Category: Rules To Live By

Coffee & Meditation

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Some mornings I only get out of bed because of the coffee. And my journal. And my friends. Okay, and my family. But coffee comes first.

Today’s Valentine’s Day. Perhaps it’s a little depressing for many? Like my family of origin, my husband’s not too big on gifts, cards, remembering holidays. I, on the other hand — the one who overcompensates — made every one a personalized Valentine’s Day card. And though I didn’t get much — or anything — at home, I did get some little cards with fair trade chocolates and a pink Valentine’s dish towel at work. I love my work peeps!

It was an ordinary day. I worked my job, did Pilates at lunch, worked again, then taught a session of comedy/improv at the Middle School, made dinner, shared dinner with the fam, went to the theater with my husband, (we saw The Broken Heart a play from the 1620s by John Ford — it was a bit of a slog). I took the subway home alone (I couldn’t stay for the second half). I shooed the kids to bed. I did the dishes.

And tomorrow I’ll do it all over again (though I hope I don’t have to see that play again).

I want to be grateful for every single day. I want to have an open, loving heart, especially on Valentine’s Day. And I did find one moment of deep calm and contentment in my day. At the end of Pilates class, Shayne, our teacher, turned off the lights. We lay in the Yoga corpse pose, Savasana. Then, Shayne read this poem by Hafiz:

The Sun Never Says

Even after all this time
The sun never says to the earth,
“You owe Me.”

Look what happens with
A love like that,
It lights the Whole Sky.

Is that amazing, or what? Meditation is almost as good as coffee.

thoughts on Whitney Houston’s death

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Whitney Houston (from creative commons, wikipedia)

I like being ordinary. When I was younger, I wanted to be famous. I wanted to act, dance, write, host a talk show, be on TV. (Okay, yes, I did these things, but not in a big way. When I was younger, I was frustrated with my lack of fame; but lately I’m happy I never hit it big. I could never have withstood the attention.)

I don’t know whether to blame Whitney’s death (or Michael Jackson’s or Amy Winehouse’s or Elvis’s or you name them) on our f’ed up culture that elevates celebrity and then loves to watch our elevated gods plummet. Or maybe I should blame the pervasiveness of drugs and alcohol in pop culture. Or better yet, let’s acknowledge the reality that drug and alcohol addictions are diseases — diseases that inevitably and eventually kill people if left untreated. The best treatment is the one that includes 12 steps and anonymity (the exact opposite of celebrity!)

As a society, we need to get in the habit of finding heroes in our real lives, not in movies, fan magazines, or political parties. Then, let’s build each other up — don’t put each other down or delight in anyone’s demise.

Our outpouring of love for people who’ve died from addiction is too late. Yet every person has the potential to heal from diseases of addiction.

If someone you know needs healing from a disease of addiction, tell them, write to them, let them know that their illness can be treated; that they can get better. This is hard to do. Do we ever tell people we worry about their drinking? I rarely do. When I have had those conversations, it’s been very hard. I’ve needed to detach with love. Give people their dignity. Give them their choice — the choice to recover is always there. Making that choice as a public person must be extremely difficult.

Yet life’s difficult journeys are the ones we learn and grow the most from. The difficult times are the moments that teach us to be real and to love one another. That is, at least, what I tell myself. Me, someone ordinary, not someone famous, but someone who is alive and happy and grateful for each new day.

Marriage and Work

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While my husband has been away for a month, I’ve been extremely productive — embarking on a new job; completing writing and art projects; making new parenting connections. I wonder if my productivity has anything to do with being single, even briefly.

Was thinking about this when I took a walk in Riverside Park at lunch time yesterday.

Is it possible that relationships — particularly marriages — take up energy that might be (better?) spent pursuing art?

In my Henry James class in college we talked about this a lot. James never married and was incredibly prolific — coincidence? James advocated substituting sexual desire with creativity. He thought marriage was deadly to artists, particularly writers.

I remember feeling this after I split up from my first husband (I always feel like Zsa Zsa Gabor when I refer to my “first” husband), I remember wondering then: ‘If I had not spent all this effort in my marriage, to what heights could I have climbed.’

