Someone posted this last week. My Google Fu is terrible, so I don’t know who to credit. Sorry. A hat tip to whoever it was.

That article really hit a chord with me. Love or hate Henry Rollins, he says what is on his mind. For those of you not familiar with Mr. Rollins. Here he is in his prime.

 

 

This paragraph is where it grabbed me. “It took me years to fully appreciate the value of the lessons I have learned from the Iron. I used to think that it was my adversary, that I was trying to lift that which does not want to be lifted. I was wrong. When the Iron doesn’t want to come off the mat, it’s the kindest thing it can do for you. If it flew up and went through the ceiling, it wouldn’t teach you anything. That’s the way the Iron talks to you. It tells you that the material you work with is that which you will come to resemble.”

Preach it Henry. In a world of subjective craziness, it’s a delight to encounter an objective standard. I have done something, or I have not. I have achieved something, or I have not. I am making progress, or I am not. The Iron always tells you the truth. It is completely candid. Whether you are flattered or embarrassed, the Iron always tells you the truth.

 

 

“I learned that nothing good comes without work and a certain amount of pain. When I finish a set that leaves me shaking, I know more about myself. When something gets bad, I know it can’t be as bad as that workout.” This must be some sort of universal phenomenon. I have had days in court that were just ugly. The moment I walked away from counsel table I thought to myself, “it wasn’t as bad this morning’s workout.” The moment I was alone, I smiled to myself.

Rollins wrote long before Covid-19, “I prefer to work out alone. It enables me to concentrate on the lessons that the Iron has for me. Learning about what you’re made of is always time well spent, and I have found no better teacher. The Iron had taught me how to live. Life is capable of driving you out of your mind. The way it all comes down these days, it’s some kind of miracle if you’re not insane. People have become separated from their bodies. They are no longer whole.” After two years of insanity in California, this is so much the truth. Closing gyms for a time only made it worse. Being in the gym, feeling whatever it is I am feeling that day, grasping my connection to my physical being, provides a grounding unobtainable anywhere else.

This week’s music.