This is my first entry in Poetry Thursday. This week the prompt is whatever pleases me.
I wrote this poem in the big yellow writing group not even a year ago, and it may have been the first time I read my poetry aloud. It's also my favorite for reasons that come from the heart.
If I were dying tonight,
Lying in my bed with plastic tubes and half-filled bottles
On the small table nearby
and bedpans and oxygen there to diminish any shame,
Perhaps forcing my breaths
with the strength of a desperate parent
who implausibly and frantically lifts two tons
of mangled steel off a broken daughter—
If I were dying tonight and I wished to tell you
What will astonish you,
I would tell you this:
Be sure to notice white flowers in the moonlight,
Because the softened glow is like no other.
Appreciate the lingering scent of garlic on your fingers,
Because healing is possible from that alone.
Tell the truth when it matters least
Because then you will be sure there is another honest person in the world.
Always spend the extra money for dimmers
Because light that builds in intensity and then gently fades is
good for your spirit.
Over and over, ask yourself, “What is the lesson here?”
Because then you will forever be a student and never a victim
Never believe for a moment that the world is going to hell
Because you only need to love outside yourself to know better.
If I were dying tonight, I would tell you all this
Because astonishment is brethren to curiosity,
Which leads to observation,
And dedication,
And finally appreciation.
If I were dying tonight, perhaps there would only be minutes,
Perhaps only seconds,
To tell you that I will leave with all the love
I have ever felt, and ever given.
I will take it all with me, tucked under my angel wing—
The accumulation of grace from every breath I have ever taken.
Here’s what’s astonishing: I will also leave all that love behind,
It will be imbedded in my daughter’s stunning light and my partner’s quiet
courage,
It will guide my friends and coworkers when the layoff comes.
My brother will remember how I tried to do my share
And Joey will find someone else like me to help him tame his fears.
Even the woman at the grocery store that day I let her go ahead of me—will remember how we were both comforted from that simple act.
If I were dying tonight, I would also tell you
That within, under, because of, and from the little moments
Comes all the wonder and astonishment you could ever hope for.
The little moments that aren’t so little.
I would tell you to let those moments astonish you.
I would tell you this because it is all you need to know.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Thursday 13
1. I drive 4 hours one day a week to visit my mother and help her with groceries, bills, etc.
2. One of my favorite gallavants was driving from San Francisco to Truckee CA. The little town of Truckee is still one of my best memories because it looked like a true western town and had a great clothing store and interesting shops.
3. My dog Stella gets acupuncture once a month to help her damaged spine. I'm here to say it has helped her enormously: she moves and runs much easier afterwards.
4. I was a counselor for two years at an Army Education Center in Germany. It was a fabulous job at an artillery and tank base. The ed center was a easy place on base. Hundreds of men, just a handful of women.
5. When I see something that seems unjust or dishonest, I want to fix it (and sometimes too often I try despite the odds).
6. I could hire my own orthopedic surgeon these days: I have low back pain, a cranky old miniscus injury in my knee, and a rotator cuff tear in my shoulder. All will improve with time and exercise, but geez...
7. When Fall arrives, some people around here will sell pumpkins at the end of their driveways for a dollar or two.
8. I've had the same occasional dream for years: I'm alone in a foreign country and I can't figure out how to use the payphone. (scary...)
9. I love playing the slot machines at casinos. Because each spin is exhilerating to me, I figure it's an addiction I manage to keep in check. I usually lose more than I win.
10. I heard yesterday of a credible report that the US administration arranged for Israel to extend bombing Lebanon so Hezballah's missle system would be weakened and the US could then use force on Iran. I'm disgusted to say I believe it. The older I get, the less I understand.
11. Ever since I volunteered in New Orleans last October, I understand the magnitude of returning home to find everything destroyed. I'll never forget seeing families spend entire days in knee high rubber boots, digging through muck and mud to salvage only a tuperware bowl or a glass vase--all that remained of their life in St. Bernard parish. Many lined up these precious objects at the end of their driveways and tried not to cry.
11. Origins puts out a little bottle called "peace of mind" that I dab on the back of my neck and it refreshes and relaxes me almost immediately.
12. My work requires that I be on equal footing with doctors, employers, counselors, and attornies. Attornies are my least favorite.
13. At the end of the week we are headed to Provincetown for a long week or so. I have walked barefoot along the Commercial Street Bay Beach for fifteen years or so and just about every good idea and dream I've had has come from those walks.
2. One of my favorite gallavants was driving from San Francisco to Truckee CA. The little town of Truckee is still one of my best memories because it looked like a true western town and had a great clothing store and interesting shops.
3. My dog Stella gets acupuncture once a month to help her damaged spine. I'm here to say it has helped her enormously: she moves and runs much easier afterwards.
4. I was a counselor for two years at an Army Education Center in Germany. It was a fabulous job at an artillery and tank base. The ed center was a easy place on base. Hundreds of men, just a handful of women.
5. When I see something that seems unjust or dishonest, I want to fix it (and sometimes too often I try despite the odds).
6. I could hire my own orthopedic surgeon these days: I have low back pain, a cranky old miniscus injury in my knee, and a rotator cuff tear in my shoulder. All will improve with time and exercise, but geez...
7. When Fall arrives, some people around here will sell pumpkins at the end of their driveways for a dollar or two.
8. I've had the same occasional dream for years: I'm alone in a foreign country and I can't figure out how to use the payphone. (scary...)
9. I love playing the slot machines at casinos. Because each spin is exhilerating to me, I figure it's an addiction I manage to keep in check. I usually lose more than I win.
10. I heard yesterday of a credible report that the US administration arranged for Israel to extend bombing Lebanon so Hezballah's missle system would be weakened and the US could then use force on Iran. I'm disgusted to say I believe it. The older I get, the less I understand.
11. Ever since I volunteered in New Orleans last October, I understand the magnitude of returning home to find everything destroyed. I'll never forget seeing families spend entire days in knee high rubber boots, digging through muck and mud to salvage only a tuperware bowl or a glass vase--all that remained of their life in St. Bernard parish. Many lined up these precious objects at the end of their driveways and tried not to cry.
11. Origins puts out a little bottle called "peace of mind" that I dab on the back of my neck and it refreshes and relaxes me almost immediately.
12. My work requires that I be on equal footing with doctors, employers, counselors, and attornies. Attornies are my least favorite.
13. At the end of the week we are headed to Provincetown for a long week or so. I have walked barefoot along the Commercial Street Bay Beach for fifteen years or so and just about every good idea and dream I've had has come from those walks.
Monday, August 14, 2006
nothing but sweet
This is our little dining room, currently graced with a vase of pink zinnias and black-eyed susans grown and cut from our yard. We moved here a year ago and the house has become a vibrant sanctuary and easy resting place. jb's studio (the magic cottage..) is in the back yard and my writing room is in the back hall (the rear wing). The soil is rich and the sun is full. The gardener in me is in a state of perpectual glee and awe.
