on and on, we perform best when the atmospheres attributes put us in our most comfortable states. 

Comfort in this context is not to say relaxed, or idle. Comfort is more of a inner balance that spawns the foundation that enables us to act in a most effective and benefiting manner. Take the spin story for instance. Alone, in the cardio room, I was not comfortable. I was distracted, I was void of intensity, the overall vibe and feel of the room was not conducive for me in obtaining my desired goals within my cyclical workout. But the next day, surrounded by others with the same mindset, the same goals, accompanied by loud, motivational music, led by a energetic leader and in cool, dark lighting, we achieved our desired result, we got our butts kicked and walked out pleased and satisfied with our efforts. As dramatic as the atmosphere change was between the days, our performance and effort differences were equally as opposite. 

Let's take sporting events. Massive crowds, loud music, lights, pressure, all are hurled into the proverbial melting pot that creates the events atmosphere. For the athletes involved, it is those who can adapt, who can program themselves to accept and embrace this elevated setting that stand the greatest chance of success and consistency. The athlete who can make his or herself comfortable in these settings are the ones who are last left standing. Many can not handle the spotlight, the rigors and stresses being thrust in front of so many with so much riding on the result, many can not find comfort and many fail to succeed. Perhaps this is why such a minute fraction of the global population ever make it to the upper echelons of professional athletics. Perhaps this is equally the cause why so many remove themselves from contention as their careers lurch on? 

Success is a direct result of two variables. One being the atmosphere the desired actions and results take place in, and the second being the ability to adapt, change, and effect the given forum in which you act or perform. When we have the privilege to create and modify our settings to our exact likings, there are no excuses, there are no faults or sources of blame. Give me a book and a quiet room and I will be never the happier, but turn the music on, inject distractions, rattle my cage, and make me uncomfortable and watch my performance, my enjoyment and my emotion change and falter, and my consequent reasoning and or excuse counts surge. 

I believe the people who are best at what they do, and this can be anything, are as equally impressive in their abilities to either put themselves in their desired atmosphere or mentally challenge themselves to accept and embrace the scenarios they have been delegated. From the athlete who painstakingly organizes his game day suits, to the student who crafts play lists in their Itunes to study to, to the executive who surrounds his walls with select arts and to the chef who demands his kitchen be consistently kept at sixty five degrees, the ability to mold and align the factors that compose each ones atmosphere is a trait not to be looked lightly upon. 

We each know precisely, to the letter, what we need to make ourselves comfortable. We know exactly what the ideal world looks like that will enable us to display our finest qualities. In every situation, from sleep, to exercise, to careers, or hobbies, our ability to organize and concoct atmospheres bred for our benefit is a skill in itself, the same as any other admirable quality of a person. Equally as stated previously, when ones preferred atmosphere is not available, it is those who can adapt, who can create the same comfort and duplicate performance achieved in a preferred setting whose actions and performances will reign supreme. Atmosphere follows us, it molds us and fosters our behaviors and actions more than we may ever realize. Citing the tired cliche "Put yourself in position to succeed." I take from that the meaning that position is not one thing, or place, or emotion, but rather the sum of all atmospheric conditions we encounter, some malleable & some beyond our influence, and if one can master his or her atmosphere(s), can find success despite changes and correlations, can create comfort when none is thought to exist, then he or she will ultimately flourish and succeed where so many others will fall. 

Pure, Unadulterated, Sport.

Never before have I heard of an athlete receiving more negative and berating comments regarding their physical appearance than I did last night at the pub while watching Francesca Schiavone become the first Italian to capture a grand slam championship. I'll spare you the details but none were kind, none fair, none deserved. Best of all, none of them mattered. Schiavone was clinical in her dispatching of heavily favored Australian Samantha Stosur not just in tennis, but aesthetics as well, in straight sets. She was tactical in her shot selection and her serve was on, Stosur simply could not match up. And when it was over, there stood Schiavone, grinning from ear to ear, beaming with jubilation and disbelief, eyes welling with tears, skirt covered in French clay, she genuinely looked like the happiest person on the earth and it was beautiful to watch. That ladies and gentlemen is why sport is beautiful.

