Around the Mountain


Recently I began looking at how I would put together a series of hypnosis sessions for people who are trying to lose weight, mostly because it was what began to interest me as I couldn't button my Levis without sucking it in. I always tell my daughter that public radio and television is like a free college education, so it wasn't surprising that I turned to PBS for information on how to slim down.

"You can't help other people with it if you don't do it yourself," Linda said. What she doesn't realize is that when I look in the mirror I still see the slim young dude I used to be. That's because I never, ever, look at myself from the side, because I'm afraid of finding I've developed Alfred Hitchcock's shadow. If I look at myself head on, and suck in my belly, I look hot. That's because instead of developing my abs, I developed my imagination. It works great so long as confrontation with outer reality is avoided.

Another example was going bald. I didn't know about it because I never looked at myself from above. I only looked at myself head on, and while I had to admit I was looking distinguished, with that high forehead, I had no image of myself as a bald guy. You can get away with these things when you are married and off the market.

But what if everything went topsy turvy?

One of the arguments I've heard against gay marriage is that it would open the door to multiple partner marriage as well as marriage between people and animals, or ... both! Imagine that. While some animals would be easy prey for an old man -- chickens for example -- it might not be so easy with a gazelle or even an antelope. These are animals that stay in shape, and a fat old man wouldn't stand a chance. As Quentin Crisp once advised, "Our attitude should be existential. That is to say, swim with the tide, but faster."

And so I have begun to shape up in anticipation of a bestial free for all in my golden years. It will give a whole new meaning to "game park."

I started climbing Thumb Butte, a landmark in Prescott, as part of an effort to lower my "bad" cholesterol. The trail up the butte is really, really steep. It is paved and runs in switchbacks up the side to the top. There is another trail that goes up a more gentle slope, is not paved, and doesn't make your heart pound out, "nine one one, nine one one." Some people go up the steep path and down the gentle path, and some do it the other way around. These people always meet somewhere on the circle.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. A couple of weeks earlier I watched a special on PBS from a doctor who talked about weight loss. From him I learned some essential ingredients: Eat a fibrous breakfast, have the main meal at lunch, and stop eating big meals in the evening; exercise, but just exercise isn't enough. It has to be interval training in order to reset the metabolism. In other words, one has to work out hard enough to hit the edge of capacity. That means, for example, you can't just jog, like I was doing, even if you go several miles. You have to do something that requires an extra effort, or exertion, such as sprints.

I had changed my eating habits by cutting down on evening meals, but I wasn't really thinking of interval training when I started climbing Thumb Butte. All I was thinking was that I should take my cell phone in case I had a cardiac incident, because I was breathing like an alligator as soon as I started up. But second wind in old guys isn't necessarily an insulting noise. With time I began to scamper up the mountain like a billy goat. And in a couple of weeks or so I noticed that my belt was out of notches. I was doing interval training, and a workout that took half the time of my running was having much better results.

Climbing the butte also enhanced my relationship with Sammy the Dog (we're just best friends), who has begun to whine and run in circles when he sees me putting on my shoes in the mornings. He stays behind me on the trail, not requiring a leash unless we are meeting up with other dogs. We also meet up with people who, like us, have made it a daily meditation to climb the mountain.

One of the people we meet almost every day is an old guy from Los Angeles named Roland, who seems to be connected into a lot of New Age thought. When I told him I do hypnosis he thought I was a new ager, too, and began to talk to me about a book on past life regression.

"Actually, I don't do past life regressions," I said.

"Oh. You said you're a hypnotist. Do you do stop smoking things and so on?"

"Not really. About all I work with is the development of objectivity, which means I try not to install any belief systems that don't have a specific and limited purpose, such as relaxing the muscles or dealing with irrational fears."

He looked a bit disappointed. I understand. There's a whole world out there of magic crystals and hot stones and guardian angels and channeled spirits. I don't deny it. As I explained to Roland when he pressed me a bit on what I think, I try to separate church and state inside myself, because if people can't do it inside themselves, it won't manifest in the larger context of the American culture. Like the schizophrenic, there will be no "box" drawn around the illusion to keep it separate from the shared experience which must stand the test of the critical faculties. Just because it would be splendid for something to be true isn't the test of its being true.

Once I worked a weekend seminar with a woman who was rich from playing big mama to a bunch of equally rich addicts. She had an uncanny instinct for keeping them strung along with her program, which was cobbled together with three or four pretty mainstream modalities. For example, she had borrowed from Fritz Perls the idea of having them talk to imaginary people, from primal scream the idea of letting their emotions out without censure, etc.

To my amazement, though, she was also inculcating in these people belief systems which had no exposure to critical thinking. She had me read two books to begin working with her. One of them was "The Celestine Prophecy," and the other I forget. It was supposedly channeled by some star child from alien beings who control all of us earthlings. Only special people, however, are actually contacted. What makes them special is that instead of using critical faculties and digesting information, they sort of vomit it in unexamined form, like people did a few thousand years ago.

There is a quote about development of intellect, and though I don't recall its origin and can't locate it, it went something like, "The more developed a person's intellect, the less other people can be to them." I think that may be true. I don't think I'm smart, because, like Steve Martin said in a Terry Gross interview, he has known really smart people and he is to them like his dog is to him. I know the feeling. But I keep trying to be smarter than I used to be, anyway.

I'm smart enough to keep climbing Thumb Butte, and to stay just best friends with Sammy, even when he makes advances on my leg and I sing love songs to him.



There's a place for us,
Somewhere a place for us.
Peace and quiet and open air
Wait for us somewhere.

Posted: Mon - October 2, 2006 at 04:38 PM