Happy All Hallow's Eve. Today I'm leaving on a jet plane. Packed and ready to go.
My old roommate did a lot of touring of Broadway shows. She showed me the secret to packing a lot of stuff into a small space. It's all about using your suitcase as a shelf. If you pack it like a shelf you have access to everything and can see everything while fitting a ton of stuff into the bag.
After re-packing (realized that Europe requires different clothes this time of year than Los Angeles) everything until about 2AM there's still room left for fun stuff to bring home....or bags of coffee for the peeps at work.
I've eaten so much sugar from the Halloween candy at the office that my veins are vibrating. Or, as we used to call it before the digital age created a whole new meaning for the word...I feel like I'm twittering. Flit here, flit there, knock my knee into the desk drawer for another bruise here, trip over the chair over there. That's what happens when you're tired and you have too much sugar in your blood.
Even my thoughts are flying all over the place. Zoom, zoom, zzoooooooommmmm.....
31 October 2008
18 October 2008
Move and Be Still
Timepieces have always caught my eye. I guess I should clarify that. Old timepieces or pieces where you can see pieces move catch my eye. I guess that's why I love the Astronomical clock in Prague so much. (See my profile picture.)
Ironically, I don't often wear a watch. Nor do I enjoy clocking time. It passes far too quickly or slowly depending on the long or short term and the situation.
In a few weeks I'll be traveling overseas. It's been a few years since I've really traveled. Far too long. And yet, when I think back on all the trips I've taken--whether they were months long or days long--they seem like a blip in my life. It never seems long enough, does it? And if I didn't have the memories and the experiences it could be as if it never happened. It's like that with all trips.
I've spoken with traveling Europeans who have months to travel. They feel the same way. But we all love it. Love how it changes our perspective. Gets us out of our comfort zone and into seeing new sights, meeting new people, and putting ourselves in new situations. Of course, a trip only changes you as much as you let it.
"Let's go to Burger King."
My heart drops. We're in another country that has wonderful food. Yes, it's different from the usual American fare but that's part of the adventure. Unless there is a dietary restriction (I'm lactose intolerant) I try to try everything.
In my travels I've eaten cooked blood, duck brains, snake, alligator, duck feet and tongue, eyeballs, innards, and probably a lot of other stuff that I don't even know I ate because I didn't know what it was but wanted to be polite.
My parents taught me that culture is everything when you're traveling. It is so important to know what is insulting and what is not. To notice how people react to things if you haven't already studied the culture.
It's important to know that in Asia it is rude to not clean your plate. And when someone offers you something you say "no" and they will offer again, and you say "no" and they offer you again, and then you say "yes, okay, you're too polite, thank you."
I thank them for that lesson. It's really helped me feel at home in a lot of situations when I was far from home.
When I lived in London for a short time I noticed the scowls on the faces of the taxi/lorry drivers when American friends just hopped into the car first and then stated where they wanted to go. And then I noticed that my British friends would lean into the open passenger window and state where they wanted to go and only after getting a response from the driver would they step into the vehicle. On the rare occasions I didn't take the Tube, Lorry drivers were much nicer to me because I did the lean and ask before I opened the door.
Traveling can show you more of who you really are. Especially when you're traveling alone. But even if you aren't...you can surprise yourself. Situations pop up that you don't expect. You can be more courageous or more fearful than you thought yourself to be. When you're in a country where you're not familiar with the language you can find yourself more flexible or capable or inflexible or incapable.
You can find yourself following an 80 year old woman down the streets of Rome to a hidden hostel in a cozy but very strange neighborhood. She'll be chattering away at you and you won't understand anything except her gestures and the pointing of directions.
You can find yourself pick pocketed in Ireland having arrived only 5 minutes into the city having nothing left to get back home. And there you learn that being too trusting has its faults too.
In the end, I guess its the same thing that draws me to both wonderful timepieces and travel. It's the movement. To be able to see the movement and how things change. How things work inside because of the movement. Each move causes something new to happen and that change causes another change inside and that, in turn, moves something else.
And then, every once in awhile, something big happens and things stand still. And we take in those moments as well. Why? Well, because in the world of movement absolute stillness draws attention doesn't it? We notice the moment someone gasps and holds their breath. Events go in slow motion when we get into an accident. The old tradition of stopping the ticking clock in a home when someone dies....and then the movement begins once more.