Sport invites all to toil in its proving grounds, to bathe in it's glory, to sweat in its fields. It welcomes all, discriminates against none. If you want it, and will it, sport is fair with its rewards and equal in it's outcomes, win or lose. Last night was a magnificent example. A woman, arguably lacking the shiny outer coating of so many of her peers, stood on the podium alone, victorious, and loved the moment for all it was. One watching could feel her confidence, her pride, her accomplishment, her face said it all with every bead of sweat, tangled hair and smudge of clay and most importantly her fantastic smile. Schiavone championed above the rest because she deserved it, through and through. 

The attractive athlete often has access to greater media coverage, endorsement deals, glamour gigs, but at the end, if one is truly an athlete, the only goal is victory in sport. For every Kournikova there is a Schiavone, a worker, a fighter, willing to claw, scrap and wrestle for every inch of deserved success. In tennis the average peak age for a female player is between 19-24, Schiavone is 29. For twelve years she has put the axe to the grindstone, laboring with the resolve of a tectonic plate, never halting, always progressing. Last night was her pinnacle, her summit and she knew it and made every one of us know it. She was the underdog, the unknown and the long shot and yet for all the things that usually make us love someone, for her physical looks alone, no one was in her corner, only pointing, laughing, cackling. And when she won, they were quiet, selfish in their praise and acknowledgement. And it did not matter. 

Schiavone is small in stature, squatty and muscular, she lacks any natural advantages in the sport. Where as Michael Philps is scientifically built to swim with his massive feet, small torso and incredible wingspan and Usain Bolt is made to run, with incredible strides and muscle tone, Schiavone possesses nothing physically to give her a clear cut advantage in tennis. But if one watched intently, point for point, you would see it. That 'x' factor, that drive that only the elite athletes possess and all know of. She wanted it more than anyone else in the world and sport was fair, sport was just. 

 

Sport is broad, with countless avenues, all built to appeal to each and every one of us. Nearly every person in the world plays it, and loves it. Sport is a temple, a sacred forum where we can challenge ourselves as far as our minds and willpower allows. It holds no limits, no sanctions or reserves. What you put in, you WILL get out. If you doubt this, reexamine the price you are actually paying for the product you are expecting. You needn't check twice. Blond or brunette, short or tall, thin or wide, there is a place in this temple for anyone, you simply must find it. Sport makes us all beautiful. Those who develop the discipline, respect the journey, and relish the reward are those who will reap the spoils. You needn't win a gold medal, or the French Open, sport is what you make of it, it lets you set the bar, and you measure against it. Sport likes facts, results, goals and it absolutely does not care about whose they are. Schiavone knows this, thousands know this and sport ensures no one will tell them otherwise. It embraces commitment, abolishes idle, it champions obligation and dispels prejudice. Sport put Francesca on that stage last night, it gave her that cup, it evoked that incredible smile and it made damn sure that no one could take any of it from her ever. 

Bravo Schiavone, Bravo!  Congratulazioni lei lo guadagno! 

Listen only.

Eyes shut, lights off, mouth closed, earphones in, music on. It is the only way to listen. A couple of years ago, when my pursuit of hockey took me away from home and into multiple, diverse, living arrangements one constant habit followed me faithfully. On most nights I would lay awake in bed, frozen & motionless, armed only with my headphones and ipod or laptop and a select play list of nominated musical selections. I would create my own theatre and this forum would act as my escape, a refuge for my thought and only that, spared from distraction. I credit this habit for a hearty increase in musical appreciation and overall enjoyment on my part. But it was also when in this world, that I developed and understood the beauty of selective singularity amongst the senses.

We exist in a realm of distraction. Those who navigate most effectively understand this and are masters at self-direction, discipline and organization. In every task, whether assigned or volunteered we subconsciously manage and delegate our attention to a myriad of functions be they mental, physical or emotional. Take the undervalued sense of listening in this example. When you listen to a song on the radio in your car, the music itself is actually very low on your current list of priorities; I not need to list them. In a concert, visual aids and cues abound in every direction whisking away your focus and train of thought with every flash and effect, the sound simply runs in a complimentary role to the entire production. But isolate the ear, separate sound from sight, taste, smell, touch and scent and then and only then can one truly immerse himself or herself in the intended product of the artist.

Stevie Wonder is renowned for having one of the most musically trained ears in the world. He is indisputably brilliant in dissecting notes, chords and pitch. It also is no surprise that he attributes his loss of sight to his innate ability to understand and hear every component of a musical piece. Although crude, one less sense to worry about will only make the others more trained and keen. This is hardly a new concept, as it is well known that be one deaf, blind or mute, the sacrifice of a sense only lends additional complexity and strength to the others.  