No one argues that relationships take work, but once free of that work, even for a month, the possibilities for other creative and, let’s face it, better paying, work emerges.

Going Just A Little Bit Out of My Way

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I am always shocked that my kids make it to the school bus on time. In the morning, I am the pit boss of the Indy 500 — fixing broken wheels and finding socks. So the fact that the kids get launched into the world every single morning — and have never missed the bus — shocks me.

It’s about the routine. To save me from the huffing and puffing and stress of the morning launch, I’m thinking we should tune up our morning and evening routines.

Grant's Tomb at dusk

I started thinking about how one small action can cause a new chain reaction last night, when I stood waiting at my usual bus stop for my usual M5 bus. I saw the golden light of sunset and realized I had not taken a photo for the day. So I walked towards the next bus stop.

And on the way to my new stop in the dusky light, the sunset was brighter, the Hudson more reflective and Grant’s Tomb more pinkish.

kids skateboard near Grant's Tomb

Walking to my new bus stop, I passed a bunch of kids skateboarding. And I thought, I’ve got to do this more often — find a new way. Because right next to my usual routine is something dazzling and brilliant.

I don’t know if one small tweak will help me with our morning and evening family routines, but I think it’s worth a shot. Chris, my husband, has been gone for nearly a month, directing a show in Florida, so I think the time is now to get into a good new habit before he comes home!

My Life as Superwoman

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My days have been chock full. In no particular order, over the last couple of weeks:

  • I discovered I have more basal cell carcinoma (this time, on my hairline). Surgery is tomorrow.
  • I have taught creative writing at a public middle school.
  • I bought a sectional couch and rearranged the family room. (I believe the Raymour & Flanigan salesman gave me a nice discount because he admired my tenacity and good spirits as I furniture shopped with boisterous preteens and a teen.)
  • I have been solo-parenting while my husband Chris is in Florida for a month, directing Picasso at Lapin Agile.
  • I have met a challenge with teen boys’ behavior. Say no more.
  • I have had sick daughters (one with strep throat, the other with swimmer’s ear).
  • I have started an interim job as a writer for another faith-based organization, a women’s group.
  • I have received an email, first contact in 20 years, from my ex.
  • I have been taking a sketch class at the Art Students League. I have been painting, drawing, and collaging a lot. And even sold some art.
  • I have been taking a photo every day.
  • I have been journaling every day.
the fog in Riverside Park on one of my lunchtime walks

I could elaborate on any one one of these bullet points. Suffice it to say, I have felt like Superwoman, empowered and challenged. Being Superwoman is tiring.

I have felt, just recently, the need to slow down. Perhaps February can be a month for that.

All of my work — my art, writing, and teaching fills my soul and I intend to keep on keeping on. My husband suggested that when he comes back, I should go to a spa for a few days. I like that. Until then, I might just curl up on the new sofa with a good book.

Making Stuff Makes Me Happy

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I have been taking a photo a day for about two months now. I post the pictures on Facebook. Sometimes I don’t feel like taking a picture. But it takes two seconds and often the result surprises me. One friend told me on Facebook, “I love your photos of the day. They are always so lovely, AND they make me want to move to NYC.” She made that comment yesterday when I had stopped for a moment to notice this doorway.

But I can’t take all the credit. The filters at Instagram make my photos look artsy. Ten million people are using Instagram (is that possible?) Also, I’ve been dipping into the Effy Wild’s Book of Days, which is inspiring one thousand people to fling glitter and self-love around in pursuit of a daily journal. (I try for weekly.)

Everyone is an artist. I believe this. I believe we get an endorphin rush every time we create. When we run too — although I have not been running much lately. Humans are wired to love creativity and fitness. Being athletic and artsy are natural de-stressors.

I love the feeling of an inch of charcoal in my fingers or the swoosh of a loaded paint brush against the paper. I love the click on my phone’s camera. I love hitting the Publish button on my blog.

I just love making stuff.

Seeing My Life as an Adventure

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the view from my office

This year I will notice the sun. My life is enshrouded in office dullness. I want nothing more than light — the shine and vitamin D of the sun.

