Tag Archives: strong

High: Pure Being


bell-6

The blood stops short trapped before a hair tie, until I release the bun of tension:  post exercise of body-induced drama.  This is the captivating magic of night.

*

The mind works itself into heavy persuasion.  The body labors with intense urging.  The heart never questions what the goals are or what state of peak condition or overwhelmed fatness I stand in.  A sober thought I do entertain is how someone can not understand the significance of body awareness and its dynamism.

I have a passionate addiction to adrenaline and to the exclusive kick of the way my muscles drum within its act of compulsion.  The heart skips, skips and skips uninhibited.  It beats obsessively and storms out my mouth like an aggressive bird.  It ignites the fight and frenzy over the psyche and tissue land of freedom.

I’ve failed many times and am more successful because of every stoppage.  And now every weakness is formed into substantial strength and what strength has already been established has now constructed itself into marble and stone.

The focus is better determined than years previous.  The focus is better established than the last set and the mind-muscle connection tastes stronger than the last seething rep.  I’ve been sucked into a craving that’s unaware of its bounds.  I throw my fists into the air to battle and enter new coordination and balance ground.

My chest hovers over the floor, shoulders and triceps contract, hum and weep pushing up 200lbs plus over and over again.  The brace of my abdominals is my body’s endless support and savior.  Now there’s a surge spreading like a wild forest fire burning each of my hamstring fibers and into every angle and groove of my glutes with a various amount of hip thrust and single-leg pelvic bridges I can muster under time and tension.  The inner thigh screams by its own distress signals and fleshly vulnerability.  The burn degrees increase and I pull my center deeply to the spine to further the accuracy of the focal point along with the present.

I grimace in pain and drill my teeth into my own mouth.  I start to elevate and disappear like smoke.  I’m high now and there’s an exit.  I’m high and there are no thoughts struggling its way to birth other thoughts.  I’m high and suddenly there are no problems in the world.  There is no suffering.  There is only bliss and light.  There is only presence and heaven.  There is only the state of pure being.

-Pennington

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Shameless


Ms. Marvel 1

I haven’t been pissed off all day.  The day has been good to me and I honestly can’t complain although I tried on 6 pairs of Lululemon Athletica pants to find the perfect fit and eventually gave up though that was my Personal Best in a fitting room in my lifetime.  Oh and I failed with 2 1/2lbs dumbbells with a Master Trainer working on my rotator cuff injury.  But, the point is, I like to be angry.  So now I’ve been looking for something to upset me and naturally I found it!

Here’s the question:  Why would Pauline Nordin (creator and founder of FightDiet.com) openly and publicly bash Dana Linn Bailey (an IFBB Pro) on her Facebook Page?

I don’t understand it.  In general, I will never understand why women rather put one another down as oppose to lend a helping hand or “bigging them up” in the process of dedication and discipline in a world where we bleed monthly cycles, choose to give life and where religion crucifies us.  We need unity in order to reach the top globally.

Growing up I used to believe it was the men who kept women down (aside from powerful political positions, etc and such).  But the older I became, the more I started to observe how horrible women are to other women without rhyme or reason.  They just lash out for their own purpose, own agendas and quite possibly for no other reason than perhaps they didn’t bond with their biological mother or someone spilled coffee on their favorite blouse.  Who really knows?

So, no, I don’t agree with women hating on other women ESPECIALLY when it concerns bodysculpting and/or bodybuilding and all that applies concerning this subject.  It’s difficult for any woman to build muscle or to get super lean for thousands of reasons say hormones to holding a higher percentage of bodyfat than men.

And for a woman who’s supposed to be for women everywhere, who considers herself a business/professional woman and a public figure with lots of fans on her Facebook Page who constantly pushes her FighterDiet concept to everyone (to become lean and muscular) to state (while displaying a photo of DLB) that she finds another Fitness Model a Nay as oppose to a Yay and isn’t sexy or healthy is downright disgusting.  It says a lot about her character.  Mostly her flaws within them.

Why preach about being lean and muscular but get on another woman’s case for being exactly that?  It’s basically calling the kettle black.

For me, it’s important to have support, to never put people down even when they’re starting from a low place (or in this case super high place).  Naturally I would presume that the Fitness Industry should be here as a community of like-minded supportive individuals for crying out loud.  Granted we may not all see eye to eye or share the same physique ideals or have the same training/diet philosophies.  But this is why it’s important to be an individual, to be different, to be unique, to be humble, to have integrity.  But also to be respectful of others.

The fact remains that the Fitness Industry and the Fitness Enthusiasts and Pros should be the first to lend a healthy and high demand of concern and care for the very same people who put in their hard work and effort regardless of how one is perceived physically because their beliefs are “it’s not feminine or sexy-looking.”  And what does it matter to you/her if you aren’t the person you’re speaking of?  What’s feminine?  What constitutes as masculine?  Is it a label?  Or a matter of perception?  Are they illusions? Or a matter of stereotypes?

This woman Pauline isn’t immune to body issues like the millions of women on the universe.  There have been statuses and even blog related posts about how people get on her case for how she looks like:  Strong, muscly and very lean.  So to pick, give a public statement/opinion on another Pro’s body is outrageous and it comes off like a form of betrayal.  Mostly for every other woman who does take the art and sport of building muscle and getting lean seriously (which sadly, includes herself).