The same goes for enjoying a taste of wine or bite of filet with ones eyes shut. One needs not a handicap to enjoy the perks of sensory isolation. But in the waning moments of my day, when I can in essence turn the world off, is when every chord sounds more distinguished, instrument accentuated and vocal tone defined. There is great benefit in restricting oneself from spreading his or hers concentration too thin amongst the senses. When I read, I try to do so in the same manner, void of sound and of any other distractions as possible. It is then only that I truly feel that I am capturing the intended content of the author. Granted, I do not sit in a restaurant with my eyes closed, but to that I argue if you are dining out, correctly, the food is only part of the intended experience.

I am raving about this small, subtle thought only because the difference to me in sensory experience is so distinct. When I have the ability and fortune to be able to restrict myself to only listen, is when I am able to hear the entire essence and message of artist in full. Furthermore any thoughts I conjure I do so with enhanced detail and reflections pondered with only heightened clarity. The world we exist in will never cease to provide us with more than enough for our senses to digest. And as attractive as that may be, and sound, and smell and feel, perhaps there can be greater appreciation and enjoyment found in less. Rather than spreading our cognitive capacities abreast like butter on toast, we should restrict content absorbed and devote heightened focus, pressure and meditation to only the select. For if this strategy can form diamonds in rock, shouldn’t the possibilities for our minds and bodies be equally promising? 

Running on Results

I struggle to enjoy the things I am horrible at. I credit this to a psychotic level of competitiveness I harbor within me, as well as having the often delusional confidence that I should be great at something, despite having little to no experience in it. On the flip side, I love things in which I am successful in. Few emotional rifts can rival the sensation of not only being good, but even great at something, and knowing it. It is this sensation which acts as the proverbial carrot dangling in front of our noses as we throw ourselves into any type of sport, event or activity in which the intended goal is to improve. The road to this desired level of success and confidence though is often littered with obstacles, physical and mental. Many can not handle its terrain and turn back or abandon the quest for a myriad of reasons and explanations. We have all witnessed this in various components of life, and the odds are great that we are all guilty of this unintended habit on more than one occasion. 

Today I was in the gym working on my leg strength. Anyone who knows me and my physical stature knows my lower body is an area I could probably afford to devote more attention. Unfortunately doing legs in the gym is an incredible pain in the ass. Why? Results. When we endeavour at something and exert a great deal of time and effort to a task without seeing positive gains the resulting emotional stew is often one of frustration, anger and severe questioning if the hassle is even worth it. Lack of results is why we quit sports, school, jobs, hobbies, relationships and so on. Comparatively, the presence of positive results is why we stick with all the same things. Human nature dictates a strong desire to know that the things we commit ourselves to are indeed 'worth it' and beneficial to our existence. When something does not quench our thirst for feedback, rather than working even harder, it is so much more convenient to pull the chute and move on to the next challenge. With leg exercises I'd be lying if I said I have never contemplated abandoning them completely, unfortunately this would spell disaster when your occupation depends on athletic conditioning. 

Results can exist in infinite ways. Comments, grades, emotions, appreciation, goals, awards, and so on. We all understand and know what would make us feel good and these desires vary with every single one of us. Some enjoy accolades, some thrive off of respect from peers and others might be satisfied by hitting individual goals. The challenge is finding enough results to fuel our continued passion in these disciplines and a drive to continue in them. In whatever form they might be. 

Positive reinforcement or feedback makes anyone feel great. It is no secret that the potential and performance of someone is much more effectively enhanced when infused with positive reinforcement rather than negative criticism. The problem often for many is the lack of this luxury and I believe this attributes greatly to the failures or resignations of people in all types of aforementioned endeavors. With my hockey career, I would not be playing still if I had not received positive accolades and encouragement. To support this theory I bring to light the numerous other sports I chose not to pursue, and honestly in hindsight it was because I was not as strong in them as in hockey. Or take this blog for example. If I was an awful writer, and people told me how poor my skills and talents were in this literary forum, do you think I would keep publishing? Probably not. Rather I would devote my efforts and time to something I felt more confident and fulfilled in doing, maybe an instrument or social service, who knows. Is this behavior healthy or correct? That's debatable, but for me, it's who I am and how I am and I can accept and embrace my tendencies when it leads to more successful enterprises in the long run. We all can, and we all do. 