There's more I want to say, because I believe that sanctuaries like this house quiet the mind and calm the nerves. The house was built in 1950 and is solid. Frances and Bullah lived here for fifty years, raised Bullah's daughters here. Last year when we first arrived, I was careful not to disturb Frances' oregano in the back yard or to make changes to the space that left too little of them. That changed when I heard that following Bullah, Frances had died.
Now almost all the walls are repainted and you can see jb and i in the rooms. We wanted a space where visitors could be comfortable and self sufficient. We want our friends and family here: staying over and eating breakfast on the patio with us. Swinging on the hammock. Sharing stories. We like that.
The house has responded: this is a comfortable comforting place.
So about sanctuaries: even a corner will do. In the happiness workshops I've taught, I advise creating a sanctuary as a way to keep it simple--a place to go and to be to recharge, refill, replenish, release, refresh. Even in the smallest places, a candle can be set and a photo can be hung. That's all it takes to make a sacred space.
We've settled in here. I've spent alot of my life feeling unsettled and unsure about where I belong. The choices and possibilities have confused me. The truth is that I moved here quite reluctantly, and only because jb couldn't continue the painfully long commute to her work.
Neither of us expected this house to be right for us. It is a one floor ranch, and we're not ranch-types. We moved from our beach place in Provincetown, and lived in a Victorian before that.
But today it is right. We have a fire place in the livingroom and off that a porch with windows on 3 sides. We have a half-circle garden with herbs and tomatoes and giant basil. We have a hot tub in the back yard, under the stars with a hollywood-blue light that illuminates the water. We have a dog who appreciates the simple kindness she had not had in her life. We can drive 2 miles and be among working farms. And two miles the other way and fall into the funk and buzz of a college town with great restaurants and endless music and culture. And: We have eachother.
Not everything is ideal: I'm too far from some people I dearly love. And I'm land-locked.
I'm writing this from a place of deep gratitude, but I don't want to mislead or underplay the vague discontent I also feel at times, because that is part of my life too. I'm apt to lean into that discontent more these days rather than ignore or disquise it, and I think that is a good thing for me. I want to be real, even when I don't know much more than that.
I think it's important to connect with and honor the spaces in our lives. Maybe that's why this house, complete with our little dining room (and it is little!) feels so good. We have mutual respect --this house and us.
With this addition complete, I now end today with yesterday's ending: Life has its ups and downs and all arounds. But today I'm just glad to be upright and present in a sweet place.
For a Weary World
Here's to a hopeful worldWhere kindness trumps convenience.
Simplicity beats out complexity.
Honor outshines winning.
And hotdamn, compromise is back in style.
Believing is the first sign--
When little actions
And softer landings
Offer a collective sigh of relief.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Sunday Scribblings #20 - "Who Else Can I Still Be?"
This is my first post for Sunday Scribblings. I appreciate another reason to write regularly. This, however, was written a while back. But it seems to fit the prompt this week. My apologies to my big yellow friends who have no doubt seen this before.
The Order of Things
When I was five I’d walk to school
With little question about the rules.
I knew teachers would like me fine
If I were cheerful and mostly kind.
When I was nine I began to see
My face and grace were mostly me,
But about then I sought to be
Someone else—a mystery.
I tucked my dress in my snow pants
And imagined myself as Sherlock Trance
In the field to solve the case
Of the missing pencil case.
When I was twelve something changed
My hair and body rearranged--
Colorless and very drab--
Though I was funny, I discovered sad.
I learned appearances ruled the roost
And pushed forward the awful truth
That I would not be viewed the way
That whiney Natasha became one day.
She’d throw her shoulders back and grin
Knowing that she’d made in
To the elist group of gawky boys
Who loved her cool and polished coy.
When I was fifteen I found a way
To advance myself to where I’d stay—
Popular, cool, myself unique
Still, my inner self dared not peep.
I mastered the tricky art of fame
Built a business, made a name
It was easy to believe
The order of things was to achieve
When I was thirty I met the challenge
Of loving a child and seeking some balance
But even then I tried my best
To push myself without a rest
What mattered most was quite apart
From who I was in my sweet heart.
I began to feel a hole within
Deep and hollow, like empty tin.
I knew enough not to settle
For surface joy made of metal.
So I dropped the charm and tried instead
To be myself, both heart and head
I began to listen more than I spoke
And success became my private joke
About the privilege of a good life
That included truths of loss or strife.
Today I am who I will be
In just this moment, gratefully.
I love and lust and lunge and laugh
I understand when I get half
Instead of whole it hardly matters
Because beneath the wind and chatters
My world is simply full and real
And I’ve become the real real deal.
The Order of Things
When I was five I’d walk to school
With little question about the rules.
I knew teachers would like me fine
If I were cheerful and mostly kind.
When I was nine I began to see
My face and grace were mostly me,
But about then I sought to be
Someone else—a mystery.
I tucked my dress in my snow pants
And imagined myself as Sherlock Trance
In the field to solve the case
Of the missing pencil case.
When I was twelve something changed
My hair and body rearranged--
Colorless and very drab--
Though I was funny, I discovered sad.
I learned appearances ruled the roost
And pushed forward the awful truth
That I would not be viewed the way
That whiney Natasha became one day.
She’d throw her shoulders back and grin
Knowing that she’d made in
To the elist group of gawky boys
Who loved her cool and polished coy.
When I was fifteen I found a way
To advance myself to where I’d stay—
Popular, cool, myself unique
Still, my inner self dared not peep.
I mastered the tricky art of fame
Built a business, made a name
It was easy to believe
The order of things was to achieve
When I was thirty I met the challenge
Of loving a child and seeking some balance
But even then I tried my best
To push myself without a rest
What mattered most was quite apart
From who I was in my sweet heart.
I began to feel a hole within
Deep and hollow, like empty tin.
I knew enough not to settle
For surface joy made of metal.
So I dropped the charm and tried instead
To be myself, both heart and head
I began to listen more than I spoke
And success became my private joke
About the privilege of a good life
That included truths of loss or strife.
Today I am who I will be
In just this moment, gratefully.
I love and lust and lunge and laugh
I understand when I get half
Instead of whole it hardly matters
Because beneath the wind and chatters
My world is simply full and real
And I’ve become the real real deal.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Thursday 13
1. I'm currently in love with pink zinnias.
2. Peet's coffee is the best--I buy 2 pounds whenever I'm in Boston/Brookline
3. I love to develop and present self-help workshops but I'm a wreck beforehand
4. I am braver emotionally than physically
5. I have been self employed most of my adult life
6. My writing room has a bookcase with glass doors,a roomy wrap around desk, floor length drapes from the 50's, calm salmon-colored walls,and a front seat window view of a very tall pine tree
7. The move to Western Mass. has been awesome. Among many wonderful pieces, I have near-by friends who can drop by for a quick cup of coffee.
8. I'm a better friend in crisis than I am day-to-day
9. I (very briefly--that's another story)owned a restaurant called Tomato City. We specialized in "piecemeals"--all kinds of appetizers--our American cafe version of tapas
10. A friend of mine has been a hospice volunteer for dozens of people. He says nobody passes over alone: at the end almost everyone describes being accompanied by someone they know or trust--could be a childhood teddybear, a deceased grandparent, or an arc angel.