It may be a moment of stillness. It may be weeks. But movement does begin again as does change. Both bear growth. And if they go on too long, both can bear stagnation as well. So we move and be still, move and be still.
Well..I'm ready to move. And I'm looking forward to it.
Ironically, I don't often wear a watch. Nor do I enjoy clocking time. It passes far too quickly or slowly depending on the long or short term and the situation.
In a few weeks I'll be traveling overseas. It's been a few years since I've really traveled. Far too long. And yet, when I think back on all the trips I've taken--whether they were months long or days long--they seem like a blip in my life. It never seems long enough, does it? And if I didn't have the memories and the experiences it could be as if it never happened. It's like that with all trips.
I've spoken with traveling Europeans who have months to travel. They feel the same way. But we all love it. Love how it changes our perspective. Gets us out of our comfort zone and into seeing new sights, meeting new people, and putting ourselves in new situations. Of course, a trip only changes you as much as you let it.
"Let's go to Burger King."
My heart drops. We're in another country that has wonderful food. Yes, it's different from the usual American fare but that's part of the adventure. Unless there is a dietary restriction (I'm lactose intolerant) I try to try everything.
In my travels I've eaten cooked blood, duck brains, snake, alligator, duck feet and tongue, eyeballs, innards, and probably a lot of other stuff that I don't even know I ate because I didn't know what it was but wanted to be polite.
My parents taught me that culture is everything when you're traveling. It is so important to know what is insulting and what is not. To notice how people react to things if you haven't already studied the culture.
It's important to know that in Asia it is rude to not clean your plate. And when someone offers you something you say "no" and they will offer again, and you say "no" and they offer you again, and then you say "yes, okay, you're too polite, thank you."
I thank them for that lesson. It's really helped me feel at home in a lot of situations when I was far from home.
When I lived in London for a short time I noticed the scowls on the faces of the taxi/lorry drivers when American friends just hopped into the car first and then stated where they wanted to go. And then I noticed that my British friends would lean into the open passenger window and state where they wanted to go and only after getting a response from the driver would they step into the vehicle. On the rare occasions I didn't take the Tube, Lorry drivers were much nicer to me because I did the lean and ask before I opened the door.
Traveling can show you more of who you really are. Especially when you're traveling alone. But even if you aren't...you can surprise yourself. Situations pop up that you don't expect. You can be more courageous or more fearful than you thought yourself to be. When you're in a country where you're not familiar with the language you can find yourself more flexible or capable or inflexible or incapable.
You can find yourself following an 80 year old woman down the streets of Rome to a hidden hostel in a cozy but very strange neighborhood. She'll be chattering away at you and you won't understand anything except her gestures and the pointing of directions.
You can find yourself pick pocketed in Ireland having arrived only 5 minutes into the city having nothing left to get back home. And there you learn that being too trusting has its faults too.
In the end, I guess its the same thing that draws me to both wonderful timepieces and travel. It's the movement. To be able to see the movement and how things change. How things work inside because of the movement. Each move causes something new to happen and that change causes another change inside and that, in turn, moves something else.
And then, every once in awhile, something big happens and things stand still. And we take in those moments as well. Why? Well, because in the world of movement absolute stillness draws attention doesn't it? We notice the moment someone gasps and holds their breath. Events go in slow motion when we get into an accident. The old tradition of stopping the ticking clock in a home when someone dies....and then the movement begins once more.
It may be a moment of stillness. It may be weeks. But movement does begin again as does change. Both bear growth. And if they go on too long, both can bear stagnation as well. So we move and be still, move and be still.
Well..I'm ready to move. And I'm looking forward to it.
09 October 2008
Isn't it Ironic?
"I can't believe you made that choice."
"What?"
"I just wouldn't have made that choice."
We hear a lot about how we're supposed to be. How we're supposed to behave, live, and even choose. Since before we could walk people projected their hopes and dreams for who we could possibly become upon us.
And as we grow up....
"Want to be popular with the ladies? Just buy this cologne/deodorant/shirt/shampoo/watch."
"My life is so much better since I've lost 50 lbs. Just eat this pill/join this program/join this gym/sign on to purchase this vibrating exercise machine and you'll have a better life."
...advertisers do the same.
We're told that who we are isn't good enough - we need to be sexier, thinner, smarter, richer; we need to be more rebellious, fashionable, hippie, good, bad, conservative, liberal, eloquent, or funny.
And then we buy into it. Literally.
