I've been redefining my schedule. With kids now fully into the back to school routine, and Dan no longer working at home, I've found myself with some very quiet mornings and a chance to redefine how I approach my day.
What is surprising is just how hard change can be, even for someone like myself who often gets a bit antsy when too many things stay the same for too long. I'm always thinking about painting a room, moving things in my garden, changing things up. Such is the blessing -- and curse -- of being an INTJ..our mantra is, "things can always be better".
I use to laugh at my grandparents when they would take trips. They'd pack up and make a dash for the door only to rush back home so that they could be home before nightfall, so that they could be in their own home. "Why?' I would ask myself. "Why would it be so important just to get back to the same old thing?"
I'm beginning to understand. I find myself having to work hard to find new places to have lunch with new friends and seek out new places to write during my morning and afternoon time that I have now set aside for writing. (Nestled firmly into the routines of work, rest assured.)
Yesterday I drove across town looking for some new stomping grounds. I guess I'm searching for that place that is familar yet different enough each day. I was searching for a different palette, I think, from the same-ness that seems to be rampant in my small corner of the world. The same bland taste of lilly-white-same-ness in the homogeneous white Midwestern part of the world. I feel like I'm drinking flat cola and munching on stale chips. Practically the same, but not altogether pleasing either.
And yet as I settled into my morning cup of coffee at a "new" location, I yearned for the old. The predictability, the sameness, the meager friendliness of the staff at my "home" coffeeshop. Benign neglect is sometimes preferred over outright rudeness.
I strolled some new locations, meeting some new people even running into some old friends. It was all the same and all different and I felt off center, out of balance, out of sync. I couldn't wait to arrive back home in my dishelved office with phone calls to return, tasks to do.
So today, I'm going to try it again. I'm going to force myself to continue finding a new "routine" that will be both stimulating and challenging. The very reason that it is hard prods me on to do it again until it isn't so hard the next time. I don't know where I'm going to go yet. Maybe I won't until I get there.
I know that I'm just too young to be so set in my ways.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Joyce Carol Oates
I'm reading "I'll take you there" by Joyce Carol Oates (http://www.harpercollins.com/authorintro/index.asp?authorid=7275) one of my all time favorite authors.
When I read her stuff I am both amazed and disappointed. Amazed that someone can write with such conviction resonance. Disappointed that I think "can I ever, ever write like that?"
I find myself also wondering, "how many pages did she write to get that one great scene? how many times did her editor say, 'again and again'? did she ever suffer from fear of writing someting that seemed too close to her, too personal?"
Reading a book by Joyce Carol Oates is for me like drinking a long, tall glass of water. It both refreshes and renews. She's on my "would love to meet in this lifetime" list.
When I read her stuff I am both amazed and disappointed. Amazed that someone can write with such conviction resonance. Disappointed that I think "can I ever, ever write like that?"
I find myself also wondering, "how many pages did she write to get that one great scene? how many times did her editor say, 'again and again'? did she ever suffer from fear of writing someting that seemed too close to her, too personal?"
Reading a book by Joyce Carol Oates is for me like drinking a long, tall glass of water. It both refreshes and renews. She's on my "would love to meet in this lifetime" list.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Broken Flowers
If you like happy endings -- or at least endings that are resolved, crisp and finished, make no plans to go see the new movie by Jim Jarmusch, "Broken Flowers"(http://www.brokenflowersmovie.com/home.html) starring Bill Murray.
On the other hand, if you enjoy watching a movie that requires thought and attention to detail, then don't walk, run to see this.
Not a movie for the MTV generation. Not a lot of action or skin or even a lot of dialogue. Ain't it cool?
In fact, most of those in the crowd in which I was viewing this movie with - we were down in the lower part of the theater with "Dukes of Hazzard" still queing up lines and lines and lines of those 25 years and under--- stomped out of the movie quizzically. Some were even angry. One guy even commented, "8 bucks for that?"
Maybe we're too focused on seeing movies that figure it all out for us and leave us with a finished ending. But Bill Murray's last two films, including "Lost in Translation" have a lot to tell us about the unfinished business of mid-life and aging. That is, there is a lot left to be discovered.
For me personally, I loved the layering of dialogue, visuals and cinematography that create the story for me to unwrap and delight in. I loved that Bill Murray's character doesn't act as much as he reacts to life and all that it has given him. I loved mostly that I left the theater trying to figure out all the clues and if I got them all or not.
What I figured out (what I think!) is that the 5 women in the movie represent the 5 decades of a man's life (50 years, which I imagine is what the age of the character placed by Murray). Sexual conquest, intellectual pursuit, partying and rocking, drugs and love, and of course, death, which conquers us all. Don Johnston/Don Juan/Don Jonson -- itself a comment on a man's life -- illustrates a man's life lived for all the things that create a sense of completeness, but at the end it is his shell of a life that creates the chaotic pain in which we see Murray's character. I'm not much of a philosopher but that's my report, Sherlock. (see the movie to understand this line.)
There are some amazing one-liners delivered by Murray that are gems. Unfortunately, most of them are given away in the Trailer so that when you see them in the film they lack the punch they could have had.
Still, I'd recommend "Broken Flowers" to my artsy friends. For all the others, there's always Dukes of Hazzard. Sadly, there seems to be few in-between choices.
On the other hand, if you enjoy watching a movie that requires thought and attention to detail, then don't walk, run to see this.
Not a movie for the MTV generation. Not a lot of action or skin or even a lot of dialogue. Ain't it cool?
In fact, most of those in the crowd in which I was viewing this movie with - we were down in the lower part of the theater with "Dukes of Hazzard" still queing up lines and lines and lines of those 25 years and under--- stomped out of the movie quizzically. Some were even angry. One guy even commented, "8 bucks for that?"
Maybe we're too focused on seeing movies that figure it all out for us and leave us with a finished ending. But Bill Murray's last two films, including "Lost in Translation" have a lot to tell us about the unfinished business of mid-life and aging. That is, there is a lot left to be discovered.
For me personally, I loved the layering of dialogue, visuals and cinematography that create the story for me to unwrap and delight in. I loved that Bill Murray's character doesn't act as much as he reacts to life and all that it has given him. I loved mostly that I left the theater trying to figure out all the clues and if I got them all or not.
What I figured out (what I think!) is that the 5 women in the movie represent the 5 decades of a man's life (50 years, which I imagine is what the age of the character placed by Murray). Sexual conquest, intellectual pursuit, partying and rocking, drugs and love, and of course, death, which conquers us all. Don Johnston/Don Juan/Don Jonson -- itself a comment on a man's life -- illustrates a man's life lived for all the things that create a sense of completeness, but at the end it is his shell of a life that creates the chaotic pain in which we see Murray's character. I'm not much of a philosopher but that's my report, Sherlock. (see the movie to understand this line.)
There are some amazing one-liners delivered by Murray that are gems. Unfortunately, most of them are given away in the Trailer so that when you see them in the film they lack the punch they could have had.
Still, I'd recommend "Broken Flowers" to my artsy friends. For all the others, there's always Dukes of Hazzard. Sadly, there seems to be few in-between choices.
Trading Spaces
I drove past my old house the other day.
I drove past really slow to see if I could see the landscaping that I had done with the kids when we lived there. I slowed down almost to a stop and even considered peering into the kitchen to see if the same color that I had painted (red) was still there or not.
Sometimes, I think about old places that I've lived and I wonder about them. Is there still pieces of me left there, strewn all about, waiting for me to come back and retrieve them?
Moving is a big job. Not so much the physical aspect but the emotional as well. For awhile you don't live anyplace. You have parts of a life in one place and parts of a life someplace else. For a while you live fluidly, unconnected, strewn apart.
It's sometimes nice to consider where I lived and why and what I was doing when I lived there. How old were the kids? What did we do for dinner? Where was the furniture placed? Where we live molds our lives as much as anything. Molds our thoughts, too.
Not one time have I ever considered moving back to where I have come. Not one time have I ever thought, "wow, I'd really like to move back there". Not once. Even though the memories and the times shared were good ones, I'm most glad to be here, now, wherever this place "is".
I think that transitions teach us that we move forward into the unknown with a certain amount of gratitude that we're at least moving towards something, away from something that we once were.
But sometimes, there are situations and people that want us to stay in our old 'houses'. They might even want to drive us to the door and say, "get out and live here NOW!" I've had that sense at times with relationships and others...that their version of the past was so important that they wouldn't allow themselves -- or anybody else -- to move on.
To those situations and people, I am learning to say, "I don't live here anymore. You can stay here and we might can revisit these times, but I don't live here anymore. I'm moving onward."
I'm learning there is great freedom in that ability...to simply say, "No, I don't know the future as well as the past but I know that I don't live there anymore." Sometimes it allows others to move forward. Sometimes it makes them put down roots even more strongly.
It doesn't matter. What is important is that the journey forward begins and continues.
That was then, this is now. And I don't live there anymore.
I drove past really slow to see if I could see the landscaping that I had done with the kids when we lived there. I slowed down almost to a stop and even considered peering into the kitchen to see if the same color that I had painted (red) was still there or not.
Sometimes, I think about old places that I've lived and I wonder about them. Is there still pieces of me left there, strewn all about, waiting for me to come back and retrieve them?
Moving is a big job. Not so much the physical aspect but the emotional as well. For awhile you don't live anyplace. You have parts of a life in one place and parts of a life someplace else. For a while you live fluidly, unconnected, strewn apart.
It's sometimes nice to consider where I lived and why and what I was doing when I lived there. How old were the kids? What did we do for dinner? Where was the furniture placed? Where we live molds our lives as much as anything. Molds our thoughts, too.
Not one time have I ever considered moving back to where I have come. Not one time have I ever thought, "wow, I'd really like to move back there". Not once. Even though the memories and the times shared were good ones, I'm most glad to be here, now, wherever this place "is".
I think that transitions teach us that we move forward into the unknown with a certain amount of gratitude that we're at least moving towards something, away from something that we once were.
But sometimes, there are situations and people that want us to stay in our old 'houses'. They might even want to drive us to the door and say, "get out and live here NOW!" I've had that sense at times with relationships and others...that their version of the past was so important that they wouldn't allow themselves -- or anybody else -- to move on.
To those situations and people, I am learning to say, "I don't live here anymore. You can stay here and we might can revisit these times, but I don't live here anymore. I'm moving onward."
I'm learning there is great freedom in that ability...to simply say, "No, I don't know the future as well as the past but I know that I don't live there anymore." Sometimes it allows others to move forward. Sometimes it makes them put down roots even more strongly.
It doesn't matter. What is important is that the journey forward begins and continues.
That was then, this is now. And I don't live there anymore.
Comedy Night (repeat)
I spent Friday Night doing what I love -- working in my yard and watching great comedy. Only, Comedy Central saw fit to rerun one of my favorites and then spend the rest of Holy Time (the time on Friday that is usually reserved for great stand up at Comedy Central) by filling time with South Park. I don't get those little stupid cartoons. I guess I'm not evolved enough or something but they can never, ever, take the place of great creative stand up.
So I got to watch one of my all-time favorites Adam Ferrara (www.adamferrara.com) do his bit. I've seen it probably 20 times but I love it..he always makes me laugh. I love it that he can make me laugh about potpourri ("it's a bucket of mulch, lady!) and hanging pictures. Anyboy can go for shock value...Adam uses everyday things and makes me look at them in new ways which is what I love about great comedy...if it can make you laugh at your life, and mostly at yourself, then it's done its job.
As for Comedy Central, here's a tip -- if I don't get my stand up back on Friday's, things could get really ugly. Some of us comedy-addicts need our weekly fix of funny people like others might need drugs or liquor. So I'm warning you, take off the dorky kids and let the deranged humor of real people rule.
So I got to watch one of my all-time favorites Adam Ferrara (www.adamferrara.com) do his bit. I've seen it probably 20 times but I love it..he always makes me laugh. I love it that he can make me laugh about potpourri ("it's a bucket of mulch, lady!) and hanging pictures. Anyboy can go for shock value...Adam uses everyday things and makes me look at them in new ways which is what I love about great comedy...if it can make you laugh at your life, and mostly at yourself, then it's done its job.
As for Comedy Central, here's a tip -- if I don't get my stand up back on Friday's, things could get really ugly. Some of us comedy-addicts need our weekly fix of funny people like others might need drugs or liquor. So I'm warning you, take off the dorky kids and let the deranged humor of real people rule.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Take a picture
I want to hurry and write this down before I forget. I want to remember these moments before they slip through my fingers.
I want to remember that it is 7:05 and the sun is still warm. I want to remember the steamy mist off the bermuda from rains that came (finally!). I want to remember the cat lolling on the driveway, rolling, then turning. And the dog, Princess, anxiously walking from Ellen and then to Nathan and back again. Princess always can tell when something is up.
I will remember Ellen, her long hair pulled back, new chocker necklace displayed, striped shirt, so pretty. I will remember Nathan, strumming his guitar for a brief minutes, singing in that voice of his, the one that he has used since he was just a small boy. Now its deeper, huskier, a teenager's wistfulness coming through.
I will remember Eggo waffles, with syrup and peanut butter and white, cold milk. I will remember the too-sugary smell that threatens my already jumpy stomach.
I'll remember the faces of my children, excited but pensive, wondering what this new day -- this new year -- will bring them. One more chapter in their short lives already being written, already being etched into their memory.
There are moments as a parent that you have to wonder, "can I do this? Can I nurture another human being through the ups and downs of keyboards and braces, first days of school, breakups with girlfriends? Can I hold their hands when the fever spikes and the friends don't call? Can I celebrate the 3-point shot along with the goal that was great, but just a little too late?
Being a parent is allowing another human to take up residence in your life, forever altering your view of the world and showing them yours, knowing full well that they may take your view of life and keep it, discard it but in all liklihood change it. Its making yourself open and vulnerable to your own faulty ideas about love and life. Its having your own life rewritten each day by the questions and thoughts of another, while you struggle with answers that you thought you had figured out.
Parenting is, most of all, a path that you take to give life to another while redefining your own. It is all at once giving everything you thought you had, only to discover that in the giving you've grown more, lived more, loved more than you ever thought possible.
I will remember my kids today as they drove away, resolute and happy as they embraced a new year of their lives. I stood at the top of the driveway a little too long, tears forming as I knew they would -- as they no doubt knew and even counted on. I will remember Nathan saying, "Hey Mom, it's the first day of my SENIOR YEAR!" and his smile when he saw the tears coming. Isn't it every kid's longing to simply matter to their parents? To know they'll be missed terribly while at the same time knowing their parents will probably catch a few more minutes of sleep, go on with their day, be OK, even relieved a bit?
These are the moments, the pauses in the symphony of life lived with others, that we know that the rhythms of our lives are in sync and in step. That despite the colic, the worry, the questions and the concern, the harmony of lives lived together hits that resonant chord..."this is how it is suppose to be."
I will remember this moment, along with all the others, and cherish it forever.
I want to remember that it is 7:05 and the sun is still warm. I want to remember the steamy mist off the bermuda from rains that came (finally!). I want to remember the cat lolling on the driveway, rolling, then turning. And the dog, Princess, anxiously walking from Ellen and then to Nathan and back again. Princess always can tell when something is up.
I will remember Ellen, her long hair pulled back, new chocker necklace displayed, striped shirt, so pretty. I will remember Nathan, strumming his guitar for a brief minutes, singing in that voice of his, the one that he has used since he was just a small boy. Now its deeper, huskier, a teenager's wistfulness coming through.
I will remember Eggo waffles, with syrup and peanut butter and white, cold milk. I will remember the too-sugary smell that threatens my already jumpy stomach.
I'll remember the faces of my children, excited but pensive, wondering what this new day -- this new year -- will bring them. One more chapter in their short lives already being written, already being etched into their memory.
There are moments as a parent that you have to wonder, "can I do this? Can I nurture another human being through the ups and downs of keyboards and braces, first days of school, breakups with girlfriends? Can I hold their hands when the fever spikes and the friends don't call? Can I celebrate the 3-point shot along with the goal that was great, but just a little too late?
Being a parent is allowing another human to take up residence in your life, forever altering your view of the world and showing them yours, knowing full well that they may take your view of life and keep it, discard it but in all liklihood change it. Its making yourself open and vulnerable to your own faulty ideas about love and life. Its having your own life rewritten each day by the questions and thoughts of another, while you struggle with answers that you thought you had figured out.
Parenting is, most of all, a path that you take to give life to another while redefining your own. It is all at once giving everything you thought you had, only to discover that in the giving you've grown more, lived more, loved more than you ever thought possible.
I will remember my kids today as they drove away, resolute and happy as they embraced a new year of their lives. I stood at the top of the driveway a little too long, tears forming as I knew they would -- as they no doubt knew and even counted on. I will remember Nathan saying, "Hey Mom, it's the first day of my SENIOR YEAR!" and his smile when he saw the tears coming. Isn't it every kid's longing to simply matter to their parents? To know they'll be missed terribly while at the same time knowing their parents will probably catch a few more minutes of sleep, go on with their day, be OK, even relieved a bit?