11. And in a related topic, as far as I know, dentists and psychiatrists have the highest suicide rates
12. Sometimes I take a moment to sway in the backyard hammock and then I understand better.
13. I'm an ocean girl but this summer I've discovered the utility and beauty of lakes.
2. Peet's coffee is the best--I buy 2 pounds whenever I'm in Boston/Brookline
3. I love to develop and present self-help workshops but I'm a wreck beforehand
4. I am braver emotionally than physically
5. I have been self employed most of my adult life
6. My writing room has a bookcase with glass doors,a roomy wrap around desk, floor length drapes from the 50's, calm salmon-colored walls,and a front seat window view of a very tall pine tree
7. The move to Western Mass. has been awesome. Among many wonderful pieces, I have near-by friends who can drop by for a quick cup of coffee.
8. I'm a better friend in crisis than I am day-to-day
9. I (very briefly--that's another story)owned a restaurant called Tomato City. We specialized in "piecemeals"--all kinds of appetizers--our American cafe version of tapas
10. A friend of mine has been a hospice volunteer for dozens of people. He says nobody passes over alone: at the end almost everyone describes being accompanied by someone they know or trust--could be a childhood teddybear, a deceased grandparent, or an arc angel.
11. And in a related topic, as far as I know, dentists and psychiatrists have the highest suicide rates
12. Sometimes I take a moment to sway in the backyard hammock and then I understand better.
13. I'm an ocean girl but this summer I've discovered the utility and beauty of lakes.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Mom-ment-ous
Today is my birthday. And today is the first time in 21 years that my mother has spent the night at my house. There's a long, sad, difficult,happy-ending story that explains why this is so, but today is not the day for that. Today my 90 year old mother and I are driving on these fragrant farm roads, picking up corn-on-the cob for dinner, and checking out the butterfly sanctuary that spooked me a few weeks ago.
Today I am shouting a collective "thank you" to my family, friends, community and the universe. And I am sharing my favorite poem of all time: Wild Geese by Provincetown's Mary Oliver. I hope it might find you at just the right moment and provide something sacred in the very moment you need it.
Thank you, thank you.
Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you
mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the
rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue
air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and
exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Today I am shouting a collective "thank you" to my family, friends, community and the universe. And I am sharing my favorite poem of all time: Wild Geese by Provincetown's Mary Oliver. I hope it might find you at just the right moment and provide something sacred in the very moment you need it.
Thank you, thank you.
Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you
mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the
rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue
air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and
exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Thursday Thirteen
1. I drive a Toyota RAV which I can't manage to keep neat or clean.
2. A few years ago I had the privilege of designing and developing the Provincetown Artisian Cooperative. 15 local craft artisians, and other consignor artists, joined together to create and maintain a successful storefront in Whaler's Wharf in Provincetown.
3. I've learned to love fruit, and I'm working on liking salads and salmon, but it's not a slam-dunk for me.
4. I kayaked last week for the first time and loved it: the same as a really fun amusement park ride.
5. I will never again cook a live lobster: too painful
6. I am a political junkie for unknown reasons
7. I am still thinking about the Dixie Chicks and love their new cd
8. At my father's wake, his neighborhood friend Nick, drunk and sad, stood at his coffin and yelled at him for dying. (No comment from my dad)
9. When my inexperienced mother flew to Florida with us a few years ago, as the plane was flying above the clouds, she exclaimed in honest wonder: "I never knew there were two skies". Almost everyone around us smiled.
10. My son-in-law Mike is a really good guy and I love how he and Jess care for eachother.
11. I've written what I think is a good book on Happiness but I won't go forward with it until I am more confident.
12. I unabashedly love dogs. They just warm my heart every time.
13. I'm learning it is possible to develop real friendships through blogging. I wouldn't have believed that before.
2. A few years ago I had the privilege of designing and developing the Provincetown Artisian Cooperative. 15 local craft artisians, and other consignor artists, joined together to create and maintain a successful storefront in Whaler's Wharf in Provincetown.
3. I've learned to love fruit, and I'm working on liking salads and salmon, but it's not a slam-dunk for me.
4. I kayaked last week for the first time and loved it: the same as a really fun amusement park ride.
5. I will never again cook a live lobster: too painful
6. I am a political junkie for unknown reasons
7. I am still thinking about the Dixie Chicks and love their new cd
8. At my father's wake, his neighborhood friend Nick, drunk and sad, stood at his coffin and yelled at him for dying. (No comment from my dad)
9. When my inexperienced mother flew to Florida with us a few years ago, as the plane was flying above the clouds, she exclaimed in honest wonder: "I never knew there were two skies". Almost everyone around us smiled.
10. My son-in-law Mike is a really good guy and I love how he and Jess care for eachother.
11. I've written what I think is a good book on Happiness but I won't go forward with it until I am more confident.
12. I unabashedly love dogs. They just warm my heart every time.
13. I'm learning it is possible to develop real friendships through blogging. I wouldn't have believed that before.
Vacation Tools and The Mystery of Now
First, an acknowledgement: I understand the story to follow is too long to include,and too long to read. But I can't help posting it anyway. It is the product of my recent vacation. I'm thinking about submitting it to a magazine of some kind in my active quest to "become" a writer. Of course the counselor in me can't help but add her two cents as well.....
Vacation Tools
One two inch white candle
2 black pilot pens
An unopened travel sized set of Winsor and Newton water colours
Two different sized water color sketch books
A little packet of incense
Fancy matches
A new bathing suit
15 year old spa quality flip-flops
2 books on writing: William Kinsser’s ”On Writing Well”; Julia Cameron’s “The Right to Write”
2 books by Margaret Wheatley: Turning to One Another and A Simpler Way
1 best seller: My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult
1 pound of Italian Roast Coffee
A digital camera
An unopened calligraphy set
My in-process book proposal and a sample of someone else’s
These are the tools of my vacation.
I’m currently staring across the street at a dozen or so mamouth pine trees, their stature reduced only slightly by the orange background and icy glimmer of dusk awash on Sebago Lake. JB and I are here through the kind offer of friends: one week in their just refurbished condo-house in Windham, Maine. There are two quaint lakeside houses between us and the water, but they fit nicely into the larger picture of a gorgeous lake just across the street, surrounded by gorgeous pines.
We arrived last night ready to unwind. I am hobbling with a fragile back these days but despite that I managed to pack my vacation toolbox with how I want to spend my time.
Years ago, a colleague introduced me to the idea of tools and toolboxes. He happily described his work tools as a car, calculator, map, and cigarettes, He was a self employed counselor who saw people in their homes.
That’s when I first started thinking about my own tools. At the time, mine were an umbrella (I like having a plan B), appointment book with phone numbers, also a calculator, car, and maps. (I too was a counselor who saw people in their homes). I also threw in my three “C’s”—caring, creativity and competence--because I’ve always believed that combination is what makes me and anybody else extra good at their work.
I’ve since eliminated maps and umbrellas and added a notepad and pen, books on writing, a cell phone, and fruit when I travel, My appointment book and calculator are still high on my list.
