So happy; I could die: Thoughts of a recently married man.

I've been married for a little more than a month. During that time, several people have asked me what it feels like -- if it feels any different to be married. The easy answer was, no, it doesn't feel much different. After all, this isn't something Frances and I went into lightly, and having lived together for almost two years prior, we had essentially been living the life of a married couple.

There are, however, a few differences I've noticed that can't be articulated as well in a sentence as they can be here. So for those of you who asked and got the short answer, here's the long answer.

One of the major differences is that I'm more aware of my own mortality than I ever have been. In the run up to the wedding, I joked to a few friends about having these moments, mostly when I'm driving too fast. I catch myself thinking, Slow down. You can't die now. You're not allowed to die now. I'm stunned twice over by thoughts like this for two reasons:

a) The obvious feeling of fear or anxiety that something like driving didn't used to provoke.

b) That I was once so non-nonchalant about the possibility of dying. Not that I had a death wish or was suicidal. I knew the end was out there, but I was confident that it wouldn't be today. It wouldn't be for a long time. Now, I'm not so sure...

As a married man, the anxiety that was once a dull hum is now more audible, especially while doing the following: wandering down dark streets, encountering black bears while walking the dog, riding in boats, or operating or repairing any piece of equipment with the potential maim or kill. This includes, but is not limited to, putting new brakes on my car, testing the draw length and weight of my bow, crossing busy streets, and moving a chainsaw from one side of the garage to the other.

It's not that I'm paralyzed with fear. But being married has made me more aware of how temporary and fragile life is. Maybe this is part of the reason why married men tend to live longer. I love my wife. I love our life together. I don't want it to end. So maybe I'll pass on that motorcycle. Maybe I'll skip out before the last round. Maybe I'll have another helping of Brussels sprouts.

Whatever it takes to give me more time with her.

Intentions | Survival

“The theme of the white belt is survival, nothing more and nothing less. After all, this is what the white belt has to do from the first day of class. He is not going to arrive in class and beat the best. He has no one to whom he can compare himself because he is still an empty vessel. Although one often takes up jiu-jitsu to learn submissions, the first lesson for the beginner is survival. Before he moves on, the white belt must become a survivor.”

— Jiu-Jitsu University, by Saulo Ribeiro

After a week-and-a-half hiatus from the mats, I'm back to practicing Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. It amazes me how a new practice can become so integral to my routine that being away for a short period of time is enough to get me down. But that affirms how beneficial BJJ is.

It felt great to be back at the Sunday morning white belt fundamentals class. The lesson was a good reinforcement on lapel chokes. I rolled three or four times, once with a brown belt and once with a blue belt. I had no answers for what they were throwing at me, and did my best to avoid situations that would result in me having to tap out.

But I was able to surprise a few of the higher-ranking white belts. Inevitably, though, I'd overextend myself, make a mistake, and get caught in some kind of submission. Tap. Repeat. Just like the sparring sessions with the higher ranks.

Later in the day, I was at home nursing my wounds when I came across the passage at the top of the post. It brought me back to earth. I've taken the first few steps of what will be a long journey. Reaching for submissions, overextending myself and making mistakes amount to trying to sprint before I can crawl.

There's also something liberating about being "an empty vessel," as Ribeiro says. It takes ego out of the equation. He writes, "Practice jiu-jitsu with a childlike mind. Have you ever considered why children have such an accelerated learning curve? Part of the reason is that they are more concerned with enjoyment than ego. Try to envelop yourself in a child's naivety."

Intentions | Growth

I took a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu class yesterday. This was my first time rolling, but not my first martial arts experience. I practiced Koei-Kan Karate for about three years as a kid. The experience was beneficial, but ultimately, I had other interests -- football, chief among them. I climbed only as high as some degree of green belt.

Martial arts appeal to me for the same reason that football did. I'm about as un-athletic, uncoordinated and goofy as a guy can get (see the image above). To compensate, I focused -- in football and karate -- on mental discipline instead. I couldn't outrun our out muscle anybody, but I could push myself further and keep a clearer head under pressure.

Level-headedness abandoned me yesterday. Running through the first lesson with my coworker, Joe, my heart rate spiked. I was pouring sweat by about ten minutes in. I had opened the bottomless pit of energy that only adrenaline can supply. It was like the fight was real. I knew I was going to crash out when the well of energy ran dry.

Over the course of the class, Joe pointed out a few of the black belts. They had been rolling for about 45 minutes at that point and were just beginning to break a sweat. Their breathing was even and measured. To me, they weren't reacting to what their opponent was doing so much as they were observing, analyzing and responding.

I was definitely reacting. At one point, I caught myself flailing and closing my eyes as I tried to break out of Joe's guard, only to be swept onto my back. I laughed at how little I knew.

I'm banged up this morning. The tops of my feet are short some skin. My forearms look like a martian landscape. A few vertebrae in my neck seem to have fused in my sleep. But I feel amazing. I'm building something new.

Five for Friday. 07.10.15.

Something new I want to try, inspired by a recent Tim Ferriss newsletter I got. Here are five quick hits of things I found to be useful or interesting this week.

1. The Big Broadcast on WFUV, every Sunday night from 8 p.m. to 12 a.m. Big band music. Pour yourself a cocktail, read a good book and ease into another work week.
2. Extra virgin coconut oil. I've been putting it in my breakfast smoothies, and it seems to give me the promised ketogenic energy boost. I feel sharper and more alert earlier in the morning.
3. Sitting on the floor. When I'm at home reading, watching TV or screwing around on the internet, I've been sitting on the floor instead of a couch or chair. The end result: I end up changing position and consequently, moving more often than I would if I were seated. I sit all damn day. The last thing I need is more sit time.
4. The Stand by Stephen King. If I had five days to do nothing but plow through this epic tome, I would. I was a snob when it came to King. But he's great. You can be talented and commercially successful.
5. Wonderlist. The perfect, free app for staying on task and getting shit done.

Home.

As I mentioned earlier in the week, I recently moved back to the burbs. It is with a degree of swallowed pride that I say that I've moved into the lower level of my parent's mother-daughter house with my bride-to-be. With the prohibitive cost of pretty much everything here in New Jersey, this is our best shot at saving to buy a home of our own once we're married.

It's a prudent move, and my parents are two of the kindest, most welcoming people you'll ever meet. But, there's pride. And that little shit insists on reminding me that I'm almost thirty, and after five years on my own, I'm living with my parents again.

I've been back for a week now, and overall, things feel great. I attribute that to the environment more than anything else. I've been waking and sleeping with the sun. My post-workout cool down has been a walk with one of my parents' dogs. My nightly 1,000 words seem to come faster than they used to. 

I'm a country boy from the hills of northern New Jersey. And yes, I relish the contradiction in that statement. Here, there are fewer distractions. You can see the stars at night. And deer, bears and coyotes wander through my front yard. Nature pushes back here. And that will always be my idea of home.