These are the moments, the pauses in the symphony of life lived with others, that we know that the rhythms of our lives are in sync and in step. That despite the colic, the worry, the questions and the concern, the harmony of lives lived together hits that resonant chord..."this is how it is suppose to be."
I will remember this moment, along with all the others, and cherish it forever.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Writing is a lot like life -- most of it is bad copy
http://www.courant.com/features/lifestyle/hc-gina0815.artaug15,0,4793580.column?&track=rss
This article is so good and so reassuring to people like me who are trying to find their way in the writing "world". What resonates with me in this article is how much writing is like so many other things. For example, if I were asked the same questions about why I do what I do for my "day job" I'd give very similar answers. Writing is a discipline, an art, something that has to be crafted every day.
This article is so good and so reassuring to people like me who are trying to find their way in the writing "world". What resonates with me in this article is how much writing is like so many other things. For example, if I were asked the same questions about why I do what I do for my "day job" I'd give very similar answers. Writing is a discipline, an art, something that has to be crafted every day.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Great quote on the Art Life
“As Stanley Kunitz once commented, “The poem in the head is always perfect. Resistance begins when you try to convert it into language.” And it’s true, most artists don’t daydream about making great art—they daydream about having made great art. What artist has not experienced the feverish euphoria of composing the perfect thumbnail sketch, first draft, negative or melody, only to run headlong into a stone wall trying to convert that tantalizing hint into the finished mural, novel, photograph, sonata? The artist’s life is frustrating not because the passage is slow, but because he imagines it to be fast.”
By David Bayles & Ted Orland
From "Art and Fear".
By David Bayles & Ted Orland
From "Art and Fear".
Monday, August 15, 2005
Great new life mantra
This came from some discussions at our new church -- I really like it:
God is Good
People are Wierd
Love with Abandon
.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Movie to see: "Beautiful Country"
Attention to detail, irony and compassion, beauty and human fraility all mix together to create the film, "Beautiful Country" http://www.sonyclassics.com/beautifulcountry/frame.html
It's not going to get major kudos from hollywood elite, nor will it garnish praise from reviewers. But a good story -- along with a director with an eye for what makes a scene "sing" -- will always win my praise.
I think what makes this story so compelling is that it touches a central core that is so deeply engrained in all of us -- the search for self, knowing where one is and where one is going. Those issues are only answered when we know in some part from where we have come.
What I sincerely appreciated about the film is that it was both beautiful and deeply true to its characters. The actors look and act like real people...I am not reminded that I'm "watching a scene". I also appreciate that each character has a heady mix of good and bad, beauty and ugliness, hope and hopelessness. This is a film that resonates and rings true.
It's not going to get major kudos from hollywood elite, nor will it garnish praise from reviewers. But a good story -- along with a director with an eye for what makes a scene "sing" -- will always win my praise.
I think what makes this story so compelling is that it touches a central core that is so deeply engrained in all of us -- the search for self, knowing where one is and where one is going. Those issues are only answered when we know in some part from where we have come.
What I sincerely appreciated about the film is that it was both beautiful and deeply true to its characters. The actors look and act like real people...I am not reminded that I'm "watching a scene". I also appreciate that each character has a heady mix of good and bad, beauty and ugliness, hope and hopelessness. This is a film that resonates and rings true.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Gardner's Journal: The Mundane
Now is the time of the year when all the "un-glamorous" chores have to be done. Weeds have overcome some of my garden so I spend about 30 minutes in a.m./p.m. digging them out, swearing all along that I meant to plant something there. Nature truly does hate a vacuum and what's not planted upon or in, will surely be rabid with Oklahoma's finest bermuda.
August heat is zapping a good part of my yard but perennials and roses are thriving with regular watering because of the energy saving mulch. It's a pain to do, but it sure makes for easier gardening during these hot, hot months.
Overall, I'm pleased with my garden this year. I will plant some additional shrubs and trees in late October and November and I'll put some mums out in some of these places that are sporting weeds right now. I did at least 3 new gardens this year and have plans for additional ones later in the fall. The more "fun" work of digging, planting and creating.
Still, I have to ponder this mundane maintainance. It's truly the biggest part of gardening...not all can be creating and digging and plunging into the earth. In fact, that part of the job -- though exciting and fulfilling -- is a very small part of the gardening experience. Without the mulching, the watering, the weeding the is little of gardening left. Those that don't enjoy these humble chores truly don't enjoy gardening. It's the stuff that makes gardening gardening.
And, it is revealing how much I can get done in 20 minutes blocks of time when I really put my heart into it. Sometimes, the sheer volume of work can be overwhelming. I stand in the middle of a puddle of weeds and sigh, not sure where to begin. The truth is, you begin where you are. You kneel and go to it. And after a few minutes, maybe 20, you've made some serious progess.
This simple reality is remarkable. What can seem to be too big can truly be done in smaller bites. Paying off bills. Remodeling a house. Rebuilding a relationship. It's not the big stuff that really matters -- it's the day to day stuff that seems to hold things together, keep the moving, keeping them healthy.
August heat is zapping a good part of my yard but perennials and roses are thriving with regular watering because of the energy saving mulch. It's a pain to do, but it sure makes for easier gardening during these hot, hot months.
Overall, I'm pleased with my garden this year. I will plant some additional shrubs and trees in late October and November and I'll put some mums out in some of these places that are sporting weeds right now. I did at least 3 new gardens this year and have plans for additional ones later in the fall. The more "fun" work of digging, planting and creating.
Still, I have to ponder this mundane maintainance. It's truly the biggest part of gardening...not all can be creating and digging and plunging into the earth. In fact, that part of the job -- though exciting and fulfilling -- is a very small part of the gardening experience. Without the mulching, the watering, the weeding the is little of gardening left. Those that don't enjoy these humble chores truly don't enjoy gardening. It's the stuff that makes gardening gardening.
And, it is revealing how much I can get done in 20 minutes blocks of time when I really put my heart into it. Sometimes, the sheer volume of work can be overwhelming. I stand in the middle of a puddle of weeds and sigh, not sure where to begin. The truth is, you begin where you are. You kneel and go to it. And after a few minutes, maybe 20, you've made some serious progess.
This simple reality is remarkable. What can seem to be too big can truly be done in smaller bites. Paying off bills. Remodeling a house. Rebuilding a relationship. It's not the big stuff that really matters -- it's the day to day stuff that seems to hold things together, keep the moving, keeping them healthy.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Peter Jennings -- I'll miss you
I just learned that Peter Jennings, one of my all time favorite television personalities died today. Here's the whole story --
ABC News Anchor Peter Jennings Dies at 67
I have often punctuated my day by being near the TV at 5:30 just so Peter can give me, as he calls it, a "rough draft of history" for the day. There was something curiously comforting about his style that no other anchor I can recall. He was dashingly handsome, winsome in his ways and just plain street smart. I didn't know until today that he started broadcasting without a degree in high school or college. Yet, he has said that every day in his adult life he learned something and for that, I love him. That quality, his ability to search and ask questions, gave him the resonance on the air that book smart anchors lacked.
He was the one I turned to during national crisis, his reporting during Sept 11 was particularly reassuring to me because I knew that whatever he knew, he'd tell me. He was always someone that I would have enjoyed simply sitting down with a cup of coffee and talking about ideas.
ABC News Anchor Peter Jennings Dies at 67
I have often punctuated my day by being near the TV at 5:30 just so Peter can give me, as he calls it, a "rough draft of history" for the day. There was something curiously comforting about his style that no other anchor I can recall. He was dashingly handsome, winsome in his ways and just plain street smart. I didn't know until today that he started broadcasting without a degree in high school or college. Yet, he has said that every day in his adult life he learned something and for that, I love him. That quality, his ability to search and ask questions, gave him the resonance on the air that book smart anchors lacked.
He was the one I turned to during national crisis, his reporting during Sept 11 was particularly reassuring to me because I knew that whatever he knew, he'd tell me. He was always someone that I would have enjoyed simply sitting down with a cup of coffee and talking about ideas.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Wonderbras, High Heels and Second Chance Gods
I just finished my once a year shopping trek. I have this theory that the reason God made the internet was for people like me who truly truly dislike the entire shopping experience. The parking of the car, the walking through over-full department stores, too-cheerful sales associates and most, most , most of all the dreaded fitting room.
I have arrived at that station in life when I can no longer deny the importance of a good fit and the wonderful affects of good underthings. As I now rapidly approach that amazing period of one's life that is so affectionally called "mid-life", I find that I pay more attention to garments and what they hide or change than I do about color or style.
My children, who usually accompany me (much to their dismay) on these fated trips are armed with the "Frump-O-Meter"...which is a sliding scale that determines how "frumpy" a garment or outfit may make me look. A "10" on this scale means I look like my mom on a bad hair day and a "1" means that I look like I could pass for a mere 35.
It wasn't always this way. I was once a care-free shopper and could, quite literally, but something right off that size 2 mannequin and wear it and look great. Now, I walk by those same mannequins and wonder what their mothers would think about their daughters showing off all that, uhm, plastic. I use to be able to shop for shoes with careless abandon, reveling in how high the heels were. Now, heels more than 1 inch threaten my balance in such ways that I fear for those standing around me. The "Frump-o-meter" is tough in this shopping category. It's just hard to imagine feeling beautiful in no-nonesense navy naturalizers, no?
The sales people don't help at all. I have recently left a "boutique" (translation: no sizes under 12 need shop here) in tears because nothing would fit. The stretchy halter dress that looked so adorable on the model rendered me a pear with a black rubberband stretched across its middle. It was too ugly to even contemplate leaving the dressing room. When I asked the sales person (who was a cute little size 6 at most) about the sizing of the dress, she replied, "A different style might be more forgiving." Which begs the question, "For what am I being forgiven and why?"
I think, though, there are other things at play here. Deeper things, more sinister things. I think for all this energy in trying to look young, I am really trying to make do. Make my life something it is not, make myself something that I am not anymore. I am no longer 21, thin as a rail with my life ahead of me. And with that realization comes more than a bit of regret. Regrets of roads not taken, regrets of roads that were. Perhaps the greatest understanding is that no one -- NO ONE -- gets to 41 plus and says, "wow, my life is perfect and I wouldn't change a thing".
I've been contemplating these life changes for some time, reading lots from those that are way more intelligent than I and have come up with little on the philosophy of life. In fact, I have come up with little on life at all. Which is the trouble -- what kind of philosophy is it if it is only good for the first half of one's life? If ever there is a time for a "do-over" a re-take or just a good old-fashion DELETE, it is at this stage of one's life. Did I really take the teaching option instead of the literature courses? Why didn't I travel to Spain with the Spanish Club when I had the chance? Why did I care so much about getting through college instead of just immersing myself in the experience of learning?
I find myself thinking a good deal about God these days. I wonder if He thinks of me. It's doubtful..what am I to Him? Why would I even register to Him with all the holy rollers doing all that good work out there? Moreoever, why would he care two figs about my life when there are far greater situations in the world. I'm no world traveler but one doesn't have to go far to be rendered speechless by the sheer luck that one has been born into by being a citizen of the US. I don't have stuff in my water. I don't have machine guns posted in my community. I don't have to cover my face with a cloth. I can write whatever I please here on this blog and all I'll get is benign neglect or a random curt commetn or two. Not like I'm taking my life into my own hands like in some countries.
I think I would like to get to know a "second-chance God". Y'know, someone that's been there with you and knows that you really don't do your ab crunches like you should. Someone that knows that secretly, you'd rather watch another re-run of "Law and Order" than go have quality time with your husband. I'd like to sit down and talk to a God who knew you in high-school and yet finds you remarkably more interesting now. I'd like to know a God who remembers the mess you've made of your life and saves the finger pointing. I'd like to get closer to a God that just celebrates when you make it out of bed to church instead of the one that I think I know more, which is the one that scowls because your twenty-minutes late.
If there is ever a time in one's life where a second chance is in order, it's now. It's here. I don't need a litany of the sins I've committed, I've got those engraved into the crevices of my soul. I don't need a checklist of the things that I've NOT gotten around to do, the weariness in my day reminds me all too quickly of that. And most of all, a second chance God wouldn't encourage me to "keep the faith for the sweet by and by". Y'know, I'm running out of time and I just might not make the sweet by and by. Whatcha got for me now? For here? For today? Tell me how to pay the mortage, get the kids to school, find dinner and some peace.
I left the mall with my meager purchases. Shopping use to bring such pleasure and fun. The cruel trick in life is that when you do finally have the funds to buy what you want, you realize what you want isn't in the store, on the mannequin or in the window.
I have arrived at that station in life when I can no longer deny the importance of a good fit and the wonderful affects of good underthings. As I now rapidly approach that amazing period of one's life that is so affectionally called "mid-life", I find that I pay more attention to garments and what they hide or change than I do about color or style.
My children, who usually accompany me (much to their dismay) on these fated trips are armed with the "Frump-O-Meter"...which is a sliding scale that determines how "frumpy" a garment or outfit may make me look. A "10" on this scale means I look like my mom on a bad hair day and a "1" means that I look like I could pass for a mere 35.
It wasn't always this way. I was once a care-free shopper and could, quite literally, but something right off that size 2 mannequin and wear it and look great. Now, I walk by those same mannequins and wonder what their mothers would think about their daughters showing off all that, uhm, plastic. I use to be able to shop for shoes with careless abandon, reveling in how high the heels were. Now, heels more than 1 inch threaten my balance in such ways that I fear for those standing around me. The "Frump-o-meter" is tough in this shopping category. It's just hard to imagine feeling beautiful in no-nonesense navy naturalizers, no?
The sales people don't help at all. I have recently left a "boutique" (translation: no sizes under 12 need shop here) in tears because nothing would fit. The stretchy halter dress that looked so adorable on the model rendered me a pear with a black rubberband stretched across its middle. It was too ugly to even contemplate leaving the dressing room. When I asked the sales person (who was a cute little size 6 at most) about the sizing of the dress, she replied, "A different style might be more forgiving." Which begs the question, "For what am I being forgiven and why?"
I think, though, there are other things at play here. Deeper things, more sinister things. I think for all this energy in trying to look young, I am really trying to make do. Make my life something it is not, make myself something that I am not anymore. I am no longer 21, thin as a rail with my life ahead of me. And with that realization comes more than a bit of regret. Regrets of roads not taken, regrets of roads that were. Perhaps the greatest understanding is that no one -- NO ONE -- gets to 41 plus and says, "wow, my life is perfect and I wouldn't change a thing".
I've been contemplating these life changes for some time, reading lots from those that are way more intelligent than I and have come up with little on the philosophy of life. In fact, I have come up with little on life at all. Which is the trouble -- what kind of philosophy is it if it is only good for the first half of one's life? If ever there is a time for a "do-over" a re-take or just a good old-fashion DELETE, it is at this stage of one's life. Did I really take the teaching option instead of the literature courses? Why didn't I travel to Spain with the Spanish Club when I had the chance? Why did I care so much about getting through college instead of just immersing myself in the experience of learning?
I find myself thinking a good deal about God these days. I wonder if He thinks of me. It's doubtful..what am I to Him? Why would I even register to Him with all the holy rollers doing all that good work out there? Moreoever, why would he care two figs about my life when there are far greater situations in the world. I'm no world traveler but one doesn't have to go far to be rendered speechless by the sheer luck that one has been born into by being a citizen of the US. I don't have stuff in my water. I don't have machine guns posted in my community. I don't have to cover my face with a cloth. I can write whatever I please here on this blog and all I'll get is benign neglect or a random curt commetn or two. Not like I'm taking my life into my own hands like in some countries.
I think I would like to get to know a "second-chance God". Y'know, someone that's been there with you and knows that you really don't do your ab crunches like you should. Someone that knows that secretly, you'd rather watch another re-run of "Law and Order" than go have quality time with your husband. I'd like to sit down and talk to a God who knew you in high-school and yet finds you remarkably more interesting now. I'd like to know a God who remembers the mess you've made of your life and saves the finger pointing. I'd like to get closer to a God that just celebrates when you make it out of bed to church instead of the one that I think I know more, which is the one that scowls because your twenty-minutes late.
If there is ever a time in one's life where a second chance is in order, it's now. It's here. I don't need a litany of the sins I've committed, I've got those engraved into the crevices of my soul. I don't need a checklist of the things that I've NOT gotten around to do, the weariness in my day reminds me all too quickly of that. And most of all, a second chance God wouldn't encourage me to "keep the faith for the sweet by and by". Y'know, I'm running out of time and I just might not make the sweet by and by. Whatcha got for me now? For here? For today? Tell me how to pay the mortage, get the kids to school, find dinner and some peace.
I left the mall with my meager purchases. Shopping use to bring such pleasure and fun. The cruel trick in life is that when you do finally have the funds to buy what you want, you realize what you want isn't in the store, on the mannequin or in the window.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
I'm more than thrilled
I just found out that an essay that I wrote will be used by the editor of www.VallartaToday.com
both for hard copy as well as for online.
