Slow the Fuck Down

I walked over to Safeway yesterday at 4:30 to pick up some rice for risotto.  Walking home, I almost became a statistic...walking with the light, crossing 19th street and a car turning left from S street came within 12 inches of mowing me down! I wish I'd had a cane or a heavy metal object to throw at her, but instead I thrust out my left arm to yell "whoa whoa whoa!" (it's an all purpose magic chant) and took a few hops to get outta the way. She realized at the last moment what she had done and swerved a tad in order to miss hitting me. But she didn't even put on her breaks. Oh universe, please take care of this woman, she needs to slow the fuck down.

She was, no doubt, distracted.  Thinking about her lousy job, or what she was going to feed the kids for dinner tonight, or...or....  The look on her face when she finally saw me (I was almost on her hood) showed her utter shock.  I was too preoccupied with my brush with death to feel any sympathy for her at that moment, but I did afterward.  I was also quite shaken myself, experiencing a pounding heart and abundant gratitude that I was not lying in the street cursing my need for rice on this day.... 

Google "pedestrian dies" and you'll see a long list of statistics.  Luckily, and thankfully, I am not on that list.

Wicked

Tales abound from my friends in the northeast.  This latest snowstorm is a big one, with folks pretty much trapped in their homes for the next few days.  Isn't this a gorgeous photo of Central Park during a wicked storm?

Photo credit, http://tv.msnbc.com/2013/02/09/the-winter-storm-nemo-blasts-through-east-coast/#jp-carousel-74469

I am also trapped at home, felled by a cold.  Drinking lots of Throat Coat tea and Alka Seltzer Cold Plus.  The song comes to mind, "My head hurts, my feet stink, and don't love Jesus."  Extra points if you can tell me who sang that.  The other song that comes to mind is, "Plop plop fizz fizz oh what a relief it is."

Nevertheless, life is good, and will soon return to normal when this bug works its way through.  I'll be back at the pool, back to my strolls around midtown and by the river, back to socializing and singing.  Dum anima est, spes est.  Extra extra points if you can tell me who said that.  Some of my readers are wicked smart and I will no doubt have my answers in short order.

Meanwhile, I'm turning off the computer and pulling the covers over my aching head.  Hope you are doing a helluva lot better than I am.

Sunday...Again

Someone from Santa Cruz is obsessed with my blog.  Just sayin'.

And for all you football fans, enjoy the game today.  I shall be happily playing with my grandson!

The 100

I applied to take part in a photo project called The 100, and found out today that I've been selected.   They are giving away 100 disposable cameras to individuals aged 1 year to 100 years.  We are to photograph a week of our lives and send in to the site.  There are many folks who have completed the project, but I just heard about it recently.

I love reading the biographies of the people around the globe, and seeing the world through their eyes.  I have no idea what I will photograph...well, okay, I do have some ideas:

• My Sunday morning pals at the breakfast group, if they'll agree;
• My family, if they'll agree;
• My walks around Sacramento;
• Artistic and tasteful nudes of my girlfriend (but she'll never let me)
• The glorious food I eat at places like Revolution Wines, The Porch, The Queen of Sheba.  Hmmm.  Budget dictates I pick one of those, not all three.

Oh, I don't know.  I don't know how many frames are available on said camera.

I submitted this photo of myself and answered a few questions that are, of course, impossible to answer, i.e. What one thing are you most proud of in your life?  One thing?  Most?  Proud? Of?

In the end I settled on my resilience. 

How about you?  What would you say is the ONE thing you are most proud of in your life so far?  Can you possibly narrow it down?

Also, check out the project, and maybe you'll be inspired to apply if they don't have someone from your age group.  It would be fun to have you join us!  And Robin, they need someone aged 60.  Just saying.

The Power of Vulnerability

I found a blog late last night as I was 'google-ing' "love poems of Pablo Neruda."  Yes, it was another insomniac night.  Anyway, my point here is not to bemoan my lack of sleep, but instead to celebrate quite a find (for me) in this TED talk.  I don't know about you, but I've heard some brilliant ideas expressed at these talks, and I love to listen when I am in the mood.  This particular talk feels heaven sent (if I can guess there is a heaven-like place or state of mind or....).  Why?  Because just this very topic, these ideas, have been in my face as I enter a new love relationship.  When you have time, and are in the mood, take a listen to this delightful, funny, intelligent researcher (you'll get the joke if you listen).  And I would love to know how you respond to her story.  It seems to me to be the most important story we could hear today. 



Have a fabulous weekend -- you are worthy of it!