So then, the question must be asked. What about now?
What about who we are now? At this moment? When do we get to enjoy and revel in the person we are? Whether we're fat, thin, tall, short, good, evil, beautiful, or ugly, street smart, not so street smart, intelligent, average, or below average. When do we not have to work so hard at becoming a better person, to be more of this or that?
We're told "You're special, You're unique, You're different," and when we do things as if we are special or unique or different we're asked, "What makes you so special? What makes you think you're so unique? How are you different from everyone else?" and we're shamed into changing the way we think about ourselves.
When do we accept that yes, we all have dreams and wants, and desires that are important--but who I am in the now is pretty cool?
It's when we choose to close our eyes and ears to what the world is telling us and we let ourselves just be. Some people have already learned the secret to this. And that is pretty cool. Actually, it's more that pretty cool. It's exceptionally cool. For most of us, it comes and it goes. Phases of acceptance. Phases of feeling inadequate. And we struggle to just be. And be contently.
Ironic, isn't it? That we work so hard to become capable of that something for which we are so aptly named? A human being.
Yes, so ironic...and so human.
"What?"
"I just wouldn't have made that choice."
We hear a lot about how we're supposed to be. How we're supposed to behave, live, and even choose. Since before we could walk people projected their hopes and dreams for who we could possibly become upon us.
And as we grow up....
"Want to be popular with the ladies? Just buy this cologne/deodorant/shirt/shampoo/watch."
"My life is so much better since I've lost 50 lbs. Just eat this pill/join this program/join this gym/sign on to purchase this vibrating exercise machine and you'll have a better life."
...advertisers do the same.
We're told that who we are isn't good enough - we need to be sexier, thinner, smarter, richer; we need to be more rebellious, fashionable, hippie, good, bad, conservative, liberal, eloquent, or funny.
And then we buy into it. Literally.
So then, the question must be asked. What about now?
What about who we are now? At this moment? When do we get to enjoy and revel in the person we are? Whether we're fat, thin, tall, short, good, evil, beautiful, or ugly, street smart, not so street smart, intelligent, average, or below average. When do we not have to work so hard at becoming a better person, to be more of this or that?
We're told "You're special, You're unique, You're different," and when we do things as if we are special or unique or different we're asked, "What makes you so special? What makes you think you're so unique? How are you different from everyone else?" and we're shamed into changing the way we think about ourselves.
When do we accept that yes, we all have dreams and wants, and desires that are important--but who I am in the now is pretty cool?
It's when we choose to close our eyes and ears to what the world is telling us and we let ourselves just be. Some people have already learned the secret to this. And that is pretty cool. Actually, it's more that pretty cool. It's exceptionally cool. For most of us, it comes and it goes. Phases of acceptance. Phases of feeling inadequate. And we struggle to just be. And be contently.
Ironic, isn't it? That we work so hard to become capable of that something for which we are so aptly named? A human being.
Yes, so ironic...and so human.
13 June 2008
Are Wii Still?
The virtual trainer welcomes me to another workout with him. I like the light blue Wii trainer shirt he wears. What I don't like is having to keep within the yellow square as he walks me through both yoga and strength moves.
One exercise requires that I move to one position and back to start. Something so easy usually. But I'm supposed to hold the position for 50 seconds and then go back to my start position. Hold it? 5 seconds - okay. 10 seconds - this isn't so bad. 30 seconds - are you kidding me? 40 seconds - just hold it! Hold it! 45 seconds - Bobble City! Yes! I know my leg is shaky. You don't have to tell me. 50 seconds - yay! I can stop now.
After a day I'm really sore. But I didn't really do anything that made me sweat. Of course, my tree pose sucks. How do you get your foot to stay there without slipping?
One thing I'm learning is that stillness is 1.) really hard and 2.) an active thing. Who knew? You have to actively work on being still? Yes. The little red dot squiggles all over the screen showing me how much I'm actually shifting and swaying.
You know doing an exercise is easy fast. Doing it slow and holding it there is hard. But that actually applies to life doesn't it? You can get somewhere--achieve something quickly with relative ease as long as you know where you're going and what it looks and feels like.
But holding a position - at your goal - that's the hard part. Whether it's a marriage or success or a grant/scholarship or a goal weight. That's what makes the mind and body quake and where the effort comes in. That's where distractions can mean collapse or at least a major bobble if you're not careful. And you're more likely to be able to hold the goal, or whatever in life it is, if you got there slowly.