Can I be completely honest -- I am more than excited! I feel like I just found out there was a Santa Clause or something like that. It's not the first essay to be published, but it certainly is the first one that is really meaningful to me. The essay actually is here at my blog under a different title (and probably not the revised, revised, revised version.)
This essay was a collaboration with me and my editor (www.jordansmuse.com) and I have to say her favorite word is REVISE. She is challenging me to go a lot deeper in my writing and it is both exciting and terrifying. Writing connects me to my deepest self and sometimes those things aren't that attractive. A great editor draws the beauty out of raw emotions and tattered ideas to create something like a mosaic -- lots of broken pieces put together in ways that are complete...not perfect, but complete. More whole because of the brokenness.
I now have a regular writing time each day along with a desktop full of folders, essays, ideas...all of these things have been rummaging around in my head for years, collecting dust and cluttering up the place. Writing brings order -- and meaning to my life. My life has been so profoundly influenced by great writers and books that being able to write something that is meaningful is a supreme privilege.
I feel extremely fortunate at this moment...hope there are more like it.
both for hard copy as well as for online.
Can I be completely honest -- I am more than excited! I feel like I just found out there was a Santa Clause or something like that. It's not the first essay to be published, but it certainly is the first one that is really meaningful to me. The essay actually is here at my blog under a different title (and probably not the revised, revised, revised version.)
This essay was a collaboration with me and my editor (www.jordansmuse.com) and I have to say her favorite word is REVISE. She is challenging me to go a lot deeper in my writing and it is both exciting and terrifying. Writing connects me to my deepest self and sometimes those things aren't that attractive. A great editor draws the beauty out of raw emotions and tattered ideas to create something like a mosaic -- lots of broken pieces put together in ways that are complete...not perfect, but complete. More whole because of the brokenness.
I now have a regular writing time each day along with a desktop full of folders, essays, ideas...all of these things have been rummaging around in my head for years, collecting dust and cluttering up the place. Writing brings order -- and meaning to my life. My life has been so profoundly influenced by great writers and books that being able to write something that is meaningful is a supreme privilege.
I feel extremely fortunate at this moment...hope there are more like it.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Hustle and Flow
http://www.hustleandflow.com/
One of the few summer movies with real soul. If you're in the mood for a gritty experience, head to your local theater and strap yourself in for a great ride.
What I like about this movie is simple and straightforward...it has a great story and that story is well conveyed through moving performances from the cast. I actually cared about the characters because of the script...it wasn't obvious where the story was going, so I actually had to think -- something that most movies don't ask me to do. Always nice to be respected when you lay down $6 or more for a movie.
Since I'm not a huge rap fan, nor am I that familiar with Memphis, TN and no, I'm not black...but despite all this, the movie was able to communicate and resonate with me, which means that someone somewhere cared enough about the writing and allowed a great story to emerge. Wouldn't it be great if more movies could do that?
The best scene in the movie for me is when DJay is in the church and he is deeply moved by the music -- music that isn't his "own" but it speaks to him from deep within.
One of the few summer movies with real soul. If you're in the mood for a gritty experience, head to your local theater and strap yourself in for a great ride.
What I like about this movie is simple and straightforward...it has a great story and that story is well conveyed through moving performances from the cast. I actually cared about the characters because of the script...it wasn't obvious where the story was going, so I actually had to think -- something that most movies don't ask me to do. Always nice to be respected when you lay down $6 or more for a movie.
Since I'm not a huge rap fan, nor am I that familiar with Memphis, TN and no, I'm not black...but despite all this, the movie was able to communicate and resonate with me, which means that someone somewhere cared enough about the writing and allowed a great story to emerge. Wouldn't it be great if more movies could do that?
The best scene in the movie for me is when DJay is in the church and he is deeply moved by the music -- music that isn't his "own" but it speaks to him from deep within.
New quote source
Check out www.thinkexist.com
a really great source for finding quotes...or just read to be inspired. This site allows you to create your own "quote book" for use, create an e-card to send to others or even comment with others who enjoy quotes.
a really great source for finding quotes...or just read to be inspired. This site allows you to create your own "quote book" for use, create an e-card to send to others or even comment with others who enjoy quotes.
Friday, July 22, 2005
On my reading shelf
I've been writing and reading a good deal lately, including writing a lot of creative works for work (more tech stuff). Here's what I'm reading this week:
Writing Creative Nonfiction (Edited by Carolyn Forche and Philip Gerard)...so far awesome...great fodder for writing.
Handbook of English Grammar and Usage (OK, I'm not really reading it, my mentor/editor "suggested" that I have it nearby...seems I keep getting my verb tenses screwy...or is that "screwed"? Either way...I am.)
"The Leadership Challenge" (Kouzes Posner) positively the best resource on digging deep into the experience of building and developing people...I have the journal and the workbook. Not for the faint of heart, a mere 500 pages of reading...take your time.
This week, I've written and almost finished AND even started the submission process with one of my essays..and I've started the biggest part of my speech for an upcoming conference. There are moments when the disparate streams of my life join and the rush of the momentum is truly a spiritual moment...things all make sense, even if my verb tense does not (do not????? AUGHHHHH).
All this to say that the one thing I will take a sword for here in my 41st year -- my creative life has to be nourished...i have set up a daily writing time and actually kept with it during a hectic "back at work" week, I have a new place to write so that I can drink/eat a little while I'm at it. I am no longer willing to postpone the time I spend creating...I am happiest when I'm in the throes of new ideas and new thoughts -- reading, writing, thinking. It is the time in which I'm happiest and I love the new people that are helping me create that part of my life more fully. I'd probably starve if I wrote for a living, but I'll starve in another way if I don't...so who knows where this will take me...right now, it's just good to finally get to a place where I am making room for and taking time for something that I've always wanted to do.
Writing Creative Nonfiction (Edited by Carolyn Forche and Philip Gerard)...so far awesome...great fodder for writing.
Handbook of English Grammar and Usage (OK, I'm not really reading it, my mentor/editor "suggested" that I have it nearby...seems I keep getting my verb tenses screwy...or is that "screwed"? Either way...I am.)
"The Leadership Challenge" (Kouzes Posner) positively the best resource on digging deep into the experience of building and developing people...I have the journal and the workbook. Not for the faint of heart, a mere 500 pages of reading...take your time.
This week, I've written and almost finished AND even started the submission process with one of my essays..and I've started the biggest part of my speech for an upcoming conference. There are moments when the disparate streams of my life join and the rush of the momentum is truly a spiritual moment...things all make sense, even if my verb tense does not (do not????? AUGHHHHH).
All this to say that the one thing I will take a sword for here in my 41st year -- my creative life has to be nourished...i have set up a daily writing time and actually kept with it during a hectic "back at work" week, I have a new place to write so that I can drink/eat a little while I'm at it. I am no longer willing to postpone the time I spend creating...I am happiest when I'm in the throes of new ideas and new thoughts -- reading, writing, thinking. It is the time in which I'm happiest and I love the new people that are helping me create that part of my life more fully. I'd probably starve if I wrote for a living, but I'll starve in another way if I don't...so who knows where this will take me...right now, it's just good to finally get to a place where I am making room for and taking time for something that I've always wanted to do.
Great tunes
I am completely undone by the music of "Carbon Leaf" (www.carbonleaf.com). I purchased another CD this week (Echo, Echo) which is previous to "Indian Summer". I think I like "Indian Summer" better. The songs are such a diverse mix of mandolin, celticac, acoustical guitars, bodhran, even bouzuki ..along with other more traditional instruments.
My favorite tunes on Indian Summer -- "What about Everything" and "Life Extraordinary"...on the Echo, Echo CD, I'll take "Toy Soldiers" and "Desperation Song". It's been a long, long time since I've found a group that I am so taken with and I am completely loving the ride.
My favorite tunes on Indian Summer -- "What about Everything" and "Life Extraordinary"...on the Echo, Echo CD, I'll take "Toy Soldiers" and "Desperation Song". It's been a long, long time since I've found a group that I am so taken with and I am completely loving the ride.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
pics posted
I've posted some pics from my trip at
www.maurietray.phanfare.com
I really like this online photo album!
www.maurietray.phanfare.com
I really like this online photo album!
Monday, July 18, 2005
Traveler's Journal: Roberto's Massages
(This is a revised version of a previously written essay).
Whatever the journey, travel brings us to one guaranteed destination: to oneself.
Houston’s airport is full of clean lines and stainless steel gleam as I call, page, email for the last few times before I head to Mexico. The last six weeks of deadlines, postponed meetings and missed objectives has settled firmly into my neck causing me pain at every turn of my head. As my plane is called, I pick up my luggage, wince, head to the plank. My cell phone chirps like a trapped bird in my bag, but I let it go until I return in another week.
I arrive in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico with the July rain and a satchel full of ideas and hopes, and a schedule full of contacts and new acquaintances. I had hoped to have had enough time to look it over en route so that I could make every moment count when I landed. As my plane lifted, I settled into my itinerary, my head full of successful meetings with clients. Maybe we will clink our glasses together and make wonderful toasts in Spanish together to celebrate our achievements.
Out my window I see the coastline of Mexico, my neck crunching as I turn and look. I take in the palm trees, I see the ocean and I have a sense of excitement as I near my destination. As I check in I am relieved to know there is a spa. Do I dare?" Can I take the time to enjoy a massage? I thumb through my schedule, squinting, trying to decide what to do, but the ache in my neck can no longer be silenced and I book the appointment for later that same day.
Coral pinks, white sheets and simple archways create a serene and welcoming sense in the spa, though I’m already feeling guilty for the meeting that I’ve left early to be here. Worse I discover that there is no way to check for email in my hotel and room and I am panicked at the thought of how to keep up with the communication back to the states.
Roberto, the massage therapist, greets me warmly but he doesn’t say much. Maybe it’s because I can hardly speak Spanish or maybe he just sees how wired I am. The massage is painful, I yelp out in pain as he carefully, but firmly, massages the knot in my neck. He responds to my pain only with the words, "Breathe and relax."
I breathe shallowly.
He says again, "breathe and relax," as if I had not heard him the first time.
I try to obey but I feel silly. The Great Relaxation God hasn’t always blessed me in his ways and I don’t want to fake it.
Roberto sees me stall but he won’t continue until I breathe so I do because it’s just too much work to fight it. The need to move on is so much a part of who I am that I am impatient with all this breathing. It seems too slow. I just laythere, suspended while Roberto waits me out. "Shouldn’t we be doing something productive?" I almost say aloud.
By the end of the massage my aches are better but Roberto isn’t quite finished with me yet. He asks me to return for a deep tissue massage.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because I think I can help."
I’m not sure at all about this. My schedule is already behind and I’m not sure I’ve got the luxury of time for all this "breathing." Still, I agree to another massage for the next day.
After another day of interminably long business meetings in which I mutilate the Spanish language until I am embarrassed, my enthusiasm for the trip has fallen along with any hopes of a hairdo that will last me this week. The humidity from the ocean has turned my hair into a frizzy mess of rage that is comical. I feel nauseous from the heat and from the food. I start thinking of home and when I can make my way back. Whatever business schedule I had for myself has been derailed in a new world with rhythms that are unfamiliar to me. Phone calls that I am required to make are challenging at best with the language barrier. Meetings are difficult, nearly impossible, to set up in a world where time is a mere suggestion, not a statement of fact like it is in my country. In Mexico, time drifts like a lazy river when I am use to the rapids. I think of my massage with Roberto and realize that again, I have to cut out of a meeting to do so. Will I be able to "relax" better? Doubtfully, I head back to the spa.
My cell phone rings en route and it is my daughter on the other end.
"Mom! The basketball tournament was awesome! We won and I couldn’t miss a shot." She goes on with details about her victory and I am suddenly, unexplicably homesick. I could have been there had I not been sitting in a café waiting for someone who failed to show. I am angry and then suddenly I am crying with a force that surprises me, even frightens me. As I walk into the massage room, I know that Roberto has seen my tears but he says only, "Many people cry when they start to feel better" he says.
By the end of the week, the slower pace of business in Mexico has worn me thin. I begin to imagine what food I will eat once I return home. I yearn for a Sonic Route 44 iced tea, loaded with sugar and lots and lots of ice. I want to eat a Wendy’s hamburger and feel the grease run down my chin. The cobblestone streets of Mexico have ruined two wonderful pairs of shoes and my clothes are all damp, sweaty and full of sand from the ocean breezes. In meetings I continue to gargle the Spanish language and I have doubts as to what I’ve come here to do and if those goals will be met. Indeed, I fear that they will not be.
On my last day in Mexico I have my final massage with Roberto. As I climb the stairs to the spa I can see the ocean on my right. I see the vendors hawking their wares, hear the music of musicians as they stroll the grounds playing for whomever will pay them to do so. Though Mexico confounds me, wears on me, holds me captive from technology and schedules, I am beginning to hear my own breath. In. Out. In. Out.
Whatever the journey, travel brings us to one guaranteed destination: to oneself.
Houston’s airport is full of clean lines and stainless steel gleam as I call, page, email for the last few times before I head to Mexico. The last six weeks of deadlines, postponed meetings and missed objectives has settled firmly into my neck causing me pain at every turn of my head. As my plane is called, I pick up my luggage, wince, head to the plank. My cell phone chirps like a trapped bird in my bag, but I let it go until I return in another week.
I arrive in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico with the July rain and a satchel full of ideas and hopes, and a schedule full of contacts and new acquaintances. I had hoped to have had enough time to look it over en route so that I could make every moment count when I landed. As my plane lifted, I settled into my itinerary, my head full of successful meetings with clients. Maybe we will clink our glasses together and make wonderful toasts in Spanish together to celebrate our achievements.
Out my window I see the coastline of Mexico, my neck crunching as I turn and look. I take in the palm trees, I see the ocean and I have a sense of excitement as I near my destination. As I check in I am relieved to know there is a spa. Do I dare?" Can I take the time to enjoy a massage? I thumb through my schedule, squinting, trying to decide what to do, but the ache in my neck can no longer be silenced and I book the appointment for later that same day.
Coral pinks, white sheets and simple archways create a serene and welcoming sense in the spa, though I’m already feeling guilty for the meeting that I’ve left early to be here. Worse I discover that there is no way to check for email in my hotel and room and I am panicked at the thought of how to keep up with the communication back to the states.
Roberto, the massage therapist, greets me warmly but he doesn’t say much. Maybe it’s because I can hardly speak Spanish or maybe he just sees how wired I am. The massage is painful, I yelp out in pain as he carefully, but firmly, massages the knot in my neck. He responds to my pain only with the words, "Breathe and relax."
I breathe shallowly.
He says again, "breathe and relax," as if I had not heard him the first time.
I try to obey but I feel silly. The Great Relaxation God hasn’t always blessed me in his ways and I don’t want to fake it.
Roberto sees me stall but he won’t continue until I breathe so I do because it’s just too much work to fight it. The need to move on is so much a part of who I am that I am impatient with all this breathing. It seems too slow. I just laythere, suspended while Roberto waits me out. "Shouldn’t we be doing something productive?" I almost say aloud.
By the end of the massage my aches are better but Roberto isn’t quite finished with me yet. He asks me to return for a deep tissue massage.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because I think I can help."
I’m not sure at all about this. My schedule is already behind and I’m not sure I’ve got the luxury of time for all this "breathing." Still, I agree to another massage for the next day.
After another day of interminably long business meetings in which I mutilate the Spanish language until I am embarrassed, my enthusiasm for the trip has fallen along with any hopes of a hairdo that will last me this week. The humidity from the ocean has turned my hair into a frizzy mess of rage that is comical. I feel nauseous from the heat and from the food. I start thinking of home and when I can make my way back. Whatever business schedule I had for myself has been derailed in a new world with rhythms that are unfamiliar to me. Phone calls that I am required to make are challenging at best with the language barrier. Meetings are difficult, nearly impossible, to set up in a world where time is a mere suggestion, not a statement of fact like it is in my country. In Mexico, time drifts like a lazy river when I am use to the rapids. I think of my massage with Roberto and realize that again, I have to cut out of a meeting to do so. Will I be able to "relax" better? Doubtfully, I head back to the spa.
My cell phone rings en route and it is my daughter on the other end.
"Mom! The basketball tournament was awesome! We won and I couldn’t miss a shot." She goes on with details about her victory and I am suddenly, unexplicably homesick. I could have been there had I not been sitting in a café waiting for someone who failed to show. I am angry and then suddenly I am crying with a force that surprises me, even frightens me. As I walk into the massage room, I know that Roberto has seen my tears but he says only, "Many people cry when they start to feel better" he says.
By the end of the week, the slower pace of business in Mexico has worn me thin. I begin to imagine what food I will eat once I return home. I yearn for a Sonic Route 44 iced tea, loaded with sugar and lots and lots of ice. I want to eat a Wendy’s hamburger and feel the grease run down my chin. The cobblestone streets of Mexico have ruined two wonderful pairs of shoes and my clothes are all damp, sweaty and full of sand from the ocean breezes. In meetings I continue to gargle the Spanish language and I have doubts as to what I’ve come here to do and if those goals will be met. Indeed, I fear that they will not be.