I like the idea of specialized toolboxes. A few years ago I trained Insurance Specialists and included a presentation where I handed out pictures of a toolbox and together we filled it with the skills and tools they needed for their jobs. It was an easy concept and well received. I think that’s because there’s not a situation or circumstance in life where tools of some kind or another are either necessary or helpful to have around.
It took me less than an hour to pack my vacation toolbox. This is one time that I decide who I want to be and pack accordingly. I’ve been fairly consistent over the years: always the candle, watercolors I only use once or twice a year, a generous supply of books I may or may not read. Sometimes I’ve packed interesting ideas or projects that have languished in the regular course of life, but that is not necessary this summer.
JB has packed her own tools: books on collage, art paper and materials, a scrapbook, a small vinyl 60-‘s flowered note book with little compartments for filing papers, her new nano ipod. And today we’ve added our version of “food tools”: 4 chocolate macaroons and 2 two pound lobsters.
My vacation toolbox is overstocked with more than I need or could ever get to in the 7 days we are here. But there’s a comfort in knowing how I am caring for myself. I like that I have packed choices that encourage my mind to let go and move out of the way so I can spontaneously dabble and play.
Planning in advance like this is not something I normally do. Usually I follow the demands and opportunities of daily life, doing my best to carve in personal time, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. But when I’m vacationing, I am able to pause, step back, and see all the stress I’ve been lugging around--and that weight doesn’t disappear just because the chores of life are temporarily suspended. It takes me a good week to untie that knot: when I’ve been lucky enough to have two weeks of uninterrupted vacation, the second week is often sheer joy.
Vacations allow me to change the rhythm of time, more to my own liking and to my own pace. But that doesn’t happen all at once.
It’s the end of our first day and I’d say JB and I are doing pretty well: we’ve swum 2 times in the little lake a footpath away. We’ve bought our favorite foods for the week, we shared a double lobster roll at a cozy little café,we gallivanted by car a little along Route 302, and we took our sweet shelter dog Stella for three walks--all three of us still thrilled that yesterday, despite her advancing age, injured spine, and/or lack of experience, she mastered stairs for the first time.
Tonight we had our two pound lobsters for dinner. Now I am writing, JB is reading, Stella is sleeping. Cheryl Wheeler is singing a song about New England in the background. We know that we will wake up tomorrow morning whenever we want, forego our underwear (all week!) for bathing suits, eat cinnamon bread and lowfat yogurt with fresh fruit and granola for breakfast out on the deck, poke around this three-street little lakeside community where Stella can prance off her leash, and most likely have our first swim by 10 am. If this sounds stress-free, of course it is. But it also isn’t, not yet.
It takes my mind a little time to let go. As that happens, thankfully, I will become more anchored in the present moment, less connected to the past, and less worried about the future. Virginia Woolf called these “streams of consciousness” moments. For me they’re rare glimpses into the life I would have—could have—do have--if—when I live full and real. Of course I’d rather be swimming on steamy hot days than shopping for groceries or putting in time at work, but whatever I’m doing, when I accept and stay with whatever is in front of me, I move more and think less. That sounds so new-age, but living this way is actually an increasing quandrum in modern life. I know I’m absolutely, positively not alone in acknowledging that it is remarkably, surprisingly, shockingly difficult to live in the moment. That could perhaps be a minor problem instead of a major one if it weren’t true that I only exist in this moment. I can only be-here-now. I can only do what I do and not do what I don’t do. Vacation helps me understand this. It turns the volume down and that helps my five senses more easily experience the world. “Time off” helps immensely, but I think the rhythm comes back mostly because I decide how I want it to be. I outlined the bones of that decision when I packed my vacation toolbox.
There is no TV here. No internet service. No washer/dryer. If history proves true, I know already that by the end of the week I will have added another tool in my toolbox: a new timepiece that moves as slowly and consciously as I want it to. It will be in rhythm with my body, and it will quiet my mind. It will help me move through space with greater ease.
I also know that once I return home to western Massachusetts and the land of vacuum cleaners and unpaid bills, my new timepiece will run down and acquiesce to action and activity.
And then comes the really hard part--I know this because I’ve been there before: I will be overwhelmed by the chores and demands that have waited for me. My stress will expand and my capacity to handle it will constrict. But I will also find myself at a junction where I can make a clean choice. I can’t change my circumstance and chores, but thanks to a relaxing vacation, I’ve had the chance to get reacquainted with my favorite self--with my natural self. I definitely overstocked my vacation toolbox, as usual, but it worked great. I pulled out the paints, read some books, wrote as I wished. And I swam in the cool water and hot air first and last thing everyday. I’m arriving home in balance. But I know this too: very soon my day-to-day circumstance and chores will overtake me, especially if I don’t take some thoughtful measure against them.
If I were to add some protective “life-tools” to my toolbox, what they would look like? What I would use them for? What maintenance would they require?
I wonder what it will take to restock my toolbox next week, and the week after that, and after that, with tools that will chisel away stress, sculpt support, provide anchors. Tools that will help me be and stay myself and keep me centered in some core way when the world around me goes to hell and back. I’m wonder what a specially made “kj tool” would look and feel like. Maybe it would cut away unnecessary weeds, prune back overwhelming expectations, drill though bullshit, ring an alarm when I’m at risk of going overboard. Maybe I could order the smaller size—the one with a compass attached, so it could fit in my pocket and I could take it everywhere.
If my kj tool had multiple parts, I could take my time and read the instruction book. If it were very costly, I could put it on layaway. If it were fragile, I could treat it with great care and protection. If it were very heavy or needed batteries, I could conserve it for special occasions. Maybe I could come to count on it to find my way and stay there.
A lot of life tools are already in place for me these days. And yet, my footing slip-slides too easily. I can’t imagine what it would be like to feel solid, centered, secure, for longer than vacations and stream of consciousness moments. I can’t swim 2 or 3 times a day in my non-vacation life, but I can see the sunset, smell the garden basil, touch the soil, hear my daughter’s voice, feel the warmth of friendship.
I want at least some of my vacation tools to become life tools. I want to know that my toolbox will cover most occasions. Then I can more confidently live my interesting life. My week at Sebago Lake guides me to who I am when I live like this. I want to be this Me. Here. Now.
Vacation Tools
One two inch white candle
2 black pilot pens
An unopened travel sized set of Winsor and Newton water colours
Two different sized water color sketch books
A little packet of incense
Fancy matches
A new bathing suit
15 year old spa quality flip-flops
2 books on writing: William Kinsser’s ”On Writing Well”; Julia Cameron’s “The Right to Write”
2 books by Margaret Wheatley: Turning to One Another and A Simpler Way
1 best seller: My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult
1 pound of Italian Roast Coffee
A digital camera
An unopened calligraphy set
My in-process book proposal and a sample of someone else’s
These are the tools of my vacation.
I’m currently staring across the street at a dozen or so mamouth pine trees, their stature reduced only slightly by the orange background and icy glimmer of dusk awash on Sebago Lake. JB and I are here through the kind offer of friends: one week in their just refurbished condo-house in Windham, Maine. There are two quaint lakeside houses between us and the water, but they fit nicely into the larger picture of a gorgeous lake just across the street, surrounded by gorgeous pines.