It's Where You Go From Here that Matters

Perhaps you have heard this "You Are Not Special" high school graduation speech.  Here is the transcript.  It is an inspiring speech that all new parents should listen to.  That one could be called, "You are Not Our Little Miracle."  There are little miracles born every day, get over it.

Despite what you might think, the message is not hopelessness, rather, it is an explanation of the rich and complex world we live it and how best to use this life we have been given.  It is a wake-up call to young adults who have been the center of their parents' universe for 18 years and must now make a life for themselves.  I see so many young people suffering from severe arrested development, aided in large part by their parents.  I wonder how they can stand still living in the family home?

At 18 I wanted out so badly -- it was in my thoughts every day: what I would do with this life of mine, how I would make my way in this world without my parents standing by, without my siblings bickering.  Just me and my friends, exploring what this life had to offer.  We shared houses together in order to live more cheaply, and for the companionship.  We groped around our love lives and made some pretty bad choices there, often with just about everyone in our small social group.

I, ever the independent one, learned how to fix my plumbing when it needed it, knew my way around a car engine, could change the tire on my 10-speed Peugeot, and even made a decent but crude dining room table for our communal house.  I got to work by bus, rising early in order to be at the restaurant for my 7 am shift.  I rode my bike to the movie theater where I worked at night, and would ride home from that spot on Cannery Row at 1 or 2 a.m., dodging the dodgy late night/early morning crawlers.

I didn't know where I was going with my life.  I often felt lost and untethered.  So I read.  I read a lot.  And I talked to others about the books we read.  There were signposts there, cautionary tales, and glimpses of what could be. 

Another thing: We fairly reveled in our poverty.  We aspired to be as self-sufficient as we could; we bought clothes at the Goodwill or other thrift stores, we sewed curtains for the house, we ate vegetarian because it was cheaper than buying meat, we found our entertainment in hiking in the mountains or playing music together.  We had our shoes resoled for chrissake.  Positively depression era sensibilities.

Of course we thought we were special.  But we didn't expect anyone else to think likewise.  And we were making a life, encountering the vicissitudes that come naturally to living beings.

If I had a message to young graduates, it would be very much like this: you learn by doing, you grow from putting yourself into unfamiliar territory, life hurts sometimes but you get over it (hell, you even learn to laugh about it), small baby steps are the way to go.  Go easy on yourself, just go.  Do something.  If a paying job eludes you now, volunteer.  Get out into the world.  Say 'adios' to your childhood home and step into the void.  Si, se puede.  Ahora.

Eclipse

We had to take our eyes away from the televised baseball game, but we did indeed follow yesterday's eclipse.  Ever the improvisers, we put a pin hole through an old index card and projected the shadow onto our wall.  When you live with the older set, you find relics like index cards.  And the occasional carbon paper.

There were all the requisite jokes -- were we supposed to sacrifice the youngest female in the room or the youngest male?  Or perhaps the entire group of us were to go down to save the human race.

So relieved that today we can experience an eclipse without all the bloodshed and loss of life.

What I really enjoyed was going outside to gaze at familiar sights in the half-light.  What an eerie experience.  It was also fun to watch the neighbors spill out of doors with their various gadgets to observe this phenomenon.  We are still captivated by naturally occurring events that are completely beyond our control.  To me, this is a very good thing.

Agony and Ectasy

Francisco Seco | AP

Ok, maybe I'm promoting the stereotype of the happy peasant, but really, I would rather be this guy taking a snooze on a pile of watermelons than this Portuguese woman who is watching her stock portfolio tank.  Then again, fast forward to their elder years...she is likely to be better off financially than he.  Who will be a position to comfortably lie back and enjoy an afternoon nap then? 

Rajesh Kumar Singh | AP

Use it or Lose It

Everything in your life is there as a vehicle for your transformation. Use it! 

Ram Dass

Thank you, you glorious fellow!  Ram Dass just keeps on keeping on.  He practices the things he talks about, he keeps on teaching with his life as the instrument, his physical obstacles as opportunities for further growth.  His heart is wide open, for his benefit and for ours. You can find his web page here.   I read his first book, Be Here Now while in high school in the mid-seventies.  He is still relevant today, for oldies like me, and young folks alike.  In 2001 he made a  video called Fierce Grace, which I love so much I purchased a copy for myself. I watch it when I need to be reminded of the glory of love and human existence.  

Who inspires and lifts you up?

Full Disclosure

When you are dating someone new, what is the right time to reveal all your medical issues? My lady friend and I had a spectacular tour of the Amador wine country this weekend, and I couldn't avoid the fact that I am hooked up to an insulin pump. So, I just pulled it out and showed her, and let her know I would be taking my blood glucose on my little machine, and dialing in my insulin needs on my pump. To her credit: she didn't flinch. Granted, it's not like revealing you are schizophrenic, and the pill you are popping is keeping you from acting a bit, uh, schizophrenic.  But still, it's something.