On my last day in Mexico I have my final massage with Roberto. As I climb the stairs to the spa I can see the ocean on my right. I see the vendors hawking their wares, hear the music of musicians as they stroll the grounds playing for whomever will pay them to do so. Though Mexico confounds me, wears on me, holds me captive from technology and schedules, I am beginning to hear my own breath. In. Out. In. Out.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
He greeted me at the door when I arrived home to show me his new clothes he purchased from his own summer job. We went to his room where he was packing, clothes strewn every which way. He stopped a minute and strummed his guitar, practicing what must be every teenager's dream chorus on the guitar, "Stairway to Heaven".I listened as he told me about his week and about his excitement for the upcoming week. I tried to keep my face from showing what my heart was already feeling -- that this is one more doorway he is walking through that will eventually lead him away for good.
I have tried hard as a parent to give my kids the space they need to develop themselves in their own direction. I have tried my best to help them learn how to think more than what to think. I think the most important job a parent can do is to eliminate their kids need for their parents.
Even with that approach, watching my children start down their own life paths is both reassuring and terrifying. And, I have to be honest, it can be downright sad.
Before he left this morning, I asked Nathan for a picture and he said, "Sure" but then said, "Can we take them here at the house and not up at the school." There is only one response to that request if you are a mom of a teenage boy and it is a "yes, of course".
I did get a shot of Nathan and his buddy Lucas before they left for University of Arkansas. And as I replaced the camera cover for the lens I ducked my head low so that neither could see the tears that welled up in my eyes. I quickly hugged Nathan (he was a sport about that) and then made my way to the car, tears coming fast and furious now.
I looked back after we turned the car towards home and he was laughing with his friends and he looked so happy and so ready for this last trip as a high schooler to craft his art as a musician. As I looked in the rearview mirror with tears still coming down my face, I saw his hand raise with a wave towards us and then, he turned to load his gear. And my heart formed these words that I want to share with him..
"My son, my prayer for you is that you know that you are always in my heart, that nothing you do or don't do can ever, ever change my love for you. You always have a place to come to celebrate life's joys. You can count on me to be there to listen but I will promise to let you find you own way. You were the first to make me a "parent" and you have taught me more than all the books in any library. I love your spirit, I love your compassion, I love you. You make me, above all, proud to be a human being because your spirit lifts me and those around you. May you have a wonderful senior year and may this new phase of your life's journey bring you confidence, peace and a continued sense of wonder for your world."
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Traveler's Journal: PV Review
I'm blogging today from George Bush International Airport as I await my final trip home to Tulsa! This is the first of several postings that I will attempt to recreate my thoughts from my recent trip. This is more of a "summary" posting, with more details, pics to come later.
Neuvos amigos, escriban par favor!
Travel Destination: Puerto Vallarta, Mexico (www.villadelpalmarvallarta.com)
Travel Objective: to learn and absorb the culture of latinos so that I can be better prepared to talk, work with those in US. Also, to encourage those in my business.
Things I took with me that I didnt need to take:
Workbooks and things to "work on". Too busy!
Things I took with me that I would take again:
Notebook/pen - to record notes/thoughts and names of new friends.
More than one swim suit!
Laptop -- although I had to access internet from nearby cyber cafe - a big pain and very expensive. Muy caro!!
My fluent spanish speaking amiga, Carolyn!
My own "global cellular" phone. Inexpensive and really helpful and it really worked! www.cellularabroad.com. The global village is alive and well. This provided me a local phone number that could be used and best of all, receive, great reception and calls. It was easy to just load up on minutes by purchasing cards ($10 or so each) and that way, I kept a handle on international calling. A great solution!
Things that I wish I had brought along with me --
More patience with myself as I learned so many new things. Got very frustrated with my lack of spanish language.
Curling iron! My poor hair is so frizzy from all the humidity.
Biggest surprise -- the reality of how some others in the global world live...and how little I know/knew about it.
Biggest disappointment -- observing the limitations of others in mexico, including economic advancement.
Best sunset -- Caught this at "Burros" a great beach bar in "Romance District". The sign on the door says, "Enter if you Dare" so I knew a good time was to be had ...it was, with an added advantage of the funniest guy in PV -- check it out "Luis" with his stand up and one liners as he deftly served drinks and grub. Great fun! Wish I had gone there earlier in week.
Biggest disappointment for eating -- "Blue Shrimp". Good food, but terribly overpriced.
Best breakfast - "Freddy Tucans" which is kind of like the "latino IHOP". Even has its own version of the "grand slam".
Best wait staff -- or should I say, "best looking" cuz the service was kind of slow..."Mauricio's" in small town of Ixtapa north of PV. I think every member of the staff must be some kind of mexican male model...all very handsome and friendly. Best thing on the menu -- "shrimp soup" which tasted wonderful to me.
Best quiet bar - "Catcus" - in "romance district". I don't drink much at all, but do enjoy a "kuhla and cream" after dinner...like a hot fudge sundae on ice!
Best dancing -- "J&B" for older crowd...lots of things for the teeanager and those wearing size 6 or size 8...learned the spanish version of line dancing and tried my hand (feet) at salsa. I'll stick to line dancing.
Best "All you can eat" - "Asaderos", also in Romance District.
Most Relaxing -- Massages with Roberto..I'm working on an essay with more details about the three sessions I had, including Shiatzu massage. Wonderful and certainly something I'd do again.
Biggest waste of time -- time share presentations. This industry is a blight on the PV experience and I have formed some pretty strong opinions on how big developers are prostituting the country and the people of PV.
Mas tardes!
Neuvos amigos, escriban par favor!
Travel Destination: Puerto Vallarta, Mexico (www.villadelpalmarvallarta.com)
Travel Objective: to learn and absorb the culture of latinos so that I can be better prepared to talk, work with those in US. Also, to encourage those in my business.
Things I took with me that I didnt need to take:
Workbooks and things to "work on". Too busy!
Things I took with me that I would take again:
Notebook/pen - to record notes/thoughts and names of new friends.
More than one swim suit!
Laptop -- although I had to access internet from nearby cyber cafe - a big pain and very expensive. Muy caro!!
My fluent spanish speaking amiga, Carolyn!
My own "global cellular" phone. Inexpensive and really helpful and it really worked! www.cellularabroad.com. The global village is alive and well. This provided me a local phone number that could be used and best of all, receive, great reception and calls. It was easy to just load up on minutes by purchasing cards ($10 or so each) and that way, I kept a handle on international calling. A great solution!
Things that I wish I had brought along with me --
More patience with myself as I learned so many new things. Got very frustrated with my lack of spanish language.
Curling iron! My poor hair is so frizzy from all the humidity.
Biggest surprise -- the reality of how some others in the global world live...and how little I know/knew about it.
Biggest disappointment -- observing the limitations of others in mexico, including economic advancement.
Best sunset -- Caught this at "Burros" a great beach bar in "Romance District". The sign on the door says, "Enter if you Dare" so I knew a good time was to be had ...it was, with an added advantage of the funniest guy in PV -- check it out "Luis" with his stand up and one liners as he deftly served drinks and grub. Great fun! Wish I had gone there earlier in week.
Biggest disappointment for eating -- "Blue Shrimp". Good food, but terribly overpriced.
Best breakfast - "Freddy Tucans" which is kind of like the "latino IHOP". Even has its own version of the "grand slam".
Best wait staff -- or should I say, "best looking" cuz the service was kind of slow..."Mauricio's" in small town of Ixtapa north of PV. I think every member of the staff must be some kind of mexican male model...all very handsome and friendly. Best thing on the menu -- "shrimp soup" which tasted wonderful to me.
Best quiet bar - "Catcus" - in "romance district". I don't drink much at all, but do enjoy a "kuhla and cream" after dinner...like a hot fudge sundae on ice!
Best dancing -- "J&B" for older crowd...lots of things for the teeanager and those wearing size 6 or size 8...learned the spanish version of line dancing and tried my hand (feet) at salsa. I'll stick to line dancing.
Best "All you can eat" - "Asaderos", also in Romance District.
Most Relaxing -- Massages with Roberto..I'm working on an essay with more details about the three sessions I had, including Shiatzu massage. Wonderful and certainly something I'd do again.
Biggest waste of time -- time share presentations. This industry is a blight on the PV experience and I have formed some pretty strong opinions on how big developers are prostituting the country and the people of PV.
Mas tardes!
Thursday, July 14, 2005
looking towards home
today it is raining again...it is, after all the rainy season. i have time to reflect on some things so i sit in this cyber cafe in a world so different from my own to think.
i have often been less than charitable to my american co-pats...i often think americans are ignorant and often arrogant. i often complain about taxes and government and all kinds of things that we in america often complain about.
while i won't promise that i won't be as verbose on these areas in the future, i can say that traveling even in beautiful locations provides one a chance to truly be grateful for what we have in the good old u s of a.
don't worry -- i'm not going to strike up the band with 'proud to be an american' and lee greenwood and such truck. but i am a bit more thankful for being an american after being in mexico for almost a week.
this time, i chose to do some things that the natives do -- including taking a bus, eating at off the road places and that sort of thing. i purposefully put myself in situations that i thought would help me better understand the culture of the growing latino population. i don't pretend to have the final answer on any of this but i can say for sure, i am damn lucky to have been born in america.
yes, i work hard and yes i have had many good things in my life. but most of what i have been given is truly a luck of the draw..that i was born in prosperous country with a good brain and strong back.
although there are many opportunities that may never be mine, these are mine and it must bring up the question to a thinking person, how do i give back?
that's the question i am starting to ask myself more and more...but the first step must be in simplying realizing that i am the beneificary of so much...that's where all things must start. we go from there...
i have often been less than charitable to my american co-pats...i often think americans are ignorant and often arrogant. i often complain about taxes and government and all kinds of things that we in america often complain about.
while i won't promise that i won't be as verbose on these areas in the future, i can say that traveling even in beautiful locations provides one a chance to truly be grateful for what we have in the good old u s of a.
don't worry -- i'm not going to strike up the band with 'proud to be an american' and lee greenwood and such truck. but i am a bit more thankful for being an american after being in mexico for almost a week.
this time, i chose to do some things that the natives do -- including taking a bus, eating at off the road places and that sort of thing. i purposefully put myself in situations that i thought would help me better understand the culture of the growing latino population. i don't pretend to have the final answer on any of this but i can say for sure, i am damn lucky to have been born in america.
yes, i work hard and yes i have had many good things in my life. but most of what i have been given is truly a luck of the draw..that i was born in prosperous country with a good brain and strong back.
although there are many opportunities that may never be mine, these are mine and it must bring up the question to a thinking person, how do i give back?
that's the question i am starting to ask myself more and more...but the first step must be in simplying realizing that i am the beneificary of so much...that's where all things must start. we go from there...
Sunday, July 10, 2005
From Sunny Mexico...not really
It's not that sunny but it's wonderful. Today we toured some businesses and met a ton of new people...and so far, my spanish is still terrible. Lucky for me, my business partner/friend speaks fluent Spanish so hopefully I will keep out of jail and not offend the natives too much.
I will never, ever hear the words "pushy saleman" in the same light after today. We toured some time-share properties because there is so much new growth in the area...and they were truly beautiful..but an intelligent look into that industry can teach you that you can find great travel deals for a fraction of the cost..you just have to say "no, thank you, gracias" with conviction. I have been offered a free meals, cash, free taxi rides and a whole lot more just to sit in on a presentation, which I have done...and said "no, thank you," and still made friends. Most of the guys making their money are very good at what they do and most know when to stop. One guy today did not but I kept saying no, and he kept pushing. Finally, I just stopped and stared at him and said nothing and I think he got the message. It was a blast being on the other side of the table and seeing what passes for professionalism...and how most of it is just cheap manipulation. I not only believe this doesn't work, I believe such tactics harm most of those of us who do work with integrity in the sales profession.
But there were several real pro's and I appreciated them and their courtesy. I can say, "no" with the best of them and faithfully execute my right to do so.
I'm on my way to a shiatsu massage and some rest before another busy day tomorrow...am trying to get some creative thinking, writing done and am having a wonderful experience so far.
I will never, ever hear the words "pushy saleman" in the same light after today. We toured some time-share properties because there is so much new growth in the area...and they were truly beautiful..but an intelligent look into that industry can teach you that you can find great travel deals for a fraction of the cost..you just have to say "no, thank you, gracias" with conviction. I have been offered a free meals, cash, free taxi rides and a whole lot more just to sit in on a presentation, which I have done...and said "no, thank you," and still made friends. Most of the guys making their money are very good at what they do and most know when to stop. One guy today did not but I kept saying no, and he kept pushing. Finally, I just stopped and stared at him and said nothing and I think he got the message. It was a blast being on the other side of the table and seeing what passes for professionalism...and how most of it is just cheap manipulation. I not only believe this doesn't work, I believe such tactics harm most of those of us who do work with integrity in the sales profession.
But there were several real pro's and I appreciated them and their courtesy. I can say, "no" with the best of them and faithfully execute my right to do so.
I'm on my way to a shiatsu massage and some rest before another busy day tomorrow...am trying to get some creative thinking, writing done and am having a wonderful experience so far.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
What's been going on...
I admit it, I've been a terribly blogger.
Do I get any marks for the other writing I've been doing...working on a novel, laying out plans for a new business year?
Not to mention planning my next trip to Mexico, which I leave Saturday. I've not "blogged" in so long, I feel kind of "clogged"...clogged with ideas and the need -- yes, the need -- for writing.
None of which makes a lo tof difference given the terror that has happened in London. I am saddened for the loss and I wonder what this means for the rest of us as we watch yet another terror spree unfold. What is so maddening is that the summit whose work to end poverty and other important world issues has to be stopped to deal with the insistence of those who has bombed London.
Some good news -- finishing my business year with the 4 best months of my entire career. This has encouraged me to think bigger and reach higher than ever before. (And save some $$$).
More good news -- Dan heard today of an offer for work. I sense the relief in him and I am happy that we've soldiered through this time together -- always together. My husband and familiy are more precious to me than ever before and it feels good to make it through a tough season together and intact.
In addition to all this, we're getting the kids ready for a new school year...basketball tourney, touring colleges for Nathan, getting backpacks and clothes. Another season begins as we continue on together.
There are times when in spite of the chaos and busyness, it just seems good to be thankful for the things in life that are so basic -- family, connection, love, health.
Do I get any marks for the other writing I've been doing...working on a novel, laying out plans for a new business year?
Not to mention planning my next trip to Mexico, which I leave Saturday. I've not "blogged" in so long, I feel kind of "clogged"...clogged with ideas and the need -- yes, the need -- for writing.
None of which makes a lo tof difference given the terror that has happened in London. I am saddened for the loss and I wonder what this means for the rest of us as we watch yet another terror spree unfold. What is so maddening is that the summit whose work to end poverty and other important world issues has to be stopped to deal with the insistence of those who has bombed London.
Some good news -- finishing my business year with the 4 best months of my entire career. This has encouraged me to think bigger and reach higher than ever before. (And save some $$$).
More good news -- Dan heard today of an offer for work. I sense the relief in him and I am happy that we've soldiered through this time together -- always together. My husband and familiy are more precious to me than ever before and it feels good to make it through a tough season together and intact.
In addition to all this, we're getting the kids ready for a new school year...basketball tourney, touring colleges for Nathan, getting backpacks and clothes. Another season begins as we continue on together.
There are times when in spite of the chaos and busyness, it just seems good to be thankful for the things in life that are so basic -- family, connection, love, health.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Carbon Leaf
Discovered "Carbon Leaf" and their newest album "Indian Summer"... what a great treat to have on this, the last day of my business year.
Many goals reached, many not. Here's a phrase that speaks to me today,
"What about everything?
What about aeroplanes? And what about ships that drank the sea?
What about the moon and stars? What about soldier battle scars?
And all the anger that they eat?
What about aliens? What about you and me and...
What about gold beneath the sea?
What about when buildings fall? What about the midnight phone call...
The one that wakes you from your peace?
Well, I am not in need."
This is why I love art, music, literature. It has the ability to speak to one's soul on days when we most need nourishment and perspective.
Many goals reached, many not. Here's a phrase that speaks to me today,
"What about everything?
What about aeroplanes? And what about ships that drank the sea?
What about the moon and stars? What about soldier battle scars?
And all the anger that they eat?
What about aliens? What about you and me and...
What about gold beneath the sea?
What about when buildings fall? What about the midnight phone call...
The one that wakes you from your peace?
Well, I am not in need."
This is why I love art, music, literature. It has the ability to speak to one's soul on days when we most need nourishment and perspective.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
The Leadership Challenge
I recently acquired the book, "The Leadership Challenge" by Kouzes/Posner along with the journal. Here's the opening lines:
"The Leadership Challenge is about how leaders mobilize others to want to get extraordinary things done in organizations. It's about the practices leaders use to transform values into actions, visions into realities, obstacles into innovations, separateness into solidarity, and risks into rewards. It's about leadership that creates the climate in which people turn challenging opportunities into remarkable successes."