We arrived last night ready to unwind. I am hobbling with a fragile back these days but despite that I managed to pack my vacation toolbox with how I want to spend my time.
Years ago, a colleague introduced me to the idea of tools and toolboxes. He happily described his work tools as a car, calculator, map, and cigarettes, He was a self employed counselor who saw people in their homes.
That’s when I first started thinking about my own tools. At the time, mine were an umbrella (I like having a plan B), appointment book with phone numbers, also a calculator, car, and maps. (I too was a counselor who saw people in their homes). I also threw in my three “C’s”—caring, creativity and competence--because I’ve always believed that combination is what makes me and anybody else extra good at their work.
I’ve since eliminated maps and umbrellas and added a notepad and pen, books on writing, a cell phone, and fruit when I travel, My appointment book and calculator are still high on my list.
I like the idea of specialized toolboxes. A few years ago I trained Insurance Specialists and included a presentation where I handed out pictures of a toolbox and together we filled it with the skills and tools they needed for their jobs. It was an easy concept and well received. I think that’s because there’s not a situation or circumstance in life where tools of some kind or another are either necessary or helpful to have around.
It took me less than an hour to pack my vacation toolbox. This is one time that I decide who I want to be and pack accordingly. I’ve been fairly consistent over the years: always the candle, watercolors I only use once or twice a year, a generous supply of books I may or may not read. Sometimes I’ve packed interesting ideas or projects that have languished in the regular course of life, but that is not necessary this summer.
JB has packed her own tools: books on collage, art paper and materials, a scrapbook, a small vinyl 60-‘s flowered note book with little compartments for filing papers, her new nano ipod. And today we’ve added our version of “food tools”: 4 chocolate macaroons and 2 two pound lobsters.
My vacation toolbox is overstocked with more than I need or could ever get to in the 7 days we are here. But there’s a comfort in knowing how I am caring for myself. I like that I have packed choices that encourage my mind to let go and move out of the way so I can spontaneously dabble and play.
Planning in advance like this is not something I normally do. Usually I follow the demands and opportunities of daily life, doing my best to carve in personal time, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. But when I’m vacationing, I am able to pause, step back, and see all the stress I’ve been lugging around--and that weight doesn’t disappear just because the chores of life are temporarily suspended. It takes me a good week to untie that knot: when I’ve been lucky enough to have two weeks of uninterrupted vacation, the second week is often sheer joy.
Vacations allow me to change the rhythm of time, more to my own liking and to my own pace. But that doesn’t happen all at once.
It’s the end of our first day and I’d say JB and I are doing pretty well: we’ve swum 2 times in the little lake a footpath away. We’ve bought our favorite foods for the week, we shared a double lobster roll at a cozy little café,we gallivanted by car a little along Route 302, and we took our sweet shelter dog Stella for three walks--all three of us still thrilled that yesterday, despite her advancing age, injured spine, and/or lack of experience, she mastered stairs for the first time.
Tonight we had our two pound lobsters for dinner. Now I am writing, JB is reading, Stella is sleeping. Cheryl Wheeler is singing a song about New England in the background. We know that we will wake up tomorrow morning whenever we want, forego our underwear (all week!) for bathing suits, eat cinnamon bread and lowfat yogurt with fresh fruit and granola for breakfast out on the deck, poke around this three-street little lakeside community where Stella can prance off her leash, and most likely have our first swim by 10 am. If this sounds stress-free, of course it is. But it also isn’t, not yet.
It takes my mind a little time to let go. As that happens, thankfully, I will become more anchored in the present moment, less connected to the past, and less worried about the future. Virginia Woolf called these “streams of consciousness” moments. For me they’re rare glimpses into the life I would have—could have—do have--if—when I live full and real. Of course I’d rather be swimming on steamy hot days than shopping for groceries or putting in time at work, but whatever I’m doing, when I accept and stay with whatever is in front of me, I move more and think less. That sounds so new-age, but living this way is actually an increasing quandrum in modern life. I know I’m absolutely, positively not alone in acknowledging that it is remarkably, surprisingly, shockingly difficult to live in the moment. That could perhaps be a minor problem instead of a major one if it weren’t true that I only exist in this moment. I can only be-here-now. I can only do what I do and not do what I don’t do. Vacation helps me understand this. It turns the volume down and that helps my five senses more easily experience the world. “Time off” helps immensely, but I think the rhythm comes back mostly because I decide how I want it to be. I outlined the bones of that decision when I packed my vacation toolbox.
There is no TV here. No internet service. No washer/dryer. If history proves true, I know already that by the end of the week I will have added another tool in my toolbox: a new timepiece that moves as slowly and consciously as I want it to. It will be in rhythm with my body, and it will quiet my mind. It will help me move through space with greater ease.
I also know that once I return home to western Massachusetts and the land of vacuum cleaners and unpaid bills, my new timepiece will run down and acquiesce to action and activity.
And then comes the really hard part--I know this because I’ve been there before: I will be overwhelmed by the chores and demands that have waited for me. My stress will expand and my capacity to handle it will constrict. But I will also find myself at a junction where I can make a clean choice. I can’t change my circumstance and chores, but thanks to a relaxing vacation, I’ve had the chance to get reacquainted with my favorite self--with my natural self. I definitely overstocked my vacation toolbox, as usual, but it worked great. I pulled out the paints, read some books, wrote as I wished. And I swam in the cool water and hot air first and last thing everyday. I’m arriving home in balance. But I know this too: very soon my day-to-day circumstance and chores will overtake me, especially if I don’t take some thoughtful measure against them.
If I were to add some protective “life-tools” to my toolbox, what they would look like? What I would use them for? What maintenance would they require?
I wonder what it will take to restock my toolbox next week, and the week after that, and after that, with tools that will chisel away stress, sculpt support, provide anchors. Tools that will help me be and stay myself and keep me centered in some core way when the world around me goes to hell and back. I’m wonder what a specially made “kj tool” would look and feel like. Maybe it would cut away unnecessary weeds, prune back overwhelming expectations, drill though bullshit, ring an alarm when I’m at risk of going overboard. Maybe I could order the smaller size—the one with a compass attached, so it could fit in my pocket and I could take it everywhere.
If my kj tool had multiple parts, I could take my time and read the instruction book. If it were very costly, I could put it on layaway. If it were fragile, I could treat it with great care and protection. If it were very heavy or needed batteries, I could conserve it for special occasions. Maybe I could come to count on it to find my way and stay there.
A lot of life tools are already in place for me these days. And yet, my footing slip-slides too easily. I can’t imagine what it would be like to feel solid, centered, secure, for longer than vacations and stream of consciousness moments. I can’t swim 2 or 3 times a day in my non-vacation life, but I can see the sunset, smell the garden basil, touch the soil, hear my daughter’s voice, feel the warmth of friendship.