Momentum carries us places. Entropy too. But to actively be still...
As I sit on the Wii fit board and look at the screen the candle quivers every time focus is lost and I shift. The goal is to stay absolutely still. If you move the candle flame goes out. My first time I didn't last 13 seconds. You'd think just sitting there it would be easy to not move. But we do. In little increments. All the time.
As I sit an old Bible story runs through my mind. You know, the whole thing about how there was a huge and powerful wind and God was not in the wind and then came an earthquake and God was not in the earthquake, and then there's a fire and God's not in the fire. But then, there is stillness and quiet. And there God is.
The modern world is big on moving and moving fast. Maybe with the price of gas we'll learn more about being still. There must be something to that. After all, if it's been encouraged for thousands of years throughout various religious and cultural backgrounds; how can it be totally wrong?
"KA!" yells the voice. Out the flame goes. Darn it! *sigh* Still learning.
One exercise requires that I move to one position and back to start. Something so easy usually. But I'm supposed to hold the position for 50 seconds and then go back to my start position. Hold it? 5 seconds - okay. 10 seconds - this isn't so bad. 30 seconds - are you kidding me? 40 seconds - just hold it! Hold it! 45 seconds - Bobble City! Yes! I know my leg is shaky. You don't have to tell me. 50 seconds - yay! I can stop now.
After a day I'm really sore. But I didn't really do anything that made me sweat. Of course, my tree pose sucks. How do you get your foot to stay there without slipping?
One thing I'm learning is that stillness is 1.) really hard and 2.) an active thing. Who knew? You have to actively work on being still? Yes. The little red dot squiggles all over the screen showing me how much I'm actually shifting and swaying.
You know doing an exercise is easy fast. Doing it slow and holding it there is hard. But that actually applies to life doesn't it? You can get somewhere--achieve something quickly with relative ease as long as you know where you're going and what it looks and feels like.
But holding a position - at your goal - that's the hard part. Whether it's a marriage or success or a grant/scholarship or a goal weight. That's what makes the mind and body quake and where the effort comes in. That's where distractions can mean collapse or at least a major bobble if you're not careful. And you're more likely to be able to hold the goal, or whatever in life it is, if you got there slowly.
Momentum carries us places. Entropy too. But to actively be still...
As I sit on the Wii fit board and look at the screen the candle quivers every time focus is lost and I shift. The goal is to stay absolutely still. If you move the candle flame goes out. My first time I didn't last 13 seconds. You'd think just sitting there it would be easy to not move. But we do. In little increments. All the time.
As I sit an old Bible story runs through my mind. You know, the whole thing about how there was a huge and powerful wind and God was not in the wind and then came an earthquake and God was not in the earthquake, and then there's a fire and God's not in the fire. But then, there is stillness and quiet. And there God is.
The modern world is big on moving and moving fast. Maybe with the price of gas we'll learn more about being still. There must be something to that. After all, if it's been encouraged for thousands of years throughout various religious and cultural backgrounds; how can it be totally wrong?
"KA!" yells the voice. Out the flame goes. Darn it! *sigh* Still learning.
16 May 2008
This Kind of Quiet
I can't even remember his name.
"Hello, is ?? there?"
In a wary tone, "May I ask what this is regarding?" she asks.
She thinks I'm a telemarketer. I know she does.
"Yes, I met ?? at the youth hostel in Seattle and he said he was about to travel to Ireland for two months but to call him afterwards so we could maybe get together."
Silence.
"Hello?"
"I'm so sorry..." Her tone has totally changed. She really does sound sorry.
"...but ?? was hiking with his friend in Ireland. It was really foggy and they hiked off of a cliff. Both of them died."
"Oh!" I say. And then I pause, thinking that this is his mother and that I actually had more recent contact with her son before he died. It seems so wrong. "Oh. Okay, I'm sorry. Good-bye."
The last thing I hear before I hang up is "I'm really sorry. Good-bye."
I haven't thought about that conversation in years. Over a decade even. But it comes to mind as I plead with God to please keep me safe after I've fallen through the snow up to my hips. I've lost the trail and even though there are markings the snow has covered it and I'm going in circles back over and over trying to find the trail.
I fall through again, up to my hip and almost underneath one of the huge fallen Sequoia trees in the forest. I'm alone and I haven't seen anyone for the past 2 hours.