Compliment others. This is a reoccurring theme that has surfaced many times in many different books that I have read. Make others feel good about themselves and they will hold you in a higher light. I'll admit my application and practice of this habit has been slow and premature at times but it is a discipline I am working at to improve in. This topic is the perfect canvas to utilize this popular advice and I believe if more people understood and implemented it we would see a population with increased drive, confidence and capability moving forward. We love results, of the positive variety. Whose to say we can't use one another to encourage and motivate to garner them. It is a natural tool whose applications are endless and its required effort so minute. Envision for a second what a compliment or two would do for you in a discipline in which you devote a great amount of time & effort? For me, compliments equal encouragement and encouragement makes me exponentially more confident and inspired to push myself further in the passions in which I excel. Try it, or better yet try to capture and memorize the way the next compliment you receive makes you feel, few things are better. 

I am not justifying that people should only do things in which they are strong. Everything we do and throw ourselves at was new and challenging at some point. But the beauty here is WHY we choose to stick with select passions. To undergo the hardships and the occasions when we didn't feel so great, our confidence dwindled and we considered if it was really worth it. Every ones reasons are different. Yet I theorize that all contained some type of positive reinforcement along the way yielding positive results that propelled us onward and upward. If we all looked back on the choices we made in what to devote ourselves to I believe the activities and disciplines we chose are the ones in which we received the most positive encouragement and motivating feedback. In contrast, review the instances where you gave up on a hobby, perhaps where you cited a "Lack of interest" or "decrease in satisfaction" and really examine the level of positive reinforcement you received. I'm willing to wager that it wasn't much. 

 From the five year old on the soccer field to the thirty five year old in the board room, a pat on the back and "great job" will always have the same effects in motivation and encouragement. Results are defined per individual. And whether it is a global accolade or recognition from a friend, both can have incredibly positive effects in pushing someone to keep up the good work. If we all commit to creating more results and markers in any conceivable form for one another I have no doubt as a collective whole our passions will grow, our efforts will thrive and confidence flourish in every conceivable discipline or path that we so choose. 

As always, thank you for taking the time to read my mind. Feedback is always encouraged. 

Second Servings

Throughout my time in Australia last year I constantly was reinforcing the notion that I needed to absorb and enjoy every spec of this country that I could because the odds were slim I would ever be back. At least for a while. So with every adventure, beach, land mass, reef and historical sight, I clicked hundreds of photos, determined to attack the sights and sounds with the tenacity of a stereotypical uber-tourist. The result was a photo collection I will cherish for the remainder of my life, but in review, I felt that although the pictures might show a grandiose journey, that I failed to really extract the essence of the country. I felt like a food critic on iron chef, willing myself to enjoy every culinary creation as much as possible while constantly fighting the anxiety and attraction of the next dish in line. My initial excitement and 'awe' of being in a foreign land I felt at times would trump the pure enjoyment and experience of certain occasions. 

The saying goes that you never get a second chance to make a good first impression, but if the first impression is great, does that guarantee infinite satisfaction in the following encounters? At what point does our satisfaction peak ? In college economics we learned of utility, or marginal satisfaction, where ones level of enjoyment or gratification follows a parabola of enjoyment, rising and then eventually falling with over-consumption. Furthermore, this effect is particularly measurable with food, or a movie, but what about a extended tangible experience such as travel? In this instance, the Australian continent. A concern of mine before returning was would I truly enjoy and appreciate this voyage as a sequel as much as I had the first time, or would it be old hat, routine and unoriginal to my senses and aspirations. I booked a ticket and decided to find out. 

A couple hundred miles south of Sydney on the southeast coast of Australia lies Murramurang National Park. Centered on historical holy lands of the aboriginal tribes this preserved virgin coastline and towering coastal eucalyptus forests remain relatively untouched from public probes. Last year I made the trip down from Canberra numerous times to explore and chart new beaches and enclaves, finding extreme samples of beauty in their most natural form and this happened time after time. I couldn't get enough. I had discovered Pretty Beach along with my then girlfriend Michelle and we were unanimous in declaring it the jewel of our journeys. Yesterday was the first time I returned and as we drove, my good friend Sean co-piloted our 1989 Toyota Tourago Van, I was curious to if the sights and beauty that I knew so well from last year would remain and flourish as I remembered. It absolutely did. 

