Eat ,  Sleep ,  Conquer ,  Repeat —Brock Lesnar’s Hard Road Back to Suplex City and Gut Health


Even if not a fan ,  you need to give WWE kudos for slogans and catch phrases . Eat ,  Sleep , Conquer ,  Repeat are words to live by no matter what the situation .  And eating and sleeping are just as important as conquering .  Brock Lesnar is a phenomenal athlete who climbed up the ranks from success in amateur wrestling to the champion to UFC  champion .  He was a man to be feared with on screen and just someone to look at as an example off screen . All he had was will and determination to go with the talent . 

Many great athletes persevere through horrendous injuries .  Brock’s didn’t get injured . He got sick . And he was really sick .  This article gives a good account of what happened to Brock. He almost lost his life in the process of battling diverticulitis .  What most people don’t understand is the part our brains play in most diseases of the bowel and intestines .  In fact ,  stress may be the main culprit in contracting these diseases . Brock Lesnar moved to Saskatchewan after his disease was treated .  He said he was born on a farm and wanted his family to move to Canada and live on the farm again .  This must have been the epiphany for good health everlasting he must have had come to him after having part of his intestine removed .  And so most people would lick their wounds and set off into the sunset . And no one would blame them in any way . It would have been the logical thing to do .  But the gifted , whether intellectually, athletically , or otherwise ,  can’t just sit there satisfied without conquering . And if nothing more ,  Brock had to prove to himself that he was the winner . 

Branding is just as important as talent in most careers. In this case ,  the Eat , Sleep , Conquer , Repeat was just so perfect .  Brock Lesnar came back to the WWE and was better than ever .  He was the mayor of Suplex City ,  a variation of the classic wrestling move. He also returned to the torturous enclaves of the UFC .  Indeed , Brock Lesnar has conquered intestinal disease .  

I mention Brock Lesnar because it is important to understand how far will can take you . He is the embodiment of empowerment . We need to take gut health seriously. The biggest problem is that the gut is difficult to diagnose . It is also necessary to have proper technology to detect these problems . Brock was absolutely right condemning the Manitoba hospital in the above article for not having a functioNing CT scan machine and calling Canada’s health care system comparable to that of a third world country .  He took it back later ,  but the lack of proper equipment could have killed him .  And there’s no excuse for that .  

Canada is a rich country with dated medical equipment and subpar health care .  Free health care means nothing if I need to wait 1 year to get an MRI and a few days if I fork out the  $700. This is a travesty and a miscarriage of human rights . Surely , a human life should have no price tag .  If Brock Lesnar ,  a millionaire athlete with almost everything at his disposal almost falls through the cracks and loses part of his intestine in the process ,  what can we say of Joe P. Average who is uninsured and trying to work within a failing system that disguises itself as a great social advantage brought about by Tommy Douglas ?  Tommy must be rolling in his grave . 

I just went to a restaurant and the owner asked how I’d been .  I told him I’d started conquering my gut health .  He said he’d sell the place and move to a fishing village if he could do the same . 

Read this. It could save your gut .  I also suggest seeing a dietitian and also going on an exercise regimen and getting plenty of sleep . 

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A Postmodern  Populist November 

Postmodernism is ,  as I was taught in my second-year lit course ,  something we aspire to become through the non -acceptance of modern ideology. The Britannica dictionary gives a more thorough meaning. I tend to think of a theory that is already there and waiting to be defined when there is enough cynicism with most of what we define as being part of the establishment . 

It has been an eventful November so far .  We only need to look at the weather and its consistent inconsistency to see change is really upon us .  We have come to realize this with the advent of populism . Yes ,  the plight of the working class ,  the so-called huddled masses, has finally come to the fore .  They don’t care about the environment . Recycling won’t help them put food on the table . The climate may be changing ,  but that is secondary to the power of the only democratic thing out there —the ballot .  The people kicked out the establishment when they voted in Donald Trump . 

There has never been so much civil defiance as far as I can remember .  The pollsters were wrong. So were the media . So were ,  most importantly ,  the establishment and the elite . You know ,  that Wall Street bunch with Maseratis and secret offshore hedge funds .  We have overcome because they didn’t get their candidate in .  In fact ,  Trump is the ultimate  anti -candidate ,  which is what makes it such a coup .  He talks like us .  He thinks like we do ,  privately .  He even look like my Uncle George with an ill -fitting ugly cap worn with a suit and ugly tie .  He is the emblem of middle America and the one to empower the poor .  He is the one who overcame all odds and won .  For the everyman. Like the bully we live vicariously through ,  Donald Trump is the one who was able to defeat the Republican establishment and be heard over the corrupt musings of the Clinton clan .  And as for his comments ,  what else could he have said ?  The goal was to win .  You bring in the wounded to your party and rebuild their dignity .  It is the only way to empower the huddled masses .  

Michael Moore predicted the victory.  Here is a video explaining exactly why Trump would win. 