One way brings me to a cliff and the river. The other way to the huge fallen trunks and snow that I keep falling through. Now to my hip, now to my waist. Brambles on the other side. I go back to the marking. Which way is it pointing? I don't see a trail that way at all.
Another prayer leaves my lips as I follow what I think is the trail to the edge of the cliff. No, I'm not falling off to my death. That conversation will not be happening again.
Finally, after covering the area in a grid pattern for about an hour...I find the trail again. This part of Sequoia is so confusing. I have a map, a compass, and trail markers and I still am losing the trail. The light is slowly fading as well and dark will not help me get out of the forest any easier or faster.
Breathe. Remain calm. No, I don't know what time it is, but looking up past these tall, tall, trees I guess at where the sun is hiding. Maybe 4 or is it 6? I started at 10 this morning.
In another hour, I lose the trail again. My head pivots. Look at the markings, look at the trail. Look at the markings, look at what I think is a clear trail...but it's going in the opposite direction of the markings. Which do I follow? At this point I decide to go with my gut and continue to follow the trail. These markings aren't as clear as I'd like them to be. Summer is one thing, but when there's snow on the trail, it's another.
I actually thought the first marker was a warning. Yellow triangle with a tilted tree. "Warning, Falling Trees" or tree branches. I mean they were everywhere. Huge fallen Sequoia trunks. They're so huge they could easily crush a person. It made sense right? But then they started showing up not so tilted. Straight up and down even. After a few more I understood it to be pointing the way to the trail.
There's nothing like taking a long hike in an isolated spot by yourself. It clears your head. Gives you perspective. And every now and again, reminds us of our mortality.
We re-calibrate our worth. Not based on what other people think we're worth, how popular we are, how useful we are to society and the world or how much we are needed. We find our worth from a different place. The center shifts and strips us of all the layers we humans put on things until you've reached the core. To find our worth, as a person doing nothing but hiking in the woods without anyone else nearby.
These huge trees that have lived for generations and generations have cleaned our air and provided shelter for so many now also are the backdrop to the hike that helps to clean my soul.
When I stop there is no sound but the wind rustling the tree branches, the leaves blowing, and the birds twittering. It's been so long since I've heard this kind of quiet. Living in the city, there's always some sort of traffic or neighbor or dumpster diver or helicopter.
As I move slowly back into the presence of people. Tourists just passing in their cars who've taken a short walk. One gentleman has a cell phone earpiece on and is in a 3 piece suit. He's walking back to his shiny luxury car. The kind that looks as if he could limo people around in it but you can tell he's a businessman and not a limo driver.
The quiet from the hike stays within me though. Transforming itself and growing. From experience I know that eventually it will fade. How long depends on life. How long can a person keep this kind of quiet? That's the test. For now, I'm very grateful to be alive, breathing, and going back to the Ranger Station to see if there's a pay shower. Then, as I look forward to the warmth of a clean shower and breathing steam into my lungs, I'm reminded that civilization isn't all bad.
"Hello, is ?? there?"
In a wary tone, "May I ask what this is regarding?" she asks.
She thinks I'm a telemarketer. I know she does.
"Yes, I met ?? at the youth hostel in Seattle and he said he was about to travel to Ireland for two months but to call him afterwards so we could maybe get together."
Silence.
"Hello?"
"I'm so sorry..." Her tone has totally changed. She really does sound sorry.
"...but ?? was hiking with his friend in Ireland. It was really foggy and they hiked off of a cliff. Both of them died."
"Oh!" I say. And then I pause, thinking that this is his mother and that I actually had more recent contact with her son before he died. It seems so wrong. "Oh. Okay, I'm sorry. Good-bye."
The last thing I hear before I hang up is "I'm really sorry. Good-bye."
I haven't thought about that conversation in years. Over a decade even. But it comes to mind as I plead with God to please keep me safe after I've fallen through the snow up to my hips. I've lost the trail and even though there are markings the snow has covered it and I'm going in circles back over and over trying to find the trail.
I fall through again, up to my hip and almost underneath one of the huge fallen Sequoia trees in the forest. I'm alone and I haven't seen anyone for the past 2 hours.
One way brings me to a cliff and the river. The other way to the huge fallen trunks and snow that I keep falling through. Now to my hip, now to my waist. Brambles on the other side. I go back to the marking. Which way is it pointing? I don't see a trail that way at all.