With over 400 pages, it's not a quick read, but with an opening 'graph like that, it has my full attention. More later, I'm sure.
"The Leadership Challenge is about how leaders mobilize others to want to get extraordinary things done in organizations. It's about the practices leaders use to transform values into actions, visions into realities, obstacles into innovations, separateness into solidarity, and risks into rewards. It's about leadership that creates the climate in which people turn challenging opportunities into remarkable successes."
With over 400 pages, it's not a quick read, but with an opening 'graph like that, it has my full attention. More later, I'm sure.
Monday, June 27, 2005
Caliente
I am getting all ready for the big Mexican adventure...ordered supplies, constantly talking to those in PV, buying more supplies.
I'm sure I'm not at all ready.
How does one enter another culture, really? I mean, especially one like myself who often can't even make sense of her own? How do you become familar with those that think differently, act differently, experience the world differently?
I don't know. I really don't. I'm sure that I am totally unprepared for so much...I may fail spectacularly. Somehow, that both terrifies and reassures me.
Mark Twain said, "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness and many people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."
I could not agree more. Sometimes, I am so weary of the same, blandness that populates my little corner of the world...everyone looks the same, talks the same, has the same opinion on politics, religion. It's almost unnerving, it's so american-white bread.
Next week, my son starts his own journey from home as he starts visiting colleges. Dan and I have re-done his office upstairs and he has displayed some amazing photos of the kids...I can hardly go in there and I start to cry...Nathan on my knees as a toddler, Nathan at the piano, Nathan getting ready for school...I want to ask, "where was I?"? I was there but so busy worrying about so many things that mattered so little. Sure, his backpack was ready and he looked adorable...but how could I have known I would be peering into those pics now in some desperate attempt to keep him here with me? I want him to go, but I also want him to stay - and it can't be both ways.
Time to grow up and let go...so hard.
I'm sure I'm not at all ready.
How does one enter another culture, really? I mean, especially one like myself who often can't even make sense of her own? How do you become familar with those that think differently, act differently, experience the world differently?
I don't know. I really don't. I'm sure that I am totally unprepared for so much...I may fail spectacularly. Somehow, that both terrifies and reassures me.
Mark Twain said, "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness and many people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."
I could not agree more. Sometimes, I am so weary of the same, blandness that populates my little corner of the world...everyone looks the same, talks the same, has the same opinion on politics, religion. It's almost unnerving, it's so american-white bread.
Next week, my son starts his own journey from home as he starts visiting colleges. Dan and I have re-done his office upstairs and he has displayed some amazing photos of the kids...I can hardly go in there and I start to cry...Nathan on my knees as a toddler, Nathan at the piano, Nathan getting ready for school...I want to ask, "where was I?"? I was there but so busy worrying about so many things that mattered so little. Sure, his backpack was ready and he looked adorable...but how could I have known I would be peering into those pics now in some desperate attempt to keep him here with me? I want him to go, but I also want him to stay - and it can't be both ways.
Time to grow up and let go...so hard.
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Bewitched
It's cheesy, predictable, gooey-sweet. Should come with a warning: DO NOT watch if you are diabetic or easily annoyed by goofy writing and skitchsy themes.
I loved it.
For all the reasons that I loved the original Bewitched....in fact, I was the one laughing the loudest during the clips of the original show.
I've tried really hard to "not" like Nicole Kidman, but alas, I must give in and admit it...she's amazing. True, it's easier to love her now that she is no longer Ms. Cruise. Personally, I think maybe he dumped her because he somehow knew - she'd probably get more billing than he would someday.
And what can I say about Will Ferrell? (Those "backhair" skits from SNL still ring in my head everytime I see him.) He isn't the funniest guy I've ever seen - I certainly like other comics better. But he's somehow been able to make the transition from his sophomoric days at SNL to holding his own in a scene with heavyweights like Michael Caine, Shirley MacLain and other Hollywood legends.
I also liked this movie for the simple fact that it had great supporting casts. Jason Schwartzman and Heather Burns rounded out a great casts that supported and added depth to an already full slate of actors and actresses.
There were some slack moments, to be sure. I didn't care much for the performance of "Uncle Arthur" although I love the comic who does him -- the guy on the "Office" and also a big hit in "Bruce Almighty" as the anchorman that loses his cool at the desk.
I also saw some great upcoming flicks, including "In her Shoes" with one of my cult favorites -- Toni Collette. I was encouraged by the offerings in spite of the dismal selection of movies currently playing -- I'll avoid spectacularly boring fare such as "War of the Worlds" and "Batman Begins" just because I've already heard more than I care to about the new little love birds.
http://www.sonypictures.com/movies/bewitched/site/
I loved it.
For all the reasons that I loved the original Bewitched....in fact, I was the one laughing the loudest during the clips of the original show.
I've tried really hard to "not" like Nicole Kidman, but alas, I must give in and admit it...she's amazing. True, it's easier to love her now that she is no longer Ms. Cruise. Personally, I think maybe he dumped her because he somehow knew - she'd probably get more billing than he would someday.
And what can I say about Will Ferrell? (Those "backhair" skits from SNL still ring in my head everytime I see him.) He isn't the funniest guy I've ever seen - I certainly like other comics better. But he's somehow been able to make the transition from his sophomoric days at SNL to holding his own in a scene with heavyweights like Michael Caine, Shirley MacLain and other Hollywood legends.
I also liked this movie for the simple fact that it had great supporting casts. Jason Schwartzman and Heather Burns rounded out a great casts that supported and added depth to an already full slate of actors and actresses.
There were some slack moments, to be sure. I didn't care much for the performance of "Uncle Arthur" although I love the comic who does him -- the guy on the "Office" and also a big hit in "Bruce Almighty" as the anchorman that loses his cool at the desk.
I also saw some great upcoming flicks, including "In her Shoes" with one of my cult favorites -- Toni Collette. I was encouraged by the offerings in spite of the dismal selection of movies currently playing -- I'll avoid spectacularly boring fare such as "War of the Worlds" and "Batman Begins" just because I've already heard more than I care to about the new little love birds.
http://www.sonypictures.com/movies/bewitched/site/
Friday, June 24, 2005
Thoughts on a Friday Night
The Oklahoma heat has been slamming into me all day as I went about my appointments. My car has become a dustball, my hair has gone limp, my clothes grimy with restaurant grease, sweat and grime.
This is end of the year ---end of the road. In the past two weeks I've put over 1000 miles on my car as I've driven from one end of Dallas, through Denison TX and then back home. In one more week, I'll be re-starting a new year of business.
I'm ready.
This year has brought challenges but more importantly it has brought me nose to nose with myself. I have had to dig deep to find meaning in what was once a simple hobby. I've had to face some demons of doubt (always lingering) some appiritions of fear (never far away) and most of all, my own skepticism in if I could meet the demand.
For the record, I have.
But that's not why I'm celebrating. I'm celebrating because it just feels so damn good to look a fear in the eye and say, "I'm not going to let you define who I am".
For the record, I haven't met the "benchmark" that I had originally set. In fact, I may not even get halfway there. But therein lies the point.
The objective of goals are not always the goals themselves -- but instead the way that goals lead you back to yourself, your abilities, your commitments.
As I've struggled with myself this past few months I've had to take a hard look at myself, my leadership, my lack of skills and my abundance of them. I've had to get really honest with myself on why I do what I do and ask myself, "do I really want to do this for the rest of my life?"
The answer - nope.
Not in the way I have. But in a new way -- a deeper way -- a way with more meaning and more value. I call it "thumbprint leadership".
For me this means the kind of qualities that are central to me as a person and how those qualities (values) will be reflected in my leadership. Here are a few of the central tenets:
a - Accepting others uniqueness
b - Accepting others choices -- even (and mostly) when they disagree with me.
c - Letting go -- of others, situations that need to be parted with in a way that brings harmony to the relationship -- and to myself and that person.
d - Expecting others to "show up" for their mission (but allowing them to define it).
e - Working with passion towards a completed goal.
f - being a "3-D" person -- allowing for all aspects of my personality to be fed. This is mostly made manifest in that I am no longer willing to allow my artistic side to take a back seat. In fact, the creative process is a vital tool I can use to sustain long, dusty roads in my life.
g - being clear in the "real" goal. The goal for me can no longer be simply a paycheck, a bauble, an achievement...but it must be something that brings value to another person.
These are the central themes that I have defined that are critical for my definition of success. For me, these are the ways that I can gain authenticity in my leadership and in my life.
This is end of the year ---end of the road. In the past two weeks I've put over 1000 miles on my car as I've driven from one end of Dallas, through Denison TX and then back home. In one more week, I'll be re-starting a new year of business.
I'm ready.
This year has brought challenges but more importantly it has brought me nose to nose with myself. I have had to dig deep to find meaning in what was once a simple hobby. I've had to face some demons of doubt (always lingering) some appiritions of fear (never far away) and most of all, my own skepticism in if I could meet the demand.
For the record, I have.
But that's not why I'm celebrating. I'm celebrating because it just feels so damn good to look a fear in the eye and say, "I'm not going to let you define who I am".
For the record, I haven't met the "benchmark" that I had originally set. In fact, I may not even get halfway there. But therein lies the point.
The objective of goals are not always the goals themselves -- but instead the way that goals lead you back to yourself, your abilities, your commitments.
As I've struggled with myself this past few months I've had to take a hard look at myself, my leadership, my lack of skills and my abundance of them. I've had to get really honest with myself on why I do what I do and ask myself, "do I really want to do this for the rest of my life?"
The answer - nope.
Not in the way I have. But in a new way -- a deeper way -- a way with more meaning and more value. I call it "thumbprint leadership".
For me this means the kind of qualities that are central to me as a person and how those qualities (values) will be reflected in my leadership. Here are a few of the central tenets:
a - Accepting others uniqueness
b - Accepting others choices -- even (and mostly) when they disagree with me.
c - Letting go -- of others, situations that need to be parted with in a way that brings harmony to the relationship -- and to myself and that person.
d - Expecting others to "show up" for their mission (but allowing them to define it).
e - Working with passion towards a completed goal.
f - being a "3-D" person -- allowing for all aspects of my personality to be fed. This is mostly made manifest in that I am no longer willing to allow my artistic side to take a back seat. In fact, the creative process is a vital tool I can use to sustain long, dusty roads in my life.
g - being clear in the "real" goal. The goal for me can no longer be simply a paycheck, a bauble, an achievement...but it must be something that brings value to another person.
These are the central themes that I have defined that are critical for my definition of success. For me, these are the ways that I can gain authenticity in my leadership and in my life.
Jimmy Buffett: Quiet Time
Most of the time fish are swimming around either eating or avoiding being eaten.”“I know a lot of humans that do the same thing.”“But fish know they need a break from the cycle of the food chain, and it happens at slack tide.”“So it’s kind of a universal time-out?”“I call it Quiet Time, people would be better off if they did the same.”
—Jimmy Buffett
—Jimmy Buffett
Monday, June 20, 2005
Today
I had the opportunity to have lunch with some friends today. Darren LaCroix (www.Presentation411.com) was the guest and we got to pick his brain on how he makes his living as a professional speaker. (Darren is the 2001 World Champion of Public Speaking). It was a very interesting lunch and I learned a lot.
I'm interested in how to be a better communicator -- written word, speech, etc., so these kinds of informal learning are very helpful to me. In the last few months I've really been thinking a lot about my more creative side -- writing/creating/speaking and I like what I'm designing. No, I don't think I'll make my living (yet) by giving speeches, although it is tempting to know that there hasn't been a world champion (female) since the '70's. Hmmmm....
Seriously, I give a lot of presentations and being able to do them with aplumb is important to me.
I'm interested in how to be a better communicator -- written word, speech, etc., so these kinds of informal learning are very helpful to me. In the last few months I've really been thinking a lot about my more creative side -- writing/creating/speaking and I like what I'm designing. No, I don't think I'll make my living (yet) by giving speeches, although it is tempting to know that there hasn't been a world champion (female) since the '70's. Hmmmm....
Seriously, I give a lot of presentations and being able to do them with aplumb is important to me.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Father's Day and Amazing Grace
I'm going to try to write something here about Father's Day.
I could write that I believe Father's Day, like other holidays, are merely fantasies created by card makers to sell more cards. And I would be right.
What I also believe is that the mental health profession is probably making a killing during days such as Father's Day. Who among us doesn't yearn for the bucolic image of father and son or father and daughter times spent together playing chess, riding bicycles, doing homework? Who among us doesn't pine for the acceptance of a parent, namely that of a father? Who among us isn't caught up between the need for a parent and the parent's rejection, even if that rejection is merely the silence of a parent that has been largely absent? I imagine that far too many of us are spending time at least trying to come to terms with the parent -- or lack of one -- in our lives on days such as "Father's Day".
But at 42, the time has long passed that I can really cry "foul" on the lack of parenting from my father. Truly, I watch the credit card commerical of the guy watching his daughter grow up in front of him and tears do well and emotions do come. And I sneer at them, "yeah, if I'd ONLY had a dad with a large credit line, then surely all my problems would be gone." Uh huh...that'd do it. What kind of marketing slime creates such images for us to view? As if parenting is just about footing the bill and signing on the bottom line?
The reality is that parenting is a job for those that have much more at their disposal than large credit lines. If parenting were ONLY about filling the perpetual extended hand! Parenting is an investment of every emotional capability we have -- emotional, spiritual, physcial. There is no job or challenge that can compare to that of raising emotionally healthy beings in a world that values one's cash value more than they do one's ability to live at peace with oneself and with others.
Though my father has been absent most of my life, he is the ghost that haunts me in my parenting. I simply want to do it better than he did. I want to be "there" in more ways than flesh...I want to be there for my kids in ways that matter.
And here is where they difference between me and my father must end. I am far less able to be a "present parent" and do that well than I would have thought when I was a kid, sizing up my parents and declaring them less than what I wanted. For if I am honest with myself (and honesty is a key element of being a healthy parent) I have to admit...it is tough stuff to keep one's head in the parenting game amidst the cry of mortgage payments, school activities, work comittments, life disappointments.
Recently, my son picked up his first check from his summer job. While I knew in my adult head (and heart) that his minimum wage paying job was going to be long, arduous and thankless, he did not yet see it that way. This was his independence day! This was the day he become a wage earner! He was excited to get his first check and we went to the place together, me holding my breath the entire way. His jubilance was held in check as he opened the envelope and realized what so many of us do at payday-- there is often far less in that weekly envelope than we had hoped. Far less cash, far less opportunity, far less acclaim and sometimes far less satisfaction.
This, coupled with the recent event of his first speeding ticket provided him a great life opportunity. The opportunity for him to be accountable for the results of his actions and quite literally, to "pay up". The reality was, after the ticket, filling up his gas tank and keeping up with the demands of teenage life, he was already out of cash.
My heart broke for him. Part of me wanted to take him and say, "Hey, no problem, I'll cover this for you." And I could've. Easily. Would have taken it away from him in a heart beat. That would've eased my pain but could have easily doubled his.
Being a present parent requires that we feel that pain and realize that the pain of today will be multiplied a hundred fold when the lesson is learned later. Today, it may be a few nights out with friends that he is missing so that he can make the cash he needs to pay for his day in court...in a few years, the cost to him might be much greater. This was simply an opportunity for him to learn the cost of living is one that has to be measured in a large degree on how we manage our time and how we manage our resources.
This is when it is not easy to be a parent. It's not easy when your kids KNOWS you can take away his momentary pain and you resolutely decide you will not. It isn't fun knowing that he looks at every purchase you make and says, "yeah, but will she help ME OUT?" It isn't easy, frankly, to be the one that makes the hard choices.
It would be easier to be my kid's buddy, their best friend, their "fun-time" pal. But it wouldn't be the kind of parent that I know I needed -- and still need -- and the kind of parent that my kid needs.
Nope, I'm quite sure I didn't have a perfect dad. And I'm almost as certain I won't be the perfect parent either. Perhaps the best that we can do it as we grow into parents ourselves is to have the grace to look to our own parents and say, "yeah, you were a screw up. you blew it a lot. "
The reality is, we all do. Parenting isn't about perfection. It's about growing up. Becoming mature. Facing responsibility when we'd rather duck it. Following through when we'd rather quit. Continuing on when it'd be so much easier to give up.
And all of us, in every generation, do this imperfectly. Maybe, if I can learn grace myself -- how to give it, accept it, lavish it on others, they just might be able to extend it to me as they evaluate my parenting.
I could write that I believe Father's Day, like other holidays, are merely fantasies created by card makers to sell more cards. And I would be right.
What I also believe is that the mental health profession is probably making a killing during days such as Father's Day. Who among us doesn't yearn for the bucolic image of father and son or father and daughter times spent together playing chess, riding bicycles, doing homework? Who among us doesn't pine for the acceptance of a parent, namely that of a father? Who among us isn't caught up between the need for a parent and the parent's rejection, even if that rejection is merely the silence of a parent that has been largely absent? I imagine that far too many of us are spending time at least trying to come to terms with the parent -- or lack of one -- in our lives on days such as "Father's Day".