Pretty Beach was arguably the most impressive find of my travels last year. With a sequestered cove of crystal clear aqua water, divine silica beaches and stunning coastal rock formations a traveler can not ask for more. Kangaroo packs sit grazing in the surrounding grasslands, indifferent to visitors. A few hundred feet off the beach sits a rocky sea-life burgeoning island accessible between tides and the absolute tipping point in the deal is that on more times than not, one can enjoy such a sublime setting without another human soul in sight. 

As I walked the beach and swam in the crisp waters, scaling familiar rock formations and admiring in the same I could sense my love of this place only growing. For me, the ocean was a little more blue, the trees more vibrant shades of greens, the sun glowed a tad brighter and the sand crunched just a bit nicer under my feet. Pretty Beach may have made a wonderful first impression, but it was it's incredible consistency and ability to deliver the same goods and then some, a year apart that really cemented it as a love of mine, as far as locales go. Of course I still was joined by my camera, yet instead of snapping photos in an attempt to capture and hold every spec of splendor, this time I was relaxed and free to appreciate all the glory the landscape had to offer. And I still took too many pictures! 

Yesterdays trip revitalized my enjoyment of being back in Australia. It excited and inspired me to not waste this experience. I am confident that combined with the knowledge acquired last year, and experience, that I can really enjoy this land mass and evoke even more satisfaction from it this time around. Consistency is an extremely underrated component of emotional enjoyment. Why do we return to our favorite restaurants? Because they consistently deliver the finest in quality goods and services. From those we find comfort in knowing exactly what to expect. When we are comfortable and relaxed, we open ourselves up to only enhanced and exaggerated enjoyment. That is where I am at in Australia in 2010. I am relaxed, I know how beautiful and captivating this place can be, I've seen it. And from this I can not wait to live the satisfaction brought to me yesterday in Murramurang, over and over from Sydney to Melbourne, up to Cairns and down to the Gold Coast. Australia succeeded in branding within me a fantastic first impression, but it's the second that I believe will really seal the deal.  

Stratosphere Strategy

If I could spend one hour a day, somewhere between thirty and thirty five thousand feet, I truly believe my productivity, imagination and clarity in life would improve exponentially. I love to fly. I love the vantage point of it all, surveying miniature landscapes, frozen in appearance, peaceful and surreal. The colors seem brighter, the weather phenomena entrancing and just the process of flight has always had a special effect on my mind and soul. Yet a unrecognized and under appreciated trait of flying only began to become more obvious to me in the past year or so. I love to think when in the air. Something in my mind activates, doors typically closed to thought and curiosities are blown open, ideas pour in and unfurl like a snowball down a mountain. I have planned my life many times from a window seat in the past five years and the trend seems sure to continue. 

But why is it that a often cramped, leg restricting, belted, lumbar lacking  seat can provide the necessary medium for so many fresh and invigorating thoughts? Is it the purified oxygen pumping aggressively through the cabin, feeding the mind ? Perhaps it is the consistency of the engine noise setting the tone for the journey? It very well could be the powerful panoramic scenes slipping silently beneath the wings, or even something as trivial as the honey roasted, scratch that, now salted peanuts. Whatever the source, the aforementioned ingredients of flying blend melodiously perfect for me and my cerebral capabilities. 

I suspect many great events have been directly planned or influenced while in aerial transition. Every global leader flies countless miles annually. Globalization of the worlds business scheme has demanded more and more corporate Goliath's to take to the skies. Sports executives, agents, and athletes travel incredible distances to negotiate and barter, all before the first play. The symmetrical examples are infinite. And then there is me, a twenty six year old vagabond semi-professional hockey player with developing business aspirations who with every take off and ascent feels oddly more driven, focused and creative with no solid reasoning to explain. Flying just does it for me. 

Whatever the scientific explanation is, if one does exist, it is of little importance. I will continue to embrace and utilize my time in the skies, applying it's altitude induced benefits to every text, spreadsheet, Venn diagram or life outline I may contrive. Where others might feel fear & unease, I find solace and view life and it's questions with a new sense of lucidity. The miracle of flight has always been there in helping me reach my desired destinations. It has also taken me to some great places as well.