Then, tooling down the road in the beautiful emerald green hills, I had to take a hit on my inhaler because the countryside was blooming robustly and my asthma was kicking in.  Two down, many more to go.

We stopped at a winery that had Mariachi playing, and great Mexican food.  I passed on the quesadillas because the gooey tortilla is not absorbed well by my altered stomach, which has a plastic band around it that restricts my food intake.  I passed on the opportunity to tell her I used to weigh 100 pounds more than I do now, all credit due to my gastric surgery.  I figure that will come up another time.

I did tell her, however, that I was having a gell injected into my knee joint today, to stave off pain from arthritis that is the result of a traumatic knee injury 8 years ago.  This gave her the opportunity to tell me she had blown out her knee in a skiing accident, and that she crushed her elbow joint when she fell off a ladder a few years ago.

I guess most of us don't get to our mid-fifties without a few hiccups in the health department.  Still, I don't want to give the impression that I am broken.  Because I am not. 

The gell injection went well -  my orthopedist is a pro and made it as comfortable as humanly possible.  I used my usual good humor and deep deep breathing exercises to get through the procedure.  He said I was a real "trooper."  That I am.  And that's what my date needs to know about me.  I come.  I see.  I conquer.  I rise like a phoenix.    And I smile like the dickens when life is good.

Home

As the completion of the new house draws near, I am experiencing moving-in dreams.  Not content to dream of this particular house, my subconscious  is constructing scenarios of houses located next to crashing surf; houses in open fields; houses under water.  I am frantically directing the movers to place this here and that there.  I am not sure that these placements are at all right, but I don't have time or energy to work it all out -- and there's no need to drive the workers crazy with my indecision.

If I remember correctly from my Jung reading, water in dreams often represent the feminine, the intuitive and the emotional.  Houses often reflect the psyche.

I'd say that my dreams are pulling from my fretting about the logistics of moving, as well as contemplation of my new, permanent home.  I've been living in a state of suspended animation for 10 months, first at my parents', then in this apartment with my parents.  Most of my material possessions are either with my former wife (now they are my former possessions) or in a storage locker.  I'm tired of this temporary existence, and want some of my life back, in the form of familiar furniture, artwork and nick-nacks.

I've moved a lot in the last decade.  Living in rental homes is a tenuous business, subject to the personal and economic decisions of others.  I've become emotionally invested in the homes I've lived in.  I've made a lot of improvements to the properties I temporarily inhabited.  Then, like an unfixed sand painting, it's gone.  I must begin again.

Fiat Lux

I experience this emotional clash each year during the holidays, starting with Halloween and ending with Valentine's day. So much hype and expectation for fun, frivolity and fellowship. I'm feeling the love this year, and enjoying the holidays with friends and family, and generally not getting caught up in the excess.

However, I am also acutely aware, how many people are struggling. It may be financial or emotional, or mental. It's the worst time of year to be in the pits of despair, because dammit, you're supposed to be HAPPY and you're supposed to CELEBRATE.

This year is my first Christmas in a decade I will not be with my wife. I've already passed the first Thanksgiving, and I sailed through that happily with my family. Though she was never a huge fan of Christmas, it is nevertheless odd not have her around during the holidays. I know a few other folks who are experiencing their first post-separation/divorce holiday season and my heart goes out to them. If we all lived in the same town, I would say "Come on over!" and we could hold each other up and toast to our new adventures in life.

As this calendar year ends and a new one soon begins, it sets me to wondering what lies ahead. What will I being doing next December? And the following? And...? I cannot know. But I'm okay with that. I don't need to know. As read on Mountain Musings this morning, "Seneca the Younger said it well:
'Expecting is the greatest impediment to living. In anticipation of tomorrow it loses today.'"

What Would You Do?

Robin and Roger played me this great Bruce Cockburn song, Last Night of the World.  The refrain really gets me:

If this were the last night of the world
What would I do?
What would I do that was different
Unless it was champagne with you?

It makes me wonder, what would I do that was different?  Who would I spend the last night of the world with?  Would I choose everyone I love, or that one special someone?  To end existence in the hot passionate embrace of true raw love...that moment of melding together that extinguishes all separateness between two bodies, hearts and souls.

What would you do that was different?