But at 42, the time has long passed that I can really cry "foul" on the lack of parenting from my father. Truly, I watch the credit card commerical of the guy watching his daughter grow up in front of him and tears do well and emotions do come. And I sneer at them, "yeah, if I'd ONLY had a dad with a large credit line, then surely all my problems would be gone." Uh huh...that'd do it. What kind of marketing slime creates such images for us to view? As if parenting is just about footing the bill and signing on the bottom line?
The reality is that parenting is a job for those that have much more at their disposal than large credit lines. If parenting were ONLY about filling the perpetual extended hand! Parenting is an investment of every emotional capability we have -- emotional, spiritual, physcial. There is no job or challenge that can compare to that of raising emotionally healthy beings in a world that values one's cash value more than they do one's ability to live at peace with oneself and with others.
Though my father has been absent most of my life, he is the ghost that haunts me in my parenting. I simply want to do it better than he did. I want to be "there" in more ways than flesh...I want to be there for my kids in ways that matter.
And here is where they difference between me and my father must end. I am far less able to be a "present parent" and do that well than I would have thought when I was a kid, sizing up my parents and declaring them less than what I wanted. For if I am honest with myself (and honesty is a key element of being a healthy parent) I have to admit...it is tough stuff to keep one's head in the parenting game amidst the cry of mortgage payments, school activities, work comittments, life disappointments.
Recently, my son picked up his first check from his summer job. While I knew in my adult head (and heart) that his minimum wage paying job was going to be long, arduous and thankless, he did not yet see it that way. This was his independence day! This was the day he become a wage earner! He was excited to get his first check and we went to the place together, me holding my breath the entire way. His jubilance was held in check as he opened the envelope and realized what so many of us do at payday-- there is often far less in that weekly envelope than we had hoped. Far less cash, far less opportunity, far less acclaim and sometimes far less satisfaction.
This, coupled with the recent event of his first speeding ticket provided him a great life opportunity. The opportunity for him to be accountable for the results of his actions and quite literally, to "pay up". The reality was, after the ticket, filling up his gas tank and keeping up with the demands of teenage life, he was already out of cash.
My heart broke for him. Part of me wanted to take him and say, "Hey, no problem, I'll cover this for you." And I could've. Easily. Would have taken it away from him in a heart beat. That would've eased my pain but could have easily doubled his.
Being a present parent requires that we feel that pain and realize that the pain of today will be multiplied a hundred fold when the lesson is learned later. Today, it may be a few nights out with friends that he is missing so that he can make the cash he needs to pay for his day in court...in a few years, the cost to him might be much greater. This was simply an opportunity for him to learn the cost of living is one that has to be measured in a large degree on how we manage our time and how we manage our resources.
This is when it is not easy to be a parent. It's not easy when your kids KNOWS you can take away his momentary pain and you resolutely decide you will not. It isn't fun knowing that he looks at every purchase you make and says, "yeah, but will she help ME OUT?" It isn't easy, frankly, to be the one that makes the hard choices.
It would be easier to be my kid's buddy, their best friend, their "fun-time" pal. But it wouldn't be the kind of parent that I know I needed -- and still need -- and the kind of parent that my kid needs.
Nope, I'm quite sure I didn't have a perfect dad. And I'm almost as certain I won't be the perfect parent either. Perhaps the best that we can do it as we grow into parents ourselves is to have the grace to look to our own parents and say, "yeah, you were a screw up. you blew it a lot. "
The reality is, we all do. Parenting isn't about perfection. It's about growing up. Becoming mature. Facing responsibility when we'd rather duck it. Following through when we'd rather quit. Continuing on when it'd be so much easier to give up.
And all of us, in every generation, do this imperfectly. Maybe, if I can learn grace myself -- how to give it, accept it, lavish it on others, they just might be able to extend it to me as they evaluate my parenting.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Dallas
I'm "vegging" at a great little hotel in Dallas in between gigs...I love this part of traveling..reading, writing, hitting the hot tub.
What amazes me about traveling is how small I sometimes let me world become. I can meet 50 new people in a day just by driving 5 hours south from my home. There is something reassuring about that...seeing people who inhabit lives that know nothing about you and you about them. Like the world that you inhabit is really small, after all...they don't even know you, you don't even know them...it makes all things in life seem less pressing, less of a "big deal". And indeed it is, thankfully.
I'm reading Joyce Carol Oates "Man Crazy" and listening again and again to Marc Broussard...my favorite track on his album "Save me"...great quirky beat...I can't wait to hear more from this artist.
What amazes me about traveling is how small I sometimes let me world become. I can meet 50 new people in a day just by driving 5 hours south from my home. There is something reassuring about that...seeing people who inhabit lives that know nothing about you and you about them. Like the world that you inhabit is really small, after all...they don't even know you, you don't even know them...it makes all things in life seem less pressing, less of a "big deal". And indeed it is, thankfully.
I'm reading Joyce Carol Oates "Man Crazy" and listening again and again to Marc Broussard...my favorite track on his album "Save me"...great quirky beat...I can't wait to hear more from this artist.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Taking a break with Marc and John
Best Buy is the iconic cave for our generation. It's where the artistic and innovative go to create, think, ponder and of course buy great tunes.
I ducked in during a lunch break today and was instantly hit with the smell of new plastic, metal and all things electronic. I was transported out of the heat of the June day into a cool, loud and very tech-y interior where images, sounds from another world greeted me.
I so rarely visit a "real" store anymore, (most of my shopping being done online) that I felt like a kid at the amusement park. I restrained myself --- I wanted to run from the 400 versions of the digital camera (all lined up in a swirl pattern) , then back again to the computers ( I was tempted to run my fingers up and down the computer keyboards like a kid might do in a music store. ) Instead, I lesirely loped over the to the music section and found my favorite alternative rock bands and read their jacket covers (do CD's have 'jacket covers' or is that old-school talk for album art?)
I settled upon two new artists - Marc Broussard and John Hiatt. Actually, most John Hiatt fans would laugh to hear me call him a "new artist"..he's actually one of most enduring musicians around. His newest album "John Hiatt and the Goners" is still in its plastic sheeting and I plan to rock out to it this afternoon while working.
There is a certain mystique in purchasing a new CD (or album). My kids disdain this type of purchase, "Just go online and purchase the SONG you want, instead of all those songs you don't" is what they always say to me. I dunno. I kind of enjoy letting the artist reveal him or herself to me through the different songs that they've created. I feel that I get more personal with them, understand their particular musical vernacular. Only one song feels more like a a "first date"...too short, too easily forgotten and leaves you just wanting more, anyway.
Music is the narration of life. It speaks into our souls, illuminating feelings that cannot be spoken. Music, like all good art, brings us into the realm of another god, someone who understand the complexities of their world and can explain it to us. A chord, a musical phrase can bring a "rightness" to the world that defies description. The best music is the stuff that introduces us to ourselves, speaks to us on levels that we can only hear through the voice and sounds of another.
Great lyrics from Marc Brousard off his CD ("Carenco")
I ducked in during a lunch break today and was instantly hit with the smell of new plastic, metal and all things electronic. I was transported out of the heat of the June day into a cool, loud and very tech-y interior where images, sounds from another world greeted me.
I so rarely visit a "real" store anymore, (most of my shopping being done online) that I felt like a kid at the amusement park. I restrained myself --- I wanted to run from the 400 versions of the digital camera (all lined up in a swirl pattern) , then back again to the computers ( I was tempted to run my fingers up and down the computer keyboards like a kid might do in a music store. ) Instead, I lesirely loped over the to the music section and found my favorite alternative rock bands and read their jacket covers (do CD's have 'jacket covers' or is that old-school talk for album art?)
I settled upon two new artists - Marc Broussard and John Hiatt. Actually, most John Hiatt fans would laugh to hear me call him a "new artist"..he's actually one of most enduring musicians around. His newest album "John Hiatt and the Goners" is still in its plastic sheeting and I plan to rock out to it this afternoon while working.
There is a certain mystique in purchasing a new CD (or album). My kids disdain this type of purchase, "Just go online and purchase the SONG you want, instead of all those songs you don't" is what they always say to me. I dunno. I kind of enjoy letting the artist reveal him or herself to me through the different songs that they've created. I feel that I get more personal with them, understand their particular musical vernacular. Only one song feels more like a a "first date"...too short, too easily forgotten and leaves you just wanting more, anyway.
Music is the narration of life. It speaks into our souls, illuminating feelings that cannot be spoken. Music, like all good art, brings us into the realm of another god, someone who understand the complexities of their world and can explain it to us. A chord, a musical phrase can bring a "rightness" to the world that defies description. The best music is the stuff that introduces us to ourselves, speaks to us on levels that we can only hear through the voice and sounds of another.
Great lyrics from Marc Brousard off his CD ("Carenco")
"The Wanderer"
I'm just drifting on thie lonely road of mine
And if you like you can come along with me
But I promise you that I am not the man I used to be
But I promise you that I am not the man I used to be
Now you and I we've seen our share of ups and downs
Somewhere we just lost hope
I can't change the past, but who cares
Your love is all I've ever known
Your love is all I've ever known
I'm a wanderer I have no place or time
I'm just drifting on this lonely road of mine
If you would accept me for me
Then I promise you that there's a better man inside of me
Yes I promise you that there's a better man inside of me
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Letter Home
"Dear Mom and Dad:
"I got your letter this week and want to try to calm your fears about my recent decision to
attend church at another place.
"I know that you have been worried about me but I want to tell you that I'm doing fine. I'm making lots of new friends and am really enjoying hanging out with them.
"I know that you have a lot of questions. You worked really hard for your faith and you wanted so badly for me to have your faith, too.
"Problem is, I can't have your faith. I have to have my own. And that's what I'm trying to do.
"You asked me about the type of service, the classes, and a host of other things. Let me try to answer you the best way I can.
"Truth be told, the service is not that great. I mean, the bass player only knows a few chords and stuff, so we pretty much stick to a few songs that we all know. Even though we do have a worship order, it's not published anywhere and we really don't know what song might be coming next, which I know would drive Dad crazy. Maybe you, too.
"Sometimes the music is too loud for me, because we never had instruments at church when I went with you. I guess what really matter to me, though, is not so much for the form of the music but the soul of it.
"You asked me about the preacher and the preaching. Well, honestly, the preaching isn't as good as what I'm used to. Mainly because a lot of people who aren't "preachers" share their thoughts and their ideas, so since they aren't really "professionals" it is really informal and sometimes spontaneous. I guess what I like about this is that it seems real and authentic to me, more like a discussion in which I'm a part, involving me, talking to me and me with it.
"You also wanted to know about small groups and stuff like that. I know you'll be disappointed to know that we don't have those really. But when I went through a tough time with my job I had several friends come by and try to cheer me up. We talked about things and they told me that they were "there" for me. They didn't have to do that, though, because I knew that already just because they came to see me.
"Finally, you asked me about what kind of building we have. Again, you'll be disappointed in me when I tell you we don't have a building. We meet in a movie theater along with the leftover coke cups and candy wrappers. And, we aren't really thinking about a building because there are lots of people in our community in need and we want to be able to give to them when we can. We don't have a lot of "staff" (by now, you're probably really worried!) so our money can be used for things like the tsunamai victims and other global neighbors.
"Mom, Dad, I know that you are probably really disappointed in all this. You raised me to go to church three times a week and there were rules and a "way to do things". I guess though the thing that is most important to me is that when I hurt, people are there for me and when I celebrate people are there, too. And I get to be a part of their good and bad times too. I think that is what community is, doing "life" with people and letting them do "life" with you. I'm just not as good as you guys are at pretending and I really want just to be myself and have others just be OK with that.
"You've asked me in your letter about what I think God would think of my choice. I've thought about that question a lot. As I've thought about my new community of faith I see a lot of things that could be different. What I hope is that God sees that we really care about each other and hopefully, others who come into our midst can see that too. I think, Mom and Dad, that when I try to think about what God would want, from what I understand, is that God wants to see us love and accept each other in spite of stupid stuff that we sometimes do. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think that is more important than how good a sermon might be or how many classes we have.
"So thanks for writing. I know it's hard to see your kid make different decisions than you might make for him. Love, Your Son"
"I got your letter this week and want to try to calm your fears about my recent decision to
attend church at another place.
"I know that you have been worried about me but I want to tell you that I'm doing fine. I'm making lots of new friends and am really enjoying hanging out with them.
"I know that you have a lot of questions. You worked really hard for your faith and you wanted so badly for me to have your faith, too.
"Problem is, I can't have your faith. I have to have my own. And that's what I'm trying to do.
"You asked me about the type of service, the classes, and a host of other things. Let me try to answer you the best way I can.
"Truth be told, the service is not that great. I mean, the bass player only knows a few chords and stuff, so we pretty much stick to a few songs that we all know. Even though we do have a worship order, it's not published anywhere and we really don't know what song might be coming next, which I know would drive Dad crazy. Maybe you, too.
"Sometimes the music is too loud for me, because we never had instruments at church when I went with you. I guess what really matter to me, though, is not so much for the form of the music but the soul of it.
"You asked me about the preacher and the preaching. Well, honestly, the preaching isn't as good as what I'm used to. Mainly because a lot of people who aren't "preachers" share their thoughts and their ideas, so since they aren't really "professionals" it is really informal and sometimes spontaneous. I guess what I like about this is that it seems real and authentic to me, more like a discussion in which I'm a part, involving me, talking to me and me with it.
"You also wanted to know about small groups and stuff like that. I know you'll be disappointed to know that we don't have those really. But when I went through a tough time with my job I had several friends come by and try to cheer me up. We talked about things and they told me that they were "there" for me. They didn't have to do that, though, because I knew that already just because they came to see me.
"Finally, you asked me about what kind of building we have. Again, you'll be disappointed in me when I tell you we don't have a building. We meet in a movie theater along with the leftover coke cups and candy wrappers. And, we aren't really thinking about a building because there are lots of people in our community in need and we want to be able to give to them when we can. We don't have a lot of "staff" (by now, you're probably really worried!) so our money can be used for things like the tsunamai victims and other global neighbors.
"Mom, Dad, I know that you are probably really disappointed in all this. You raised me to go to church three times a week and there were rules and a "way to do things". I guess though the thing that is most important to me is that when I hurt, people are there for me and when I celebrate people are there, too. And I get to be a part of their good and bad times too. I think that is what community is, doing "life" with people and letting them do "life" with you. I'm just not as good as you guys are at pretending and I really want just to be myself and have others just be OK with that.
"You've asked me in your letter about what I think God would think of my choice. I've thought about that question a lot. As I've thought about my new community of faith I see a lot of things that could be different. What I hope is that God sees that we really care about each other and hopefully, others who come into our midst can see that too. I think, Mom and Dad, that when I try to think about what God would want, from what I understand, is that God wants to see us love and accept each other in spite of stupid stuff that we sometimes do. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think that is more important than how good a sermon might be or how many classes we have.
"So thanks for writing. I know it's hard to see your kid make different decisions than you might make for him. Love, Your Son"
Monday, June 13, 2005
New tunes
I've been checking out some new music and found some great new bands (to me, anyway)..
Marc Broussard (www.islandrecords.com/markbroussard)
John Hiat (www.vanguardrecords.com/hiatt)
and my personal fave right now...Carbon Leaf (www.garageband.com/carbonleaf)
I really like the garagaband site...dedicated to independent artists who are bypassing more traditional music outlets. Carbon Leaf has this ether-music sound that I really "dig" (if I can use that word now that I'm 40). Hard to describe, must be experienced.
Marc Broussard (www.islandrecords.com/markbroussard)
John Hiat (www.vanguardrecords.com/hiatt)
and my personal fave right now...Carbon Leaf (www.garageband.com/carbonleaf)
I really like the garagaband site...dedicated to independent artists who are bypassing more traditional music outlets. Carbon Leaf has this ether-music sound that I really "dig" (if I can use that word now that I'm 40). Hard to describe, must be experienced.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
The Mike Tyson in all of us
"You're smart too late and old too soon," Tyson said. "I just got caught up in that suction cup. I feel like Rip Van Winkle right now."
Tyson reportedly earned $5 million of his last bout, which he ended early and then conceded. The purse will be doled out accordingly:
2 million to his creditors (he is over $4o million in debt)
2 million to the IRS
and $750,000 to his ex-wife.
I've read all the stories and seen with my own eyes the antics of this man who has been an amusement for the boxing world. But still, I feel for him.
Maybe you and I don't fight in boxing rings where we bite people's ears off for fun and profit. Maybe you and I don't sit with Barbara Walters with our (now) ex-wife and talk about how the relationship with our spouse has spiraled out of control. And maybe we don't return to the boxing ring and lose our dignity in front of thousands of unmerciful fans.
There's not much about a Mike Tyson that I'd want to emulate. But truth be known, I probably have more in common with him than I'd care to admit.
I don't take off ears in the boxing ring, but I am sure I've taken off a few heads in my ignorance and arrogance. I haven't been to divorce court but I've sure taken my hits in my own relationship with family members. And Lord knows I've paid more than my fair share to the IRS.
