Here is the new home of Alice, Henry and Rebecca, if the raccoons don’t get them. Click image for link to Andy Fleishman’s site for some great art. Thanks for fostering my shellfish, Andy.
Hi folks, welcome!
I’ve come to realize that humans, including yours truly, are pretty capricious with respect to managing their expectations, and when it comes to their relations with other species. I have no idea about the expectations of my readers, but apparently it’s very important for bloggers - I’ll try harder; if anyone knows what my readers might expect of this blog, please let me know. Me! I just enjoy writing and thinking about things.
This great book keeps me relatively sane and happy most of the time.
If you can spend your life living in the moment, or the NOW of Eckhart Tolle (I love that book), you’ll never be disappointed, you’ll just be happy to be, without having to worry about expectations - I think that is the key to contentment, but best of luck getting there.
Managing expectations is an interesting issue that was raised in a kind comment by Glenn in response to my irritation with having to walk much of the run in my recent half Ironman race.
Glenn’s comment got me thinking:
“What are my expectations in life, and more specifically Ironman races, and how do they differ from the expectations of other species, and other members of my species, and how do they cope?”
First let’s get Ironman races out of the way with a vignette from the recent Eagleman Half Ironman a week or so ago - I had a very strange encounter with a fellow athlete. It went like this:
From left to right, Rebecca, Henry and Alice, North Carolina, freshwater mussels, and they are big, weighing over half-pound each. Neat creatures. Photo by FitOldDog.
I’m a good swimmer, though I struggle with running, so I was well near the front of my age group coming out of the water. It was a nice 1.2-mile swim in the Choptank River, though slow for some reason, probably due to water current combined with my age! I came out of the river, and walked towards the mat, which takes the race time from a computer chip on our ankles, recording the official moment we finished the swim. Then I heard a voice, saying, “Kevin!” I turned around to see another member of my age group coming towards me out of the water (guess you could call him a competitor, but we are 70-74 years old and lucky to be there - I think that we are really competing against the grim reaper, not each other). As he came towards me onto the beach he said, “What are you doing here, Kevin?” Coming closer all the while. I replied, “I’m enjoying the race!” Then he made a dash for the mat, going over it a second or so ahead of me, and vanished into the swim to bike transition. I had been tricked into dropping one place in the swim leg of the race.”
You can just see Alice in her new home, chez Andy. Photo by FitOldDog.
He and I clearly had different expectations of this race, his to do his damnedest to win, mine to not break my stent graft again. I guess we both managed our expectations quite well, though I’m still amused and bemused by his behavior.
But what about non-humans?
What do they expect and how do they manage these expectations? This is where my capricious human behavior comes in, influencing their lives in the oddest of ways. For instance, I was recently presented with three large fresh water mussels from a local lake by my friend, Stacey, who said that she thought I might like to eat them as I enjoy seafood (well, aquatic food, OK!). I expressed my appreciation, left them in the fresh water they arrive in, in a large bowl, but I couldn’t bring myself to cook them.
They were still alive.
Ants in our kitchen, drinking ant Kool-Aid, provided by FitOldDog.
I had plenty of food, and they hadn’t done me any harm, and I was wondering about their expectations, which I’m sure didn’t included being boiled alive. So, I decided to let them go, like the frogs in that old movie, E.T. I fortunately found them a new home with my artist friend, Andy Fleishman, which was a relief. It was probably the oddest favor I’d asked of Andy in the 30 years I’ve known him. I think giving the mussels names, Rebecca, Henry and Alice, respectively, was where all this got out of hand, but it saved those mussels.
When it came to ants, however, it was different story, and it occurred on the same day. Ants are so numerous, it’s pretty well impossible to give them each a name when they invade our kitchen, so I kill them with ant bait instead. But they were still alive too! How’s that for capricious?
Do freshwater mussels and ants have expectations to manage, I wonder? I still am not sure, but I bet they do, though the ants’s expectations are probably at the colony level, don’t you think?
Cheers,
Kevin aka FitOldDog
Important Note: These posts do not provide medical advice. You should always consult your physician before undertaking or significantly modifying an exercise program.
Copyright © 2010 Kevin T. Morgan aka FitOldDog, Old Dogs in Training, LLC.
You are such a philosopher! Expectations…hmmmm.
Oh, and Eckhart Tolle is great. What would he have said to you during that long Ironman walk? I think I know.
Hi Marsha! He would have said what I should have said to myself, had I been that spiritually evolved, but at least I’m working on it, and was pretty well over my funk within a few hours. Next time minutes, then only in my head, then not at all. Yes, I’ve been accused of being a philosopher before, in scientific meetings, where it was meant as a slur, but I take it as the greatest compliment. I do like to think about thinking, an important subject of study. Bedtime! -k
Ants as slaves to a Stalinist state? As such ok to kill! Are you postulating “better dead than red”?
Nope, not OK to kill without clear justification. My expectation is few ants in the kitchen, so I’ve decided to manage it differently. Fire ants are another problem entirely.