I want at least some of my vacation tools to become life tools. I want to know that my toolbox will cover most occasions. Then I can more confidently live my interesting life. My week at Sebago Lake guides me to who I am when I live like this. I want to be this Me. Here. Now.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Bed and the Battlefield
Well, I'm sad, unhappy, disillusioned, disappointed, confused (etc etc) about the current state of the state and the shaky state of the world. How can it take so many centuries to figure out a different way to fight?
So here's my free thinking on the matter, written over a few installments:
Bed and the Battlefield
This I said
Could be my bed
If only my head
Could sleep instead.
But now I fret—
A large regret,
A presidential foolish bet
Several packs of cigarettes
Stored inside a dresser drawer
Guy-swagger in a sad sad war
Where hearts are bent and limbs so sore
I ask for less but hope for more
I wash my face,
Watch the chase,
Then take my place
And pray for grace.
I watch the news
When I should snooze
Stunned and bummed
By cities mummed
And homes in ruin,
What’s this guy doing
To lead like this:
A colossal miss
Of international
Non factional
And coolly rational
Peace among
The tested ones.
What's it take
to stop the guns?
It could be done
And in its place
A different face
With undue haste
a truce with grace,
a resting place.
I’ll go to bed
Tonight instead
And in the dawn
I’ll come along
Barely strong
But courage long
For steps for peace
A war at cease
An honest crease
For those the least.
And for those the more,
An open door
At its core
To change the future
Evermore.
So here's my free thinking on the matter, written over a few installments:
Bed and the Battlefield
This I said
Could be my bed
If only my head
Could sleep instead.
But now I fret—
A large regret,
A presidential foolish bet
Several packs of cigarettes
Stored inside a dresser drawer
Guy-swagger in a sad sad war
Where hearts are bent and limbs so sore
I ask for less but hope for more
I wash my face,
Watch the chase,
Then take my place
And pray for grace.
I watch the news
When I should snooze
Stunned and bummed
By cities mummed
And homes in ruin,
What’s this guy doing
To lead like this:
A colossal miss
Of international
Non factional
And coolly rational
Peace among
The tested ones.
What's it take
to stop the guns?
It could be done
And in its place
A different face
With undue haste
a truce with grace,
a resting place.
I’ll go to bed
Tonight instead
And in the dawn
I’ll come along
Barely strong
But courage long
For steps for peace
A war at cease
An honest crease
For those the least.
And for those the more,
An open door
At its core
To change the future
Evermore.
Monday, July 31, 2006
home again
I've been vacationing in Maine. It's been good. I swam in Sebago Lake 2 or 3 times a day. I read Julia Cameron's book The Right to Write and then I introduced myself as " a becoming writer" all week. I'm excited to catch up with everybody's blogs. It's good to be home.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Thursday 13 for Jessica
Last week was Jessica's 29th birthday. But not just that: we now know she is safely 13 weeks pregnant. We will welcome and love another treasured person in our family. Wow. I imagine I will be a playful vibrant grandmother: I certainly know there is plenty of wonder and mystery to share and discover.
In honor of Jess' birthday, here's a Thursday 13 for her:
1. 15 minutes after Jess was born, I ate a ham and cheese sandwich and could have eaten another.
2. When Jess was 14 I made her get a summer job, thinking the value of work and her own spending money was a good thing. She and her friend Annie found work in a shoe factory. After resisting the whole idea, she came home the first day with a new found enthusiasm. "it's really cool, mom. They'll pay you in shoes instead of money."
3. Jess could be a top notch detective. When Charles Stewart murdered his wife, she was weeks ahead of anyone else in saying he did it.
4. Jess could also be an attorney. At the youngest age she could persuade you her made-up words for scrabble were real.
5. Jess could also be a professional shopper. Nobody finds bargains like this girl.
6. She and I took a 3 week trip to the West Coast when she was 12. We started in Berkeley, drove down Highway 1 to LA and Disneyland,then San Diego, then drove across the Red Desert (?)through Utah to the Grand Canyon, where we rode mules half way down and my fear of heights just about had a heart attack.
7. I could tell Jess loved Mike the first time I saw them together.
8. Their wedding last September is a permanent best-memory: I can still remember every detail. They couldn't stop laughing through most of the solemn ceremony and that made the priest and minister laugh too.
9. The wedding party and parents, all formally dolled up, were trollied to the 3 pm tour of Fenway Park, before the 6 pm wedding in downtown Boston. The pictures of us all in the bleachers are priceless.
10. There is nothing worse than seeing your little child's feelings hurt by her friends: you'd like to beat them up for being mean, but of course, alas, you've got to choose a more non-confrontational path.
11. Jess has held on to almost all her friends from junior high, high school, and college.
12. I can't explain what makes Jess so funny, but you just have to listen to her for a few minutes and you know that she has a cynical and unique wit and way of seeing that no one else does.
13. I would absolutely positively run right into any burning house to rescue this daughter of mine. And knowing that, since the day she was born, has made me a better and better person.
Happy Birthday, Jess. Here's to everything ahead. Love Mom
In honor of Jess' birthday, here's a Thursday 13 for her:
1. 15 minutes after Jess was born, I ate a ham and cheese sandwich and could have eaten another.
2. When Jess was 14 I made her get a summer job, thinking the value of work and her own spending money was a good thing. She and her friend Annie found work in a shoe factory. After resisting the whole idea, she came home the first day with a new found enthusiasm. "it's really cool, mom. They'll pay you in shoes instead of money."
3. Jess could be a top notch detective. When Charles Stewart murdered his wife, she was weeks ahead of anyone else in saying he did it.
4. Jess could also be an attorney. At the youngest age she could persuade you her made-up words for scrabble were real.
5. Jess could also be a professional shopper. Nobody finds bargains like this girl.
6. She and I took a 3 week trip to the West Coast when she was 12. We started in Berkeley, drove down Highway 1 to LA and Disneyland,then San Diego, then drove across the Red Desert (?)through Utah to the Grand Canyon, where we rode mules half way down and my fear of heights just about had a heart attack.
7. I could tell Jess loved Mike the first time I saw them together.
8. Their wedding last September is a permanent best-memory: I can still remember every detail. They couldn't stop laughing through most of the solemn ceremony and that made the priest and minister laugh too.
9. The wedding party and parents, all formally dolled up, were trollied to the 3 pm tour of Fenway Park, before the 6 pm wedding in downtown Boston. The pictures of us all in the bleachers are priceless.
10. There is nothing worse than seeing your little child's feelings hurt by her friends: you'd like to beat them up for being mean, but of course, alas, you've got to choose a more non-confrontational path.
11. Jess has held on to almost all her friends from junior high, high school, and college.
12. I can't explain what makes Jess so funny, but you just have to listen to her for a few minutes and you know that she has a cynical and unique wit and way of seeing that no one else does.
13. I would absolutely positively run right into any burning house to rescue this daughter of mine. And knowing that, since the day she was born, has made me a better and better person.
Happy Birthday, Jess. Here's to everything ahead. Love Mom
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Thursday Thirteen
1. I had a parakeet named Chris who died upright on his perch. I couldn't believe it.
2. I'm in physical therapy to take care of my termpermental back and it's almost like going for a massage.
3. I love to stay up late-late and get up early-early.
4. I love this quiet time: sometimes I watch late night tv, sometimes I write, sometimes I read, sometimes I fall asleep on the couch.
