You don’t know Jack


Well… how refreshing…

my hope renewed… the challenge accepted.

Shauna La and I attended a lovely Christmas party at Jack Kruse’s house this weekend. The collection of doctors and surgeons made for especially high brow small talk while enjoying the best wine anyone there had ever seen. Jack was in rare form and seemed to be having the time of his life. He and his wife Sandra were gracious hosts with enough oysters and shrimp to feed a small army all the iodine they would need for a month. As the crowd thinned the conversations grew more intimate.  The story of the Kruse’s amazing wine collection is his to tell but it’s one of the coolest stories iv’e been told. I can’t wait to put a firebox in the back yard and design it around the stories and momentum I felt that night. Our talks about what to eat or not to eat faded from science and epigenetics to humility and gratitude. I saw my friend for the first time. I did not speak much as he left me little room but I carved my words into a point so as to get his attention. He is a teacher, he is metrosexual romantic that would rather turn the world on its head than accept medical dogma on blind faith.  Yet i’d never sen the amount of love he has for people. Not just his friends in the room- he wants to help people. Not for the sake of “I told ya so” but it seems to generate from some deep need for atonement. He feels a responsibility, he was clearly the alpha electron in the room that night. The others might have called it ego or pomp, but I can say I saw gratitude and promise. He was right when he told me we had a job to do together. He has the tools and understanding to dig deeper into Cystic Fibrosis than anyone iv’e met. “Your getting smarter” he’d tell me, more patient too. As his family practice friend told me holding his fingers up to indicate an inch… “we have about this much science and the rest is art”. I knew years ago that I wanted to become a great enough sculptor to collaborate with other great artists and build something beautiful. The time has come when I will collaborate with Jack on the most important “body of work” I have to offer. I have two directions I am going to follow to begin with… Rebecca Boyd offered me a free sleep in their hyperbarric chamber and cold therapy is the other path I will diligently explore.  The other path is more personal; I am going to honor my mother more and pray her inspiration for my health is uninterrupted. It was wild to hear someone so logical as Jack admit my Mom and her mystical intuition often trumps modern science. These are my two pathways to combat inflammation; and it seems I am to go back into the arms of my mentor and let her help me as well. My hospital stay really made me doubt my ability to experiment with new ideas. It’s like a man living paycheck to paycheck investing in volatile stocks. I don’t have much room for error, I can’t afford to loose- recovery is too hard. So I will start safe and simple. I’ll clean up my diet some, moderation at lest on carbs and try to increase cardio in time for Venezuela. I have a lot of work to do. Thank you Jack and thanks Mom:)

If YOU don’t know Jack… go to and good luck.

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2 Responses to “You don’t know Jack”

  1. Shauna December 12, 2013 at 5:30 AM #

    The company, conversation, and wine…amazing! It was a wonderful experience to meet such great people. 🙂

    “we have about this much science and the rest is art” I loved the honesty!

  2. Jack Kruse December 18, 2013 at 12:43 AM #

    Compassion is when a person sees a need in and for others and acts on it. The leader puts them self in the other’s shoes and realizes that the other person needs a new and better pair of shoes. Compassion is an action. Compassion involves a relationship. The constituent parts of love — the acts of kindness, compassion, empathy, generosity — should moves our focus on to other people and away from the kind of brooding from our own condition, behaviors, and situations that would otherwise drive us crazy. Remember, “an eye for an eye”, eventually leads the whole world blind.

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