In my sadness, in my busyness, I rush by, failing to notice the sun, the sky, the birds, the laughter, the people.

The sun is now setting; the day is gone. I noticed in a meeting earlier today how everyone ducked their head into their laptops as if their computer screens were a shield, protecting them from what? Each other? Very few of us made eye contact.

New Year’s Resolution: I will notice the color of people’s eyes.

I will be a people person, not a screen person. I will listen more deeply.

I often have something to say; I open my mouth quite easily. There is hardly a topic that you can mention that I don’t know one fact or have one statistic about. I have an opinion on everything.

I do not know everything. There is wisdom in not knowing, in noticing. There is quiet. There can be lulls in conversations. Usually when there’s a void, I tend to jump in. I hate the chasm. Like in a Harry Potter movie, a wide open space must be jumped across. But what if the wide open space simply was a place to meander, to linger.

I am so tired of being the engine that makes every little thing go. “I can’t do it, I can’t do,” I sobbed the other night when I couldn’t sleep. Yes, literally sobbed. The worries of my day multiplied, work worries times Chris’s decline times the kids growing up.

But what if I just stood at the side of the chasm and did nothing? I could stand there like a spelunker at the side of a cave. I have loved a mystery, an adventure. What if — ah, this is good — I saw my life as a quest?

I saw myself as going after something — I am Dorothy in the land of Oz, trying to find her way home.

I open to the chasm. I walk the yellow brick road. I am an adventurer at a crossroads. I am looking this way and that. I am listening for clues. For the sound of a waterfall or the barking of my dog ToTo.

I am not alone, yet I must make my quest alone. And when I come out the other side of the chasm, I can look back and think, I have come far, I have crossed that. Or maybe I’ll just fall into the fiery pit and be burnt to a crisp. That, too, happens in an adventure story.

But to see life as a journey, as a quest, this is the path to follow.

2011 in review

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The WordPress.com stats helpers prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

 

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Syndey Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 11,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

My Four Directions

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Today I took a walk in the North woods.
  • East is the direction of new beginnings, a sunrise or a new friend.
  • South is for the brightest light, the way the Southern sky fills the outside world so completely that the light must tumble into your room and heart too.
  • West is the land of the sunset and of letting go.
  • North is the direction of the North Star, the unchangeable and fixed beam in a velvet black night.

Native Americans value theses four directions and offer prayers and gratitude for Mother Earth and her four directions.

To say good bye to 2011 and hello to 2012, here is my take on my four directions.

My East is my mastery with writing. In 2011 I wrote a lot. I was published in cool places and won a few nice awards. I taught some amazing people and made new friends. My writing and indulgence in creativity made every day new.

My South is, of course, my kids. They brighten every single day. And as my neighbor Ron says, “Not one of them is a shrinking violet.” They bring me so much light and laughter (and yes, tears and frustration and hard work too.) But always, they fill my life with light.

My West is the sadness around the decline in intimacy with Chris due to his Parkinson’s Disease and our differing levels of energy and engagement. This is a place of light and dark for me, and a sunset on certain dreams that we used to share.

My North is my faith in a Higher Power, not always seen but always felt in a tug towards compassion and creative living.

This post was inspired by The Circle of Wholeness: New Year’s Reflections http://dld.bz/aAZrw by Joel and Michelle Levey

What are your four directions? Your beginnings? Your light? Your sunset? Your North Star?

Work with what I have

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So I love writing in my journal every day. And I love resolving to be better, love more deeply, have more compassion.

And today’s journaling reminded me that like a lot of people, I believe my answers are outside of me somewhere.

But wait. Happiness is an inside job. I have to find my way with what I’ve got — the people, the work, the home.

No team from The Learning Channel is going to swoop down and give me a make-over (new clothes, new apartment, new YOU!) I have to keep making my life new. And I have to use what I already have to do it. And what I have is good enough. What I have is good.

This journal entry is no big whoop. And I’m kinda goofing around with my new iPhone to see how it works to write with and on my smartphone.
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