It would be too easy to laugh at a Mike Tyson or other celebritiesand hold myself above them. But I'm not. I'm just as capable of blowing my career, my marriage and my image as he is. And the thing is, most of the rest of us are, too.
Still, we like to look at celebrities and admire them when they are on top of the world...and chastise them when they are at the bottom.
I guess I've reached the point in my life that I have to say, "there but by the grace of God go I..." and really mean it.
So, Mikey, tough fight. I wish you well, man. But most of all, I wish you peace. The kind of peace that has to seep into old bones and make them new. The kind of peace that all of us are looking for no matter what kind of office we keep.
Tyson reportedly earned $5 million of his last bout, which he ended early and then conceded. The purse will be doled out accordingly:
2 million to his creditors (he is over $4o million in debt)
2 million to the IRS
and $750,000 to his ex-wife.
I've read all the stories and seen with my own eyes the antics of this man who has been an amusement for the boxing world. But still, I feel for him.
Maybe you and I don't fight in boxing rings where we bite people's ears off for fun and profit. Maybe you and I don't sit with Barbara Walters with our (now) ex-wife and talk about how the relationship with our spouse has spiraled out of control. And maybe we don't return to the boxing ring and lose our dignity in front of thousands of unmerciful fans.
There's not much about a Mike Tyson that I'd want to emulate. But truth be known, I probably have more in common with him than I'd care to admit.
I don't take off ears in the boxing ring, but I am sure I've taken off a few heads in my ignorance and arrogance. I haven't been to divorce court but I've sure taken my hits in my own relationship with family members. And Lord knows I've paid more than my fair share to the IRS.
It would be too easy to laugh at a Mike Tyson or other celebritiesand hold myself above them. But I'm not. I'm just as capable of blowing my career, my marriage and my image as he is. And the thing is, most of the rest of us are, too.
Still, we like to look at celebrities and admire them when they are on top of the world...and chastise them when they are at the bottom.
I guess I've reached the point in my life that I have to say, "there but by the grace of God go I..." and really mean it.
So, Mikey, tough fight. I wish you well, man. But most of all, I wish you peace. The kind of peace that has to seep into old bones and make them new. The kind of peace that all of us are looking for no matter what kind of office we keep.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Favorite Shows
I am not a TV watcher per se. I love great comedy so I adore the stand up on Comedy Central (most of the time). And I love "Law and Order". I think both great drama and great comedy has what writers must also have - great timing, a voice (or point of view) and the ability to tell great stories.
Tonight, I watched Chris Rock...which some would say is inappropriate with his four letter words (he's especially famous for lobbing the a few "F" bombs). I think his social commentary, through all the haze of his langauge, is on-target. In his most recent stand up he really nails marriage and relationships and I found myself laughing so hard that I could hardly breathe. I'm like, "Does this guy know relationships or what?"
I think that's what is great about comedy -- it can be so personal and so "right on" but it's trick is it makes you laugh at yourself. That's all it is...you watch this person and realize that he (or she) is talking about you and your crazy life. It's deeply personal and revealing.
Which is also what I love about great books, novels. Today, I picked up several of Joyce Carol Oates books that I have not yet read. I am reading "Zombie" and it is grossing me out. Not your average read.
The thing is, I can't read anything anymore like I use to! I read it now like I'm some editor looking for all the techniques that the writer is using. How does the author get this character in the car? How does the author move the characters through the paces of the story? What devices does the author use to create mood, atmosphere, tension? And now, I've started doing that with my favorite shows.
I watch for dialogue, tone, and all that stuff. It's a great way to learn the form of writing and its nuances, but I'll probably never read a book the same way again! And I love it.
I've written almost 15 pages of my current project and I'm having a blast working with an editor and learning how to write. I have so much to learn and I'm enjoying it immensely.
Tonight, I watched Chris Rock...which some would say is inappropriate with his four letter words (he's especially famous for lobbing the a few "F" bombs). I think his social commentary, through all the haze of his langauge, is on-target. In his most recent stand up he really nails marriage and relationships and I found myself laughing so hard that I could hardly breathe. I'm like, "Does this guy know relationships or what?"
I think that's what is great about comedy -- it can be so personal and so "right on" but it's trick is it makes you laugh at yourself. That's all it is...you watch this person and realize that he (or she) is talking about you and your crazy life. It's deeply personal and revealing.
Which is also what I love about great books, novels. Today, I picked up several of Joyce Carol Oates books that I have not yet read. I am reading "Zombie" and it is grossing me out. Not your average read.
The thing is, I can't read anything anymore like I use to! I read it now like I'm some editor looking for all the techniques that the writer is using. How does the author get this character in the car? How does the author move the characters through the paces of the story? What devices does the author use to create mood, atmosphere, tension? And now, I've started doing that with my favorite shows.
I watch for dialogue, tone, and all that stuff. It's a great way to learn the form of writing and its nuances, but I'll probably never read a book the same way again! And I love it.
I've written almost 15 pages of my current project and I'm having a blast working with an editor and learning how to write. I have so much to learn and I'm enjoying it immensely.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Surviving the Senior Picture Day
One day, $1,000.
That about sums up my day with my son after we tackled the senior pics and the summer band fee.
Wish I had as easy a gig as a photographer with a senior picture thing going. I'll probably get clobbered for saying this here but c'mon! Is there any more of a "sitting duck" than a mother, strung out because her first born baby boy is leaving the nest? You throw some great looking shots of his mug up on a big screen, play some sappy music and you've just made some easy cool cash.
I got through about two of the shots of my baby boy in a suit and I was a goner. Mascara smearing, snot running, heaving sobs. OK, I exaggerate...the mascara didn't smear too much, really, it was good stuff.
I have to give the photographer credit though, he took it all very well. I mean, if you are an artist and had someone sitting there who had never taken a picture of any quality telling you, "That one looks goofy.." when you know the lighting is perfect, the angle sublime...well, THAT tells me this guy has his ego in tact.
At one point I leaned over to him and said, "Y'know I'm not looking at your photos...I'm looking at pictures of my kid."
The photographer did a fabulous job capture Nathan's subtle, thoughtful, mischevious self. I tried to stay out of it as much as possible and let Nathan pick out the shots he most wanted. And here I have to give it up for Nathan..he was the perfect gentleman, even asking my opinion on a couple of shots. How can there ever be any bad shot of a mother's pride and joy?
That about sums up my day with my son after we tackled the senior pics and the summer band fee.
Wish I had as easy a gig as a photographer with a senior picture thing going. I'll probably get clobbered for saying this here but c'mon! Is there any more of a "sitting duck" than a mother, strung out because her first born baby boy is leaving the nest? You throw some great looking shots of his mug up on a big screen, play some sappy music and you've just made some easy cool cash.
I got through about two of the shots of my baby boy in a suit and I was a goner. Mascara smearing, snot running, heaving sobs. OK, I exaggerate...the mascara didn't smear too much, really, it was good stuff.
I have to give the photographer credit though, he took it all very well. I mean, if you are an artist and had someone sitting there who had never taken a picture of any quality telling you, "That one looks goofy.." when you know the lighting is perfect, the angle sublime...well, THAT tells me this guy has his ego in tact.
At one point I leaned over to him and said, "Y'know I'm not looking at your photos...I'm looking at pictures of my kid."
The photographer did a fabulous job capture Nathan's subtle, thoughtful, mischevious self. I tried to stay out of it as much as possible and let Nathan pick out the shots he most wanted. And here I have to give it up for Nathan..he was the perfect gentleman, even asking my opinion on a couple of shots. How can there ever be any bad shot of a mother's pride and joy?
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Gardener's Journal: After the transplant
It's leaves are brittle, brown and flaky. Even though I had put a stump beside it, the small tree drooped and was lifeless.
I kept watering it although I had little hope it would survive. It was a "volunteer" sprout which had shot up beside a stronger more steady tree. But the emerging root system was small and frail and transplanting did it in.
Today, I went out to take it out of its misery and remove it from view. I had put this off for several days, hoping that some sign of life would show itself and that I could keep it. I had big plans for it, since it was an oak sapling, that it would grow tall and shade the sunny side of our house. It was positioned just right and if it grew would be a beautiful specimen.
I had even gone so far as to plan other fall plantings around it, cultivating a theme with redbuds and evergreens to make a beautiful forest canopy.
Faithfully, each day I had watered it. Had refused to be daunted by its lack of life and its droopy shoulders.
But today it was clear, it would not be. So reluctantly, I went out shovel in hand, ready to do my deed.
As I neared it, I saw something. The tiny trunk was green. And just below all the crunchy, brown leaves there were small sprouting buds of new growth. I put my shovel down and ran to it..."you're alive" I cry, as if it could hear me.
I sat there on my knees for a bit just wondering how it could have fooled me so. Why had it waited so long to reveal itself? All along as I had been waiting, it had given no sign of life, no sign of anything. It was saving itself, waiting for the mystical combination of light, water and nutrients before it made its big debut.
Saving itself for more life later. Resting before reappearing. Emerging just when all hope might be gone.
A new tree, a new life...are they so different? Isn't the hardest part the "in-between" times of leaving and regrowth? Aren't the times when it appears no life is present just about the time when life and grace appear? And isn't in those times when my heart and soul cry out for some sign of life, of hope?
For some lives are like some trees. They cannot stay in the shadow of the established parent. They cannot flourish when competing with another's roots. They cannot reach to the heavens when their branches are tangling for sustenance, growth.
Tomorrow I will water my new tree again. I will not be so quick to give up life. I will not so soon cry "death" when I have seen the emergence of life in a translant.
I kept watering it although I had little hope it would survive. It was a "volunteer" sprout which had shot up beside a stronger more steady tree. But the emerging root system was small and frail and transplanting did it in.
Today, I went out to take it out of its misery and remove it from view. I had put this off for several days, hoping that some sign of life would show itself and that I could keep it. I had big plans for it, since it was an oak sapling, that it would grow tall and shade the sunny side of our house. It was positioned just right and if it grew would be a beautiful specimen.
I had even gone so far as to plan other fall plantings around it, cultivating a theme with redbuds and evergreens to make a beautiful forest canopy.
Faithfully, each day I had watered it. Had refused to be daunted by its lack of life and its droopy shoulders.
But today it was clear, it would not be. So reluctantly, I went out shovel in hand, ready to do my deed.
As I neared it, I saw something. The tiny trunk was green. And just below all the crunchy, brown leaves there were small sprouting buds of new growth. I put my shovel down and ran to it..."you're alive" I cry, as if it could hear me.
I sat there on my knees for a bit just wondering how it could have fooled me so. Why had it waited so long to reveal itself? All along as I had been waiting, it had given no sign of life, no sign of anything. It was saving itself, waiting for the mystical combination of light, water and nutrients before it made its big debut.
Saving itself for more life later. Resting before reappearing. Emerging just when all hope might be gone.
A new tree, a new life...are they so different? Isn't the hardest part the "in-between" times of leaving and regrowth? Aren't the times when it appears no life is present just about the time when life and grace appear? And isn't in those times when my heart and soul cry out for some sign of life, of hope?
For some lives are like some trees. They cannot stay in the shadow of the established parent. They cannot flourish when competing with another's roots. They cannot reach to the heavens when their branches are tangling for sustenance, growth.
Tomorrow I will water my new tree again. I will not be so quick to give up life. I will not so soon cry "death" when I have seen the emergence of life in a translant.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
New photo album
With the idea that no one can have too many web sites, I have discovered a new way to
display and record photos...I've posted those that have been previously here at my site into one concise place. http://maurietray.phanfare.com
This blog will remain my main "brain dump" for ideas and writings, when I'm not involved with novel writing, essays. Writing is taking more and more of my time and I love it! It is becoming more a part of my life and I'm finding it both a source of pleasure and comfort.
Kathleen Brehony says that in mid-life, those artistic parts of ourselves that we may have overlooked up until now, those dormant sides of ourselves that we push down so that we can get on with the "business" of life, emerge powerfully strong. She believes from her book, "Awakening at Midlife" that it is these strong, artistic and very vital qualities that render us hopelessly lost if we fail to recognize their power.
Over the past several weeks I have been working with some ideas about my writing. It is all very new and yet very old, too. I've been writing most of my life, just never really focused my efforts much. I have had to yield over the past few months to that calling, regardless if it leads me to a book deal or just leads me to myself, more whole and more at one with myself.
display and record photos...I've posted those that have been previously here at my site into one concise place. http://maurietray.phanfare.com
This blog will remain my main "brain dump" for ideas and writings, when I'm not involved with novel writing, essays. Writing is taking more and more of my time and I love it! It is becoming more a part of my life and I'm finding it both a source of pleasure and comfort.
Kathleen Brehony says that in mid-life, those artistic parts of ourselves that we may have overlooked up until now, those dormant sides of ourselves that we push down so that we can get on with the "business" of life, emerge powerfully strong. She believes from her book, "Awakening at Midlife" that it is these strong, artistic and very vital qualities that render us hopelessly lost if we fail to recognize their power.
Over the past several weeks I have been working with some ideas about my writing. It is all very new and yet very old, too. I've been writing most of my life, just never really focused my efforts much. I have had to yield over the past few months to that calling, regardless if it leads me to a book deal or just leads me to myself, more whole and more at one with myself.
Cinderella Man
Grabbed the late show last night with high expectations of the new Ron Howard film, "Cinderella Man" starring Russell Crowe, Renee Zelleweger and Paul Giamatti.
Ron Howard is a superb storytelling and creates a mood from the opening scenes. He seems to understand the role of music so very well. Often when I'm watching his films I notice the music as overall part of the experience, but it doesn't distract from the story itself. I think this subtelty is what makes Ron Howard's films so good -- he understands the importance of a subtle suggestion in a look, a gesture, an accent, a note.
Russell Crowe plays "Jim Braddock", a real life depression-era story of a boxer down on his luck. It's also a love story between Jim and his wife Mae (played by Rene Zelleweger). Finally, there are other supporting roles and relationships that fill out the film making it another -- what no doubt will be - -a box office hit. Crowe has made a career out of being the guy that everyone bets against (Gladiator, Master and Commander) and proves them wrong. His ability to look down trodden and beten wtih dignity are what make him one of Hollywood's most bankable actors.
Paul Giamatti, who plays Braddock's manager/trainer, is the real hero of this film. Masterfully, he creates the iconic image of the depression-era business man. Through Giamatti, Howard weaves the parallel images of two men, caught in the turmoil of the depression, living out their individual lives in the best way they know how. Giammati is one of those actors that you just want to get to know...his eyes give his performances soul and his ability to create the persona of Joe Gould particularly reels you in for the ride. In short, I think his performance is the best of those in the movie.
Howard also seems to understand the powerful connections between people and it is those relationships that give the story sustenance and power. The main characters are held in check, per se, by the strong performances of other characters who provide the life and the fabric of a life, in this scenario, the life of JimBraddock.
Overall, I was disappointed in this film. The trailer is superbly done and I walked into the theater expecting to laugh and cry and do all those things that movies do. I did a little of both but the film seemed to lose its timing somehow and I got lost a couple of times in all the hitting and punching.
I'd see the movie again on a rainy Sunday afternoon, cuddled in my easy chair just for to watch Giamatti at his craft.
Ron Howard is a superb storytelling and creates a mood from the opening scenes. He seems to understand the role of music so very well. Often when I'm watching his films I notice the music as overall part of the experience, but it doesn't distract from the story itself. I think this subtelty is what makes Ron Howard's films so good -- he understands the importance of a subtle suggestion in a look, a gesture, an accent, a note.
Russell Crowe plays "Jim Braddock", a real life depression-era story of a boxer down on his luck. It's also a love story between Jim and his wife Mae (played by Rene Zelleweger). Finally, there are other supporting roles and relationships that fill out the film making it another -- what no doubt will be - -a box office hit. Crowe has made a career out of being the guy that everyone bets against (Gladiator, Master and Commander) and proves them wrong. His ability to look down trodden and beten wtih dignity are what make him one of Hollywood's most bankable actors.
Paul Giamatti, who plays Braddock's manager/trainer, is the real hero of this film. Masterfully, he creates the iconic image of the depression-era business man. Through Giamatti, Howard weaves the parallel images of two men, caught in the turmoil of the depression, living out their individual lives in the best way they know how. Giammati is one of those actors that you just want to get to know...his eyes give his performances soul and his ability to create the persona of Joe Gould particularly reels you in for the ride. In short, I think his performance is the best of those in the movie.
Howard also seems to understand the powerful connections between people and it is those relationships that give the story sustenance and power. The main characters are held in check, per se, by the strong performances of other characters who provide the life and the fabric of a life, in this scenario, the life of JimBraddock.
Overall, I was disappointed in this film. The trailer is superbly done and I walked into the theater expecting to laugh and cry and do all those things that movies do. I did a little of both but the film seemed to lose its timing somehow and I got lost a couple of times in all the hitting and punching.