Do we need more proof ?  Yes , first Britain experienced postmodernism with Brexit and now the USA with Trump . This is possibly the way to epiphany and atonement that we’ve longed for since my first anarchist thought . Since my first Bukowski poem . Since my first Lit course . Since I realized democracy was still a theory .  Since I saw how much worse public schools were .  Like Trump says “what have you got to lose? “ And truth be told ,  there’s nothing much to lose .  Is there ?  When you look at it from a broad spectrum ? 

I woke up this morning in the fog of autumn .  The fire escape is for the huddled masses who will continue to live in such places .  But Trump won .  It was what needed to happen . It is the only way out. 

 

Fall Back

It’s a special time of the year . Certainly one of the calmest . It’s a calmer time .  For many , it is a time of creativity or, for the non -inclined ,  reflection .  Maybe it’s that extra hour of sleep you were supposed to get . In essence, I figure there is a direct correlation between taking advantage of that luxury and aging. So I just stayed up later last night . No way I was aging , my friends . 

It was strange as I decided to go to my favourite nearby baseball diamond dugout and quietly contemplate .  It was dark and I was alone . There was some white noise in the background , but nothing overpowering . The lights at center field were still on. I had my Chicago Cubs cap on and it was hell for my eczema .  But it stayed on . Backwards was more endurable . And I thought of the days when baseball was a big part of my life . I remember Bruce Sutter and Jeff Reardon coming out of the bullpen for more late -inning saves .  I remember the greatest Expo ever , Gary Carter ,  coming through in the clutch and Andre Dawson choking yet again . Usually on a swing and miss . 

So hockey and baseball meet and replace each other twice a year . This was one of those times . 

The contemplation ended with an epiphany that the forgotten dreams that had kept me up the last 3 nights were omens into the future . So I accepted the fear and was on my way . The launch of my website and eventually working for myself were nothing to be afraid of . 


This morning I decided to take a standard time drive and later walk . This pic from the car was the best sign of life I’ve seen today . 

I was drawn to these on my walk . They’re still holding on , even if for a few more days . 

A good acquaintance told me before I started this blog to put lots of pics . He spoke of attention spans dying out in epidemic proportions .  

Anthony Robbins gives simple advice on how to prepare for any endeavor you wish will last . This was advice I took a while back .  As well ,  this is true for any creative type, from the lens of Amy Poehler and Ernest Hemingway. But there is a void that needs to still be filled . The empowerment .  And this is a term not to be taken lightly . It’s a big word . People wrongly equate with female empowerment in that women should have the opportunity to excel just like men do . But the opportunity is not there just because you’re a man .  Opportunity doesn’t just happen . It is cultivated . More on that later . This is a general synopsis to personal empowerment. 

 The falling leaves represent the new beginning to independence . 

The Claws of Paradise 

Poetry jams have been an interest of mine since I was still in high school .  I was encouraged , always , by Charles Bukowski and his raw style . The anti-hero he had not invented , but rather was merely giving a recital about .  In Claws of Paradise, a lesser -known work of his ,  he candidly and perhaps , to some ,  crassly and self -indulgently ,  gives us a somber and befitting synopsis of his regrets ,  perhaps more than a few ,  and too many to mention . Grammar check says the previous sentence was not run -on .  In this New Yorker article, Bukowski is a misunderstood populist and modern day cult icon . He writes to live . To survive . My favourite poetry book of all time is Love Is a Dog from Hell.

I drew my inspiration to write poetry after reading Chuck .  I started entering poetry jams . These were very big at a time when rap was being getting respect and there was no real threat from the Internet to kill our creativity . There was no TED talks or other too nicely -structured pedestal to please . So I came up with my first poem. I didn’t realize how short it was till later .  But for those who know me well ,  it was quasi -cathartic . The quasi being from my 17 years on earth .  


THE CLAWS  OF PARADISE 

I leave yet always come back 

To the hills and the seaside 

Where sins beyond the ordinary were committed 

Where I let my future go 

As well as my past remain 

I see claws of storks 

And crows 

Interchangeable 

Redundant I’ve become 

Helping the man 

Helpless ,  but helping the man 


When they put my head in the furnace 

I stay still 

Unafraid 

Knowing there’s future days 

Even if they won’t be as I wanted 

Better than the punches in the face 

The bloody lip 

From an otherwise lost young man 

Fixated on curbing someone’s growth 

He is now forever silenced 

And I don’t cry 

I won’t cry 

I may celebrate instead 


The seaside is hungry now 

Quiet 

Needing a plaything 

I indulge it 

Though it seems unflinching 

Perhaps unfulfilled by little old me 

Wanting to relive the sins it bore witness to 
Don’t show regret 

Evelyn agreed 

For it means you lived wrongly 
Sageness 

After years of shame 

Now she’s meek and polished 

And unamusing 

With the knowledge that comes before the onset of disease 

I feel ordained 

Mirthful 

For I’d never regretted 

As the sea goes wild 

When Evelyn turns her back to it and me