5. Besides pizza and bread, I'm pretty fond of Dunkin Donuts boston cream donuts. I haven't had one in about 6 months...
6. My daughter Jessica is funnier than anyone else I know
7. jb taught me the value of good shoes.
8. We just painted our kitchen/den/dining room (small rooms) green/yellow on the top walls and orange on the bottom (with cream trim) and it came out fantastic. We were holding our breath after the first coat
9. I read tarot cards. The first deck I ever had was a James Bond set my mother gave me for Christmas. I don't really tell details about the future but the counselor in me gives a pretty good read.
10. I wish I could volunteer more for the Red Cross but I never seem to be free when they call me.
11. jb and I had a cookout last weekend in our "new" backyard. Our neighbors and friends came and jb, her sister cindy,I, and several friends cooked and prepared a good spread of appetizers, burgers and goodies.
12. I'm following the seasons here in Western Massachusetts: blueberries, cherries,unbelievable corn on the cob, and peaches are currently in.
13. Some day I plan to pull a police car over for speeding on the highway--my version of a citizen's arrest.
2. I'm in physical therapy to take care of my termpermental back and it's almost like going for a massage.
3. I love to stay up late-late and get up early-early.
4. I love this quiet time: sometimes I watch late night tv, sometimes I write, sometimes I read, sometimes I fall asleep on the couch.
5. Besides pizza and bread, I'm pretty fond of Dunkin Donuts boston cream donuts. I haven't had one in about 6 months...
6. My daughter Jessica is funnier than anyone else I know
7. jb taught me the value of good shoes.
8. We just painted our kitchen/den/dining room (small rooms) green/yellow on the top walls and orange on the bottom (with cream trim) and it came out fantastic. We were holding our breath after the first coat
9. I read tarot cards. The first deck I ever had was a James Bond set my mother gave me for Christmas. I don't really tell details about the future but the counselor in me gives a pretty good read.
10. I wish I could volunteer more for the Red Cross but I never seem to be free when they call me.
11. jb and I had a cookout last weekend in our "new" backyard. Our neighbors and friends came and jb, her sister cindy,I, and several friends cooked and prepared a good spread of appetizers, burgers and goodies.
12. I'm following the seasons here in Western Massachusetts: blueberries, cherries,unbelievable corn on the cob, and peaches are currently in.
13. Some day I plan to pull a police car over for speeding on the highway--my version of a citizen's arrest.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Not Ready to Make Nice
"I'm through with doubt.
There's nothing left for me to figure out.
I've paid a price.
And I'll keep paying.
I'm not ready to make nice.
I'm not ready to back down.
I'm still mad as hell and
I don't have time to go round and round and round.
It's too late to make it right.
I probably wouldn't if I could.
Cause I'm mad as hell.
Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should."
The Dixie Chicks
A few years ago the country-singing Dixie Chicks publicly criticized President Bush's actions in Iraq. They were effectively blackballed throughout country music and their song play and careers came to an abrupt halt.
It's not my intent or style to use this blog to advance my political opinion, or anybody else's. But taking this stand took courage and I admire that.
The Dixie Chicks are back with a new cd called "Taking the Long Way". And in that cd is a song called "Not Ready to Make Nice". Without knowing in advance how they and their music would be received, they made another decision to stand by what they believe in. You might not agree with them, but I for one admire their courage yet again.
And it's gotten me thinking about courage and conviction. I like the clarity and firmness of "not ready to make nice". It's clean and honest. It's realistic about consequences. And it's free of guilt. In this teetering time of nuclear weapons and tough guy approaches, I vote for more not less courage and conviction. And on a more mundane level, following the recent writing prompt on "guilt", I find it refreshing to be so clear and firm. No late night tossing and turning about something you believe is right, and that's a good thing.
"Taking the Long Way" is a really fine album. The Dixie Chicks have had their comeback tour cancelled in some states and venues due lack of support or concerns about safety. While there's still plenty of fans, I encourage you to buy the cd, enjoy it, and support these 3 women for speaking their minds and exercising their backbone.
Not ready to make nice is the opposite of numb, and I'm for more of that too.
There's nothing left for me to figure out.
I've paid a price.
And I'll keep paying.
I'm not ready to make nice.
I'm not ready to back down.
I'm still mad as hell and
I don't have time to go round and round and round.
It's too late to make it right.
I probably wouldn't if I could.
Cause I'm mad as hell.
Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should."
The Dixie Chicks
A few years ago the country-singing Dixie Chicks publicly criticized President Bush's actions in Iraq. They were effectively blackballed throughout country music and their song play and careers came to an abrupt halt.
It's not my intent or style to use this blog to advance my political opinion, or anybody else's. But taking this stand took courage and I admire that.
The Dixie Chicks are back with a new cd called "Taking the Long Way". And in that cd is a song called "Not Ready to Make Nice". Without knowing in advance how they and their music would be received, they made another decision to stand by what they believe in. You might not agree with them, but I for one admire their courage yet again.
And it's gotten me thinking about courage and conviction. I like the clarity and firmness of "not ready to make nice". It's clean and honest. It's realistic about consequences. And it's free of guilt. In this teetering time of nuclear weapons and tough guy approaches, I vote for more not less courage and conviction. And on a more mundane level, following the recent writing prompt on "guilt", I find it refreshing to be so clear and firm. No late night tossing and turning about something you believe is right, and that's a good thing.
"Taking the Long Way" is a really fine album. The Dixie Chicks have had their comeback tour cancelled in some states and venues due lack of support or concerns about safety. While there's still plenty of fans, I encourage you to buy the cd, enjoy it, and support these 3 women for speaking their minds and exercising their backbone.
Not ready to make nice is the opposite of numb, and I'm for more of that too.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
The Thursday Thirteen
1. I have a master's degree in rehab. counseling
2. The best hot chocolate I've ever had was at Angelina's cafe in Paris
3. I know how to use an electric screwdriver
4. But I don't know how to change a flat tire (and probably never will)
5. I went to a butterfly sanctuary today and was afraid of the butterflies (they flew all over the place)
6. I eat red meat 2-3 times a year
7. I eat chocolate 2-3 times a week
8. I like grocery shopping and paying bills but I hate doing laundry and vacuuming
9. My 2 week stint with the Red Cross in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina changed who I am--for the better
10. I stash away 20 dollar bills a couple of times a month and one time I accumulated over a thousand dollars that way
11. The funniest movie I've ever seen is "Sordid Lives"--I've seen it 3 times
12. I don't accessorize very well
13. When I come across a joke I like, I'll tell it to someone else every chance I get
2. The best hot chocolate I've ever had was at Angelina's cafe in Paris
3. I know how to use an electric screwdriver
4. But I don't know how to change a flat tire (and probably never will)
5. I went to a butterfly sanctuary today and was afraid of the butterflies (they flew all over the place)
6. I eat red meat 2-3 times a year
7. I eat chocolate 2-3 times a week
8. I like grocery shopping and paying bills but I hate doing laundry and vacuuming
9. My 2 week stint with the Red Cross in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina changed who I am--for the better
10. I stash away 20 dollar bills a couple of times a month and one time I accumulated over a thousand dollars that way
11. The funniest movie I've ever seen is "Sordid Lives"--I've seen it 3 times
12. I don't accessorize very well
13. When I come across a joke I like, I'll tell it to someone else every chance I get
A Zen-ie Thought for the Day
A man walks into a diner. When the waitress comes to take his order, he asks her:
"Did you see me come in?"