I'd see the movie again on a rainy Sunday afternoon, cuddled in my easy chair just for to watch Giamatti at his craft.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Slogger, Blogger
I've been chastized on two accounts for my lack of blogging. And they are are right to do so, for blogging is a way that I get into my writing, sort out ideas and basically think on paper.
There are two reasons why I've been a blog slacker...one -- I've been working on a new area of writing that is, learning how to develop characters. Since I am often referred to as a "character" then it would seem not a hard proposition for me to come up with some of my own. And actually that is true, I am finding it rewarding to think about what a character has for breakfast, how many tattoes they may or may not have, and what their ethnicity may be.
In fact, I'm finding it so rewarding that I've now created several characters and they have this little life that I've created for them. Their names will remain anonymous right now, because, who knows, I might change their names. What power a writer must wield, to create these entire realities simply by a few keystrokes and some ideas.
The other reason I've been a slacker on the blogging is simply this -- I've been working on what some might call my "real job" that is, finishing out a fiscal year end and starting a new. This always is somewhat of a reality check -- did certain goals get met? If so, why or why not? This requires a good deal of personal introspection and a good deal of personal honesty.
Now a "seasoned" veteran in the world of sales, I find that my goals and my aspirations are changing significantly. There are new reasons why I want to achieve certain things and there are old goals that, while they may be important, do not hold the same charm for me as they may have. I don't consider this failure...I consider this maturation.
I think what I'm talking about here is the idea that sucess -- and one's definition of it -- are constantly fluid, or should be. After all, when I was 7 I wanted to be Carol Burnett. Thank goodnes some goals and dreams do pass on! For there can only be one Carol Burnett, and I'm not here.
Which leads me to what I believe is a better definition of success -- at least for me. It has nothing to do with the scoreboard or how much money one can make. There must be more dimensions of success than those scoreboards. There must be more than a dollar figure put upon someone's worth to humanity and to those around them. At least, for me, I'm learning, there must be more to it than that.
I'm not saying that one should become a boehemian and live their life on the lam and shun all things material. This is not a "sour grapes" treatise that is replacing personal failure with some type of manifesto for better living. It is, I think, a mid-life correction that simply says, life is shorter now than ever and what you do with it matters. Or at least it should.
There are two reasons why I've been a blog slacker...one -- I've been working on a new area of writing that is, learning how to develop characters. Since I am often referred to as a "character" then it would seem not a hard proposition for me to come up with some of my own. And actually that is true, I am finding it rewarding to think about what a character has for breakfast, how many tattoes they may or may not have, and what their ethnicity may be.
In fact, I'm finding it so rewarding that I've now created several characters and they have this little life that I've created for them. Their names will remain anonymous right now, because, who knows, I might change their names. What power a writer must wield, to create these entire realities simply by a few keystrokes and some ideas.
The other reason I've been a slacker on the blogging is simply this -- I've been working on what some might call my "real job" that is, finishing out a fiscal year end and starting a new. This always is somewhat of a reality check -- did certain goals get met? If so, why or why not? This requires a good deal of personal introspection and a good deal of personal honesty.
Now a "seasoned" veteran in the world of sales, I find that my goals and my aspirations are changing significantly. There are new reasons why I want to achieve certain things and there are old goals that, while they may be important, do not hold the same charm for me as they may have. I don't consider this failure...I consider this maturation.
I think what I'm talking about here is the idea that sucess -- and one's definition of it -- are constantly fluid, or should be. After all, when I was 7 I wanted to be Carol Burnett. Thank goodnes some goals and dreams do pass on! For there can only be one Carol Burnett, and I'm not here.
Which leads me to what I believe is a better definition of success -- at least for me. It has nothing to do with the scoreboard or how much money one can make. There must be more dimensions of success than those scoreboards. There must be more than a dollar figure put upon someone's worth to humanity and to those around them. At least, for me, I'm learning, there must be more to it than that.
I'm not saying that one should become a boehemian and live their life on the lam and shun all things material. This is not a "sour grapes" treatise that is replacing personal failure with some type of manifesto for better living. It is, I think, a mid-life correction that simply says, life is shorter now than ever and what you do with it matters. Or at least it should.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Garage Sale Days
Ellen is having a garage sale today. She decided that she could make some money for summer this way and I was glad to have her take some of the things we have around the house.
It's not even noon and she's already sold over $900.
It's humbling to see one's possessions assembled, marked and offered for resale. There is a sense of ending and beginnings in a garage sale like this. The bedspread that I had specially made for Ellen when she was 6 is now going for $5. Nathan's soccer pic that I spent days selecting the frame will go for less than $10. And books -- many books that I've read and now have on tape or on audible are going for pennies on the dollar.
Still, it's a sense of relief to move on past the middle school years into the full throttle of high school and beyond. We are chucking the bicycles to make way for the cars. We're selling the VCR so that the DVD's will have more room. The cassette tapes? Some antique dealer will make a killing.
Life marches on and on and on and we hear the cadence, pick up the drum, march along to the beat.
We have less than three years left to "raise" our kids. The truth is, they are already raised, it's just the feeding and caring for them that we are doing now. The foundations are poured, the paths are forged and we're moving to higher ground.
It's not even noon and she's already sold over $900.
It's humbling to see one's possessions assembled, marked and offered for resale. There is a sense of ending and beginnings in a garage sale like this. The bedspread that I had specially made for Ellen when she was 6 is now going for $5. Nathan's soccer pic that I spent days selecting the frame will go for less than $10. And books -- many books that I've read and now have on tape or on audible are going for pennies on the dollar.
Still, it's a sense of relief to move on past the middle school years into the full throttle of high school and beyond. We are chucking the bicycles to make way for the cars. We're selling the VCR so that the DVD's will have more room. The cassette tapes? Some antique dealer will make a killing.
Life marches on and on and on and we hear the cadence, pick up the drum, march along to the beat.
We have less than three years left to "raise" our kids. The truth is, they are already raised, it's just the feeding and caring for them that we are doing now. The foundations are poured, the paths are forged and we're moving to higher ground.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Gardner's Journal: "rock" music
When you mention the word "garden" most people think of the plants: the flowers, the shrubs, the grasses. Most don't consider the "hardscaping" a part of the garden, but it is an essential part. In fact, it provides the structure and the design of how everything "holds" together...it is a container for what you see.
In essence, planting is only a small part of the garden and the chores of having a garden. It's the fun part and the more "glamorous" part but its not what keeps a garden looking great. The garden has to have good bones and that is hardscaping -- arbors, bridges, gazebos, fences, pathways.
We built a pergola last year and I stained it a musky gray. At first, I was unsure about the color but this year the gray is stunning and restrained against the power of all that yellow that is there. And this year, we added a new feature: a rock speaker.
I know, it sounds really corny. It may well end up in some future garage sale. But for this year, I love it.
In the mornings, I switch the cable station onto what some call "new age" music. After my run, I head to the back yard where the main garden is, and I water, weed, and listen to music.
The speaker is wireless and it creates an ethereal mood. Sometimes, with the morning light and the music, the mood in the pergola is a mystical mix of chords, light and rhythm. It is a beautiful place to think, to ponder, to pray.
In the evenings, we find ourselves drawn again to that space where the long shadows of evening begin to reach their fingers across us. When it's hot, we hook the hose up to the "mist maker" that we've tacked around the upper beams and enjoy a cool mist.
Sometimes, though, I have to turn the station to the "rock" station so I can hear Eric Clapton, Aerosmith, Foreigner and other great classic rock songs of my youth. My kids look at me in disbelief when I hear "Freebird" come on and have to get up and play my air guitar. "This, " I say, "This is WHAT I'm talkin' about!" is what I say when "Stairway to Heaven" comes on.
That's OK. Everyone needs stories about their crazy parents to tell their friends.
In essence, planting is only a small part of the garden and the chores of having a garden. It's the fun part and the more "glamorous" part but its not what keeps a garden looking great. The garden has to have good bones and that is hardscaping -- arbors, bridges, gazebos, fences, pathways.
We built a pergola last year and I stained it a musky gray. At first, I was unsure about the color but this year the gray is stunning and restrained against the power of all that yellow that is there. And this year, we added a new feature: a rock speaker.
I know, it sounds really corny. It may well end up in some future garage sale. But for this year, I love it.
In the mornings, I switch the cable station onto what some call "new age" music. After my run, I head to the back yard where the main garden is, and I water, weed, and listen to music.
The speaker is wireless and it creates an ethereal mood. Sometimes, with the morning light and the music, the mood in the pergola is a mystical mix of chords, light and rhythm. It is a beautiful place to think, to ponder, to pray.
In the evenings, we find ourselves drawn again to that space where the long shadows of evening begin to reach their fingers across us. When it's hot, we hook the hose up to the "mist maker" that we've tacked around the upper beams and enjoy a cool mist.
Sometimes, though, I have to turn the station to the "rock" station so I can hear Eric Clapton, Aerosmith, Foreigner and other great classic rock songs of my youth. My kids look at me in disbelief when I hear "Freebird" come on and have to get up and play my air guitar. "This, " I say, "This is WHAT I'm talkin' about!" is what I say when "Stairway to Heaven" comes on.
That's OK. Everyone needs stories about their crazy parents to tell their friends.
Monday, May 23, 2005
Gardner's Journal: Making Peace with Unfinished
It's driving me crazy. It's just lying there, open, vacant, ready.
I've removed all the weeds that I can see, but millions are still in there just waiting for the right mixture of sun and water. After making my crips outline, I then bury the newly thatched dirt under black coverings, where it will sleep until Fall.
I can see in my mind the garden that will go there. I see the water feature that will grace the wall and I see the gravel and the container plants. This garden will have a mediterranean or old world feel, which will be perfect for the location: South side of a brick home.
But for now, the plans for this garden will lay under wraps, shrouded in darkness, like black tombs awaiting some resurrection.
I find myself thinking, "maybe it wouldn't hurt...just an evergreen, or two.." But I know I am kidding myself. I wouldn't stop at one, just like those potato commericals from years ago.
No, for now I must sit and wait and ponder, drawing out the designs on my pad and retracing them in my head. Gardening isn't for sissies and it sure isn't for impatient sissies. I stand at the corner of the garden, thinking, imagining. Do I strip off the veil, go to work, make this idea of mine alive?
It's tough stuff, this waiting. Like a nothingness that hangs over you, fooling you into thinking that nothing really worth doing is going on. Yet it is in this waiting that all things of value come into being. In the business world, time and patience are virtues, too. Mortages mature, bonds come to be due, loans reach their end. What started out as a small thing become bigger, larger, more full. "In due course.." legal ease reads.
But I won't lie..I don't like this waiting stuff. I'm impatient to see the results of my ideas, my designs. I want to check it off my list, show it off to my friends, say "i'm done" and move on.
But that, there, is the thing. Moving on doesn't mean finished. Moving on means letting time take its course. It's nurturing, healing, wonderful course.
And so I wait, swinging in my swing, impatient to start. What I am coming to understand, waiting is starting.
I've removed all the weeds that I can see, but millions are still in there just waiting for the right mixture of sun and water. After making my crips outline, I then bury the newly thatched dirt under black coverings, where it will sleep until Fall.
I can see in my mind the garden that will go there. I see the water feature that will grace the wall and I see the gravel and the container plants. This garden will have a mediterranean or old world feel, which will be perfect for the location: South side of a brick home.
But for now, the plans for this garden will lay under wraps, shrouded in darkness, like black tombs awaiting some resurrection.
I find myself thinking, "maybe it wouldn't hurt...just an evergreen, or two.." But I know I am kidding myself. I wouldn't stop at one, just like those potato commericals from years ago.
No, for now I must sit and wait and ponder, drawing out the designs on my pad and retracing them in my head. Gardening isn't for sissies and it sure isn't for impatient sissies. I stand at the corner of the garden, thinking, imagining. Do I strip off the veil, go to work, make this idea of mine alive?
It's tough stuff, this waiting. Like a nothingness that hangs over you, fooling you into thinking that nothing really worth doing is going on. Yet it is in this waiting that all things of value come into being. In the business world, time and patience are virtues, too. Mortages mature, bonds come to be due, loans reach their end. What started out as a small thing become bigger, larger, more full. "In due course.." legal ease reads.
But I won't lie..I don't like this waiting stuff. I'm impatient to see the results of my ideas, my designs. I want to check it off my list, show it off to my friends, say "i'm done" and move on.
But that, there, is the thing. Moving on doesn't mean finished. Moving on means letting time take its course. It's nurturing, healing, wonderful course.
And so I wait, swinging in my swing, impatient to start. What I am coming to understand, waiting is starting.
"The bleep" continues
Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.- Carl Gustav Jung
The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.- Oscar Wilde
We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.- T. S. Eliot
Below is an excerpt found at www.whatthebleep.com of the most meaningful part of the film for me.
Create My Day - (Dr. Joe Dispenza in What the BLEEP Do We Know!?TM)
The most often referenced interview in the film is Dr. Joe Dispenza's comments on creating his day. In response to the numerous requests, the following is the transcript of that part of the interview.
"I wake up in the morning and I consciously create my day the way I want it to happen. Now sometimes, because my mind is examining all the things that I need to get done, it takes me a little bit to settle down and get to the point of where I'm actually intentionally creating my day. But here's the thing: When I create my day and out of nowhere little things happen that are so unexplainable, I know that they are the process or the result of my creation. And the more I do that, the more I build a neural net in my brain that I accept that that's possible. (This) gives me the power and the incentive to do it the next day. "So if we're consciously designing our destiny, and if we're consciously from a spiritual standpoint throwing in with the idea that our thoughts can affect our reality or affect our life -- because reality equals life -- then I have this little pact that I have when I create my day. I say, 'I'm taking this time to create my day and I'm infecting the quantum field. Now if (it) is in fact the observer's watching me the whole time that I'm doing this and there is a spiritual aspect to myself, then show me a sign today that you paid attention to any one of these things that I created, and bring them in a way that I won't expect, so I'm as surprised at my ability to be able to experience these things. And make it so that I have no doubt that it's come from you,' and so I live my life, in a sense, all day long thinking about being a genius or thinking about being the glory and the power of God or thinking about being unconditional love.
"I'll use living as a genius, for example. And as I do that during parts of the day, I'll have thoughts that are so amazing, that cause a chill in my physical body, that have come from nowhere. But then I remember that that thought has an associated energy that's produced an effect in my physical body. Now that's a subjective experience, but the truth is is that I don't think that unless I was creating my day to have unlimited thought, that that thought would come."
(Dr. Joe Dispenza in What the BLEEP Do We Know!?TM)
At this point, I'm still ruminating and thinking on this fabulous film -- I don't really have anything profound to say. I'm thinking so hard it makes my head hurt.
The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.- Oscar Wilde
We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.- T. S. Eliot
Below is an excerpt found at www.whatthebleep.com of the most meaningful part of the film for me.
Create My Day - (Dr. Joe Dispenza in What the BLEEP Do We Know!?TM)
The most often referenced interview in the film is Dr. Joe Dispenza's comments on creating his day. In response to the numerous requests, the following is the transcript of that part of the interview.
"I wake up in the morning and I consciously create my day the way I want it to happen. Now sometimes, because my mind is examining all the things that I need to get done, it takes me a little bit to settle down and get to the point of where I'm actually intentionally creating my day. But here's the thing: When I create my day and out of nowhere little things happen that are so unexplainable, I know that they are the process or the result of my creation. And the more I do that, the more I build a neural net in my brain that I accept that that's possible. (This) gives me the power and the incentive to do it the next day. "So if we're consciously designing our destiny, and if we're consciously from a spiritual standpoint throwing in with the idea that our thoughts can affect our reality or affect our life -- because reality equals life -- then I have this little pact that I have when I create my day. I say, 'I'm taking this time to create my day and I'm infecting the quantum field. Now if (it) is in fact the observer's watching me the whole time that I'm doing this and there is a spiritual aspect to myself, then show me a sign today that you paid attention to any one of these things that I created, and bring them in a way that I won't expect, so I'm as surprised at my ability to be able to experience these things. And make it so that I have no doubt that it's come from you,' and so I live my life, in a sense, all day long thinking about being a genius or thinking about being the glory and the power of God or thinking about being unconditional love.
"I'll use living as a genius, for example. And as I do that during parts of the day, I'll have thoughts that are so amazing, that cause a chill in my physical body, that have come from nowhere. But then I remember that that thought has an associated energy that's produced an effect in my physical body. Now that's a subjective experience, but the truth is is that I don't think that unless I was creating my day to have unlimited thought, that that thought would come."
(Dr. Joe Dispenza in What the BLEEP Do We Know!?TM)
At this point, I'm still ruminating and thinking on this fabulous film -- I don't really have anything profound to say. I'm thinking so hard it makes my head hurt.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
"What the BLEEP do we know?"
In two different conversations, I've had two different people mention to me what they learned from the film "What the Bleep Do We Know?" (ASIN: B0006UEVQ8 ) . There is so much that I'd like to share about this film, yet I find that I'm still processing it. If you haven't seen it, you must! It's creative, thought-provoking and helpful. I'll post more on it as I think through it.
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