It’s 2012 and we’re going into 2013 and there are lots of women who still refuse to get a handle on things.  By things, I mean what’s wrong and what’s right. When it comes to assisting and encouraging other women with everything involving Fitness (and out of it) and their daily lives.  It’s a moral and dignity game.

Can women allow other women to live muscular and strong?  Can other women find it within themselves to learn how to be encouraging rather than put another woman down for being who she wants to be?  (Aside from sluts.  Fuck sluts! ;-))  When you judge someone based completely on looks (or money or what car they drive or what books they read), it says a lot about one’s character FLAWS.. especially when one is doing it in public for others (especially their fans) to see.

It’s utterly shameless.

-Pennington

Qualm


I showered one night and lathered up in the unchanged way I always do, half grudgingly and the other with methodical certainty from bulky arms, to bursting bosoms, to pooch belly, to smooth waist, to entity vagina, to voluptuous thighs until I came across my calve, a steel rock of will and sheer determination.

This became the day I questioned every exhausting set of every draining rep of cruel years spent on sculpting, limping and wincing through the Charlie Horses that arrived to visit me in the tragedy of over stimulating nights to walk every line to put every ounce of life in training to win every fight.

So why did I pull away abruptly?  Why did I fall back on my training approach? How could I fear exactly what I’ve desired the most?  Diamonds that would climb the circumference of a quad and cut as appealing and wicked as ice. Polished for the world to know how I strong I am by how much pain and anguish bore within this delightful body of mine.

I’m reminded of how I want to grow into where my mind and my heart and my spirit of power will take me.  I want to cast out all the words, shocked faces and expressions to ill me of what I accomplish and of who I am.  I look to you, a statue of greatness, a shrine of eternal internal faith and a sudden shift in the atmosphere of the subconscious.

-Pennington©

Even The Best Can Break Down!



This is personal.  So skip this if you always expect moi to maintain her strong-ness working at an optimum level of 110%.  

Firstly, I dedicate this Post to @WriteWendy.  Also her Org and Tumblr .  Entirely because she’s honest and raw with her own Life and I’m taking a page out her book and releasing a moment to do the same simply because she greatly inspires me.  Thanks Wendy with all my muscle fibers, heart and soul.

Yesterday I decided to do the impossible and visit my dying mother in the hospital.  Heading over there all I could feel was a bundle of heightened anxiety in the pit of my stomach that felt just like when I threaten juniors to fight in the cafeteria.  I’ve always been about entertainment in one way or another.  But seeing my mother isn’t delighting in the least.  It’s fucking devastating!  So much so that when I look into her face all I want to do is break down and cry.  There are many many reminders.

I haven’t seen her in a year.  It’s partly punishment.  It’s partly about keeping my entire sanity intact.  I heard my mother gasp in surprise as the nurse told her your daughter is here as she was changing in her personal bathroom.  I don’t know why (except that maybe the nurse was taken aback by my mother’s expression), but I felt compelled to tell the nurse I haven’t seen my mother in a long time.  Naturally she asked, “Do you live far?”  No, it’s just we really don’t get along.

For a moment she changed my loathsome perception of nurses with what she had to say:  We only have one mother.  Sometimes when people act harsh and angry, especially when they’re sick.  It’s because they believe nobody loves them.  They want somebody to take care of them and be there for them.  Don’t you notice when you give them love they are much calmer? Whatever she did to you as a kid, leave it there.  Come by and visit often.

When I finally saw my mom, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t recognize her face.  I tried my hardest to cover the grimace but she caught it through my stricken eyes, I know I gained a lot of weight, right?  My reply:  A little.  I analyzed her face and it seems like someone stuffed two vineyard tomatoes under her cheeks how they flourish in furious mush.  I was heartbroken. 😦

Then I roamed my eyes to her hair and many of her strands were gray.  And I’m not sure what it was about youth or age or the past to present or what contradictions within me lied with wanting to run out and buy her a black tint so she can cover them?  I’m not used to seeing my mother succumb to weakness or being anything less than what she is now.  She’s a pretty good trooper with a million disguises putting politicians to shame.  And for her not to hide in plain sight just made me feel awful as I wanted to do it for her.  Jeweled travesties.  Make sense?

Mother and I chatted for what seem like a brief moment where when she decided to lay down on her bed she told me:  I missed you so much.  I haven’t seen you in a long time.  During this little time I had to reflect between what she said and what I felt with her asking me where my brother (her favorite) is and why has she never come out with the courage to tell me just how hard her ill existence is?  She grabbed out for my hand, held it and fell right to sleep.  I stuck around for a little while, wrote a note as to not wake her and thanked the nurse for being so welcoming.

But as soon as I left her room, I managed to get lost in the hospital.  I swear it was a metaphor for how I was feeling at that moment.  Before I stepped foot outside I saw a neon flashing sign: FOOD! I looked over the menu, reaching into my pockets to buy anything to shove my fucked up emotions down.  I didn’t.  I had a semi-long walk to the train station and before I made it.  I walked into 3 different food stores (including a pizza shop) just to browse food while each and everyone of them were offering their services.  Fucking gluttons! 😉

Holding back tears, thinking to myself:  How does all the parties, all the drugs, all the fun my entire family has ever had in life come down to letting go of life and losing absolutely everything in return?  How?  But I know the answers.  I know why I’m cynical.  But in the end it’s not the end.  Yet the somewhat happy ending concluded with sucking up the emotional guts to visit my mother and finally make it home successfully with healthy and whole foods from the market.

*smiles*

-Pennington