"Yes", she said.
"Have you ever seen me before?"
"No", she said.
"Then how did you know it was me?"
"Did you see me come in?"
"Yes", she said.
"Have you ever seen me before?"
"No", she said.
"Then how did you know it was me?"
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Thoughts about Blogging
I'm starting to wonder about connections and friendships from blogging. It's weird to share, to learn about someone, let alone care about them, without knowing them in some other context, or perhaps never meeting, seeing their face, hearing their voice, knowing where and how they live. One of the contributors to Illustration Friday has "disappeared"--she hasn't made an entry in weeks, and I find myself worrying about her, wondering what happened. It feels oddly strange that I'd like to know she's ok.
For a couple of years I was part of a dog group: we'd meet in the middle of a park every day with our dogs; we'd talk, laugh, catch up, philosophize--all this on a first name basis but not much else. Ususually we didn't know eachother's last names,about our work selves, homes, kids, backgrounds etc. But we knew what was happening day to day, as we shared stories about the best shoes for sub zero (ughs), places to take our dogs, the murder of sharon's beloved son, and the rearranging of jonatha's music and career. I remember thinking how lovely it was to have relationships based so fully and soley in the present moment.
Is blogging the same kind of connection? Can you really come to know someone in this way? How are personal boundaries different, if at all? How can you be who you are and yet be discreet in what you share about yourself?
These are my thoughts on this fine Thursday night. Any comments?
For a couple of years I was part of a dog group: we'd meet in the middle of a park every day with our dogs; we'd talk, laugh, catch up, philosophize--all this on a first name basis but not much else. Ususually we didn't know eachother's last names,about our work selves, homes, kids, backgrounds etc. But we knew what was happening day to day, as we shared stories about the best shoes for sub zero (ughs), places to take our dogs, the murder of sharon's beloved son, and the rearranging of jonatha's music and career. I remember thinking how lovely it was to have relationships based so fully and soley in the present moment.
Is blogging the same kind of connection? Can you really come to know someone in this way? How are personal boundaries different, if at all? How can you be who you are and yet be discreet in what you share about yourself?
These are my thoughts on this fine Thursday night. Any comments?
Thursday Thirteen
1. I would drive all day to have lunch or dinner at Mr. Sushi in Brookline. I order the california rolls, chicken terraki rolls and shrimp tempura rolls--no raw fish for me--these three are a piece of heaven.
2. The first time I remember deeply crying was when i read Nobody's Boy. I was probably 1o and it was the first book i ever checked out of the library
3. I was cast as Aida in a Neil Coward play my senior high school school and during a few performances I made up my own lines a couple of times, to the pleasure of the audience and to the dismay of the lead actress
4. I can uncover or create any resource for any occasion. I'm just persistent.
5. I love playing slot machines even though I lose every time
6. Two of my best friends were killed in accidents before they turned 30
7. I love Paris for reasons I don't understand but I could live there
8. I'm a good counselor
9. My first car was an Austin my father rebuilt for me. It had little hands that stuck out for directionals and I was only allowed to drive it two miles to the busstop and back. He later rebuilt a Metropolitan for me, which was probably the smallest car ever made. It had a little bench for the back seat.
10. For the first time in my life I have a yard with full sun. I am a squealing-with-delight gardener these days.
11. I am re-inventing myself as a writer. When my first publication occurs, I plan to celebrate with a hot fudge sundae,and then a trip to mr. sushi.
12. I love my laptop computer more than I ever dreamed I would.
13. I'm 58 (wow!)but feel alot younger: I'm pretty satisfied with my life these days.
ps A: this is for you. I was arrested for breaking and entering at age 13 because i and 2 of my friends happily met three boys we liked for a little get together in the woods of a private boarded up estate. one of us got the idea to open a window and check out the estate. first we stood on a little table and broke it, then an alarm went off, then the car wouldn't start, and then appeared two policemen who actually surrounded us. it took a week for them to call my parents about it and my father brought me to the policestation and volunteered me to pick up leaves as a punishment. I was mortified, and by the way, none of the three of us ended up with any of the guys. such is the life of a 13 year old...
2. The first time I remember deeply crying was when i read Nobody's Boy. I was probably 1o and it was the first book i ever checked out of the library
3. I was cast as Aida in a Neil Coward play my senior high school school and during a few performances I made up my own lines a couple of times, to the pleasure of the audience and to the dismay of the lead actress
4. I can uncover or create any resource for any occasion. I'm just persistent.
5. I love playing slot machines even though I lose every time
6. Two of my best friends were killed in accidents before they turned 30
7. I love Paris for reasons I don't understand but I could live there
8. I'm a good counselor
9. My first car was an Austin my father rebuilt for me. It had little hands that stuck out for directionals and I was only allowed to drive it two miles to the busstop and back. He later rebuilt a Metropolitan for me, which was probably the smallest car ever made. It had a little bench for the back seat.
10. For the first time in my life I have a yard with full sun. I am a squealing-with-delight gardener these days.
11. I am re-inventing myself as a writer. When my first publication occurs, I plan to celebrate with a hot fudge sundae,and then a trip to mr. sushi.
12. I love my laptop computer more than I ever dreamed I would.
13. I'm 58 (wow!)but feel alot younger: I'm pretty satisfied with my life these days.
ps A: this is for you. I was arrested for breaking and entering at age 13 because i and 2 of my friends happily met three boys we liked for a little get together in the woods of a private boarded up estate. one of us got the idea to open a window and check out the estate. first we stood on a little table and broke it, then an alarm went off, then the car wouldn't start, and then appeared two policemen who actually surrounded us. it took a week for them to call my parents about it and my father brought me to the policestation and volunteered me to pick up leaves as a punishment. I was mortified, and by the way, none of the three of us ended up with any of the guys. such is the life of a 13 year old...
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
The Prompt that Preferred Summer Lounging
Since I suggested this prompt, here it is, but be forewarned: I'm imaginatively floating in an imaginary pool, readying for an imaginary margarita.
The Road Not Taken
I took a left instead of right
And followed an unlikely sight.
Up ahead beneath a tree
Was someone looking just like me.
She quinched her eyes
She looked surprised
She shook her head
And finally said,
“Because I’m here
I’m never there.
I may look lost
But that’s the cost
Of being me and never you
I recommend it through and through”
The Road Not Taken
I took a left instead of right
And followed an unlikely sight.
Up ahead beneath a tree
Was someone looking just like me.
She quinched her eyes
She looked surprised
She shook her head
And finally said,
“Because I’m here
I’m never there.
I may look lost
But that’s the cost
Of being me and never you
I recommend it through and through”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)