Another prayer leaves my lips as I follow what I think is the trail to the edge of the cliff. No, I'm not falling off to my death. That conversation will not be happening again.
Finally, after covering the area in a grid pattern for about an hour...I find the trail again. This part of Sequoia is so confusing. I have a map, a compass, and trail markers and I still am losing the trail. The light is slowly fading as well and dark will not help me get out of the forest any easier or faster.
Breathe. Remain calm. No, I don't know what time it is, but looking up past these tall, tall, trees I guess at where the sun is hiding. Maybe 4 or is it 6? I started at 10 this morning.
In another hour, I lose the trail again. My head pivots. Look at the markings, look at the trail. Look at the markings, look at what I think is a clear trail...but it's going in the opposite direction of the markings. Which do I follow? At this point I decide to go with my gut and continue to follow the trail. These markings aren't as clear as I'd like them to be. Summer is one thing, but when there's snow on the trail, it's another.
I actually thought the first marker was a warning. Yellow triangle with a tilted tree. "Warning, Falling Trees" or tree branches. I mean they were everywhere. Huge fallen Sequoia trunks. They're so huge they could easily crush a person. It made sense right? But then they started showing up not so tilted. Straight up and down even. After a few more I understood it to be pointing the way to the trail.
There's nothing like taking a long hike in an isolated spot by yourself. It clears your head. Gives you perspective. And every now and again, reminds us of our mortality.
We re-calibrate our worth. Not based on what other people think we're worth, how popular we are, how useful we are to society and the world or how much we are needed. We find our worth from a different place. The center shifts and strips us of all the layers we humans put on things until you've reached the core. To find our worth, as a person doing nothing but hiking in the woods without anyone else nearby.
These huge trees that have lived for generations and generations have cleaned our air and provided shelter for so many now also are the backdrop to the hike that helps to clean my soul.
When I stop there is no sound but the wind rustling the tree branches, the leaves blowing, and the birds twittering. It's been so long since I've heard this kind of quiet. Living in the city, there's always some sort of traffic or neighbor or dumpster diver or helicopter.
As I move slowly back into the presence of people. Tourists just passing in their cars who've taken a short walk. One gentleman has a cell phone earpiece on and is in a 3 piece suit. He's walking back to his shiny luxury car. The kind that looks as if he could limo people around in it but you can tell he's a businessman and not a limo driver.
The quiet from the hike stays within me though. Transforming itself and growing. From experience I know that eventually it will fade. How long depends on life. How long can a person keep this kind of quiet? That's the test. For now, I'm very grateful to be alive, breathing, and going back to the Ranger Station to see if there's a pay shower. Then, as I look forward to the warmth of a clean shower and breathing steam into my lungs, I'm reminded that civilization isn't all bad.
03 May 2008
A Little Joy, A Little Minute, A Little Second...
Not a word has been said. I've told one person today and everyone else only knows because they already knew. It's not on my Facebook. No prompting reminders. It helps to see things a little clearer.
So what's the big deal? No big deal. I'm just one among thousands if not millions who grow another year older today. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Conflicting feelings of mortality and excitement and dread. But then I realize attitude has everything to do with how quality of life plays out even if my quantity is diminishing. And isn't it diminishing for everyone every second that passes?
"Everyone's dying," my friend says.
Yes. That's true. And how ironic that sometimes it's those that have been diagnosed with a terminal illness that then choose to live. Really live. Is that what it takes?
A friend and I talked for an hour on Thursday about how we juggle so many things. She's a mother of two and has a husband, a part time day job and is working on her career as an actor.
We talked about investing energy and time in your spouse first before the children because the energy you put into your relationship with your partner will help with your relationship with your children. But the time and energy you pour into your children can't help with your relationship with your spouse because they're children and they will take as much time and energy as you can dish out. They're helpless.
The funny thing is that we think we should pour the time and energy we have into our children first - before our spouses precisely because they are helpless and our partners aren't.
We talk about these things. The everyday lives we live while we dream of others we could possibly have.
I thought I'd take a break from my everyday life on my birthday and use it as a gift to serve others. Do some community service.
But schedules collided and it's not happening this year. Instead, I am enjoying it by the minute.
No expectations. Just being present in the now. In the second. Enjoying the feeling of typing on a keyboard now. And now. And now.
Little joys have been making my day special today. And it has helped me to realize that I'm learning to enjoy the day in the little things. Be happy where I am in the little moments. Which, in turn, makes me think about the overall picture of life.
