:Lonely: in Cambrdige

Sometimes I sit alone under the stars and think of the galaxies inside my heart and truly wonder if anyone will ever want to make sense of all that I am-

Tis the season for “thankfulness” posts, acts of appreciation and a warm glowing sensation of gratitude wafting in the chilly air outside. As if some magical switch is naturally flipped, our thoughts turn towards being grateful this Thanksgiving week. I have found myself thinking more about what loving kindness means, and how it relates to being “thankful” after a series of rather unusual events for me personally the past two weeks.

I’m lonely and saddened here in Cambridge, by the idea, that we change how we feel, in order to fit a superficial idea of what kindness and thankfulness should be during this time of the year. Kindness to me, is a light that shines from the inside, every day. Loving kindness is the warmth we share with others in a cold yoga studio or stopping to offer your only spare tube to another rider walking home in the pouring rain (thanks mate!). Kindness can also be the simple act of touching someone’s shoulder, gently reminding them they left their umbrella on the bus seat while traveling home. Kindness resides in our heart(s). Kindness, is living with a deep sense of gratitude, giving sincere “thanks.

What if this Thanksgiving we pause to give thanks for the compassion and kindness that surrounds us?

Daily Meditation:

When I’m able to do this? The loneliness that grips me will subside, and my true spirit will glow.

CultFit Kindness

Without :Me:

It really has been too long since my last “real” post hasn’t it?!? What could Rapha, Camyoga, cyclocross racing, buddhism and minimalism have anything to do with your humble blog-o-thing? I suppose starting next week we will find out together, until then? Take care and have a wonderful weekend!



Winter Winds Cold and Blea

Winter winds cold and blea
Chilly blows o’er the lea:
Wander not out to me,
Jenny so fair,
Wait in thy cottage free.
I will be there.

Wait in thy cushioned chair
Wi’ thy white bosom bare.
Kisses are sweetest there:
Leave it for me.
Free from the chilly air
I will meet thee.

How sweet can courting prove,
How can I kiss my love
Muffled in hat and glove
From the chill air?
Quaking beneath the grove,
What love is there!

Lay by thy woollen vest,
Drape no cloak o’er thy breast:
Where my hand oft hath pressed,
Pin nothing there:
Where my head droops to rest,
Leave its bed bare.

John Clare

CultFit Fall

Far too : Long :

Everything has to change … Till the last cowboy is gone-

Not a moment, not one, has passed that I haven’t thought, deeply … About you – My Dear Readers. We have much to catch up on, in due time we will. Until then?!? Be inspired and have a beautiful weekend!


Trying to tie my shoes, clumsy, not able to work out
the logic of it, fumbling, as my father stands there,
his anger growing over a son who can’t even do
this simplest thing for the first time, can’t even manage
the knot to keep his shoes on—You think someone’s
going to tie your shoes for you the rest of your life?—
No, I answer, forty-five years later, tying my shoe,
hands trembling with this memory. My father
and all those years of childhood not being able to work out
how he loved me, a knot so tight it has taken all my life
to untie.

Joseph Stroud

CultFit Fall


I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, “This is what it is to be happy”-

Saunter into your local yoga studio and undoubtedly you will inundated with talk about – Mindfulness.

Why is this so? Primarily due to the images of relaxation, stillness, or acting in some idealistic way that mindfulness provides us in this atmosphere. Most yogi’s and mindfulness “practitioners” operate under the assumption that mindfulness, means continually being calm, serene and in control of your surrounding, even as the lady next to you in class rolls out her mat inches away from your perfectly oriented to the East sacred space. It’s because of this, that a mindfulness practice often feels as though we are failing in life, it erodes our personal sense of self-worth. Breaking News – Life is hard enough without aiming to be mindful and perfect all the damn time. Mindfulness, to me, is not a quest for perfection.

My mindfulness practice revolves around a well-known and often forgotten aspect about “life” – Life itself is deeply unpredictable. To translate the last statement into laymen terms – Life sucks most of the time, imperfection is the norm, and perfectionism will only lead you down a dark path. It’s how we live with and balance these hardships, that influences our moment-to-moment, mindful well-being. Even while practicing mindfulness, I can’t for the life of me, pay attention for an extended period of time. You know what most easily distracts me? It’s not the blonde hair or being a dude, or some new person in class Its my own mind. I’m continually lost in my thoughts yet again, even right now. Yet, I bring myself back to the moment, even while dropping a screw fixing my bike or forgetting someones name I just met.

Many yogis’ or whatever, shroud themselves in the serious of a mindfulness practice, what’s lost is our collective sense of humor. Our minds often do what they want without us, if you can, look around during class and notice the stern faces and the concentration poured into being “mindful.” I often find myself spending an awful lot of effort aiming for something not fully attainable during class, during life. Mindfulness and a healthy dose of perfectionism only serve to make me feel worse about myself. The secret ingredient that is missing? A heartfelt smile and a sense of humility.

Daily Meditation:

Shit happens in life, I make a mess of things a dozen or more times during the day. Mindfulness allows me to find comfort and humility in the midst of a crazy life. There’s no perfect mindfulness practice – Just you. I’m flawed and so is everyone else, but when you aim for improvement, instead of perfection? Everyone smiles.

CultFit Perfection


Theirs is a perfection of pure form.
Nobody but has his proper place and knows it.
Everything they do is functional.
Each foray in a zigzag line
Each prodigious lifting
Of thirty-two times their own weight
Each excavation into the earth’s core
Each erection
Of a crumbly parapetted tower —

None of these feats is a private pleasure,
None of them done
For the sake of the skill alone —

They’ve got a going concern down there,
A full egg-hatchery
A wet-nursery of aphids
A trained troop of maintenance engineers
Sanitation experts
A corps of hunters
And butchers
An army

A queen
Is nothing without the others, each being a part
Of something greater than all of them put together
A purpose which none of them knows
Since each is only
The one thing that he does. There is
A true consistency
Toward which their actions tend.
The ants have bred and inbred to perfection.
The strains of their genes that survive survive.
Every possible contingency
Has been foreseen and written into the plan.

Nothing they do will be wrong.

Daniel Hoffman

CultFit Ants


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