What would happen if I did that with life? Enjoyed the everyday life I live instead of waiting to enjoy the dream that I hope is coming? Is it really possible? Maybe. It's a challenge I'm willing to take on today. For this second yes. Tomorrow? Well,I can't decide for tomorrow if I'm really choosing to enjoy this moment by moment. Because...as Scarlet O'Hara said best "Tomorrow is another day."
So what's the big deal? No big deal. I'm just one among thousands if not millions who grow another year older today. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Conflicting feelings of mortality and excitement and dread. But then I realize attitude has everything to do with how quality of life plays out even if my quantity is diminishing. And isn't it diminishing for everyone every second that passes?
"Everyone's dying," my friend says.
Yes. That's true. And how ironic that sometimes it's those that have been diagnosed with a terminal illness that then choose to live. Really live. Is that what it takes?
A friend and I talked for an hour on Thursday about how we juggle so many things. She's a mother of two and has a husband, a part time day job and is working on her career as an actor.
We talked about investing energy and time in your spouse first before the children because the energy you put into your relationship with your partner will help with your relationship with your children. But the time and energy you pour into your children can't help with your relationship with your spouse because they're children and they will take as much time and energy as you can dish out. They're helpless.
The funny thing is that we think we should pour the time and energy we have into our children first - before our spouses precisely because they are helpless and our partners aren't.
We talk about these things. The everyday lives we live while we dream of others we could possibly have.
I thought I'd take a break from my everyday life on my birthday and use it as a gift to serve others. Do some community service.
But schedules collided and it's not happening this year. Instead, I am enjoying it by the minute.
No expectations. Just being present in the now. In the second. Enjoying the feeling of typing on a keyboard now. And now. And now.
Little joys have been making my day special today. And it has helped me to realize that I'm learning to enjoy the day in the little things. Be happy where I am in the little moments. Which, in turn, makes me think about the overall picture of life.
What would happen if I did that with life? Enjoyed the everyday life I live instead of waiting to enjoy the dream that I hope is coming? Is it really possible? Maybe. It's a challenge I'm willing to take on today. For this second yes. Tomorrow? Well,I can't decide for tomorrow if I'm really choosing to enjoy this moment by moment. Because...as Scarlet O'Hara said best "Tomorrow is another day."
06 March 2008
My House is Lopsided
"There are like 9 parts of your life. Job, family, spiritual...and a lot of people have one part take over and they drop the other 8. So if you're in a relationship and that falls apart and you have nothing else - you fall apart. If you have the other 8 parts of your life - you're okay," says my friend as we go for a late night walk.
"Oh, it's like that quote with the house and all it's rooms and everyday you're supposed to visit one of the rooms. Hmmm, my house is lopsided," I reply.
So what do you do when your house is lopsided? Physical, emotional, spiritual, mental and I'm sure you can break it down more, right?
Do I tear down the room to rebuild it? Do I patch it? Do I just take down just enough to rebuild it but leave the foundation that's there? Or do I just visit every day and hope to find a window so the rooms are aired out a bit and start filling the rooms so that they're lived in and the house is balanced?
Can I do it all at once? Or just a room at a time?
I don't know. I know what I want to try but I don't know if it's going to work. So then what?
In an acting class the question, "How do you make a mistake a gift?" came up. I began thinking of how it's a handy thing to know in life too. The challenge of trying to see things in a certain light so it becomes an opportunity instead of something that pulls you down. It's a shift isn't it? How do I shift? Is my house lopsided? Or is it just a chance to see the world at an angle?
A friend brought me to a yoga class. I don't do yoga. Injuries. But it's been awhile so I thought I'd try. Iyengar Yoga wasn't so bad.
At one point the instructor put a brick under my back and said this is going to be uncomfortable. It was. Very. And then she said, "The brick is hard and now you need to soften. Soften around it. It's like life isn't it?
If you don't soften when you come across something hard you'll butt up against it and it'll drive you nuts. So when we come across something hard and uncomfortable we need to soften and it won't be so bad. In fact it can be beneficial."
So then I'm thinking - what does it mean to soften? Not physically, not in situations when you're butting heads with someone, but in situations where you're not balanced. How do you soften?
Maybe I'll find the answer after I enjoy my tilted view of the world in behind one of the dusty doors of my lopsided home. Or maybe I'll just gnaw on a piece of chocolate.
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