Simply Unpredictable

The Fiesta the Night Before the Wedding


If, last year at this time, you had told me that come August 2011 I would be a grandmother, and a newly separated woman living with my parents in a new city, I would have thought you'd gone off your rocker.  Yet that is exactly what has happened.

If you had told me the stock market would have its most volatile week in decades, I would not have believed you -- we were supposed to be out of the recession, remember?


If you had told me that California would still not have resolved the question of same-sex marriage by August 2011, I would have said you were cynical.  Likewise, if you had told me New York state would legalize same sex marriage in a year I would have thought you were wildly optimistic.


Or that I would finally meet with an old friend from high school that I hadn't seen in 30 years....


Or that mom would suffer another debilitating fall and surgery to repair her broken hip....


I guess this is just all to say how unpredictable life is;  how "the best laid plans of mice and men" are shot out right from under our feet.


What, in (insert your Deity or lack thereof here) name is going to transpire by next August?  Only time will tell.

Happy Birth Day

What can be said about the birth experience that doesn't sound trite?  Happens every day, right?

My grandson was born this morning at his home after 12 hours of arduous labor.  When he emerged it was like a thunderclap in my chest.  "Oh!" I said.

I held him for about an hour (after all the normal processing was complete) so my kids could sleep.  I held him and did laundry.  How cool am I?  It's as if I'd done this before, once, 23 years ago....

7 lbs 7 oz, 21 inches long, darling little face that looks just like his mama.

One Happy Bubbie

Ring the Bells

As a life's work, I would remember everything - everything, against loss. I would go through life like a plankton net. 
Annie Dillard 

Broken, by Taradharma 2011

• One friend's husband leaves her after three years of a seemingly happy marriage.  Another's husband leaves her after 30 years.  Both because they could not forgo the temptation of an affair with another woman.
• A friend's father is diagnosed with a potentially fatal disease.
• Another friend's father is killed in an auto accident.
• In a baseball park full of people, each holds up a sign signifying their loved ones lost to cancer.

Do we ever come to terms with loss, our own and the world's?  Sometimes there are no 'do-overs.'  Sometimes what is lost can never be retrieved.  Like Annie Dillard, I gather the good around me because it is all I can do.  The good things are a balm against all else that life throws at me.  I bask in the goodness; I celebrate every chance I get; I thank my lucky stars.


Broken bottles broken plates
Broken switches broken gates
Broken dishes broken parts
Streets are filled with broken hearts
Broken words never meant to be spoken
Everything is broken.

Seem like every time you stop and turn around
Something else just hit the ground
Broken cutters broken saws
Broken buckles broken laws
Broken bodies broken bones
Broken voices on broken phones
Take a deep breath feel like you're chokin'
Everything is broken.
-- Bob Dylan


You can add up the parts 
but you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in. 

--Leonard Cohen


Damn those cracks.  Praise those cracks.  They are the stuff life is made of.  As I grow older, I am learning not to be so terribly afraid of broken things, lives, hearts.  I am learning that they are great opportunities for deeper understanding, for more intimacy and exquisite compassion for others and myself.


Now, please pass the Ben & Jerry's, will ya?

Someday Soon

(Posted on YouTube: Willow comes into the picture around 4:29.)

Time is moving very slowly as we wait for the birth of my daughter’s son, Eden. Sleep eludes her now, as the baby grows ever larger, and he becomes animated when she lies down to sleep, perchance to dream. It’s the waiting time, the time to endure the most severe discomforts of pregnancy, and there can be many.

I wish I could give her the gift of sleep…but I cannot. That’s going to be a challenge for her for the next several months, unless her son is a sound sleeper from the get-go. Which is unlikely. I mean, how often does that happen?

We were watching birth videos last week in order to prepare for her own. We were holding hands and I was crying softly, in awe of the entire experience. I finally understood that, during labor, I could be strong for her. I would be positive and encouraging and calm. This realization was a break-through for me, as I have been feeling a bit panicked at the prospect of attending her labor.

A blessed peace has now come over me, with the help of her mid-wife, and her own good nature. This is really happening, and soon another young couple will welcome their child into this old world. That child just happens to be my grandson. Looking forward to meeting him very much.

Yin and Yang

I am exquisitely content these days.  

Am I allowed?  Must the spell be broken?  Why do I torture myself with such questions?  Life is, of course, filled with enough angst and tragedy for even the most masochistic among us, so why question when happiness and well-being are present?

It is a common occurrence these days that I will be full-to-bursting with a sense of pleasure while doing just about anything: taking a walk on these city streets, listening to music, grocery shopping for godssake.  The feeling is sometimes accompanied by a physical sensation of electricity running through my body – the “I’m ALIVE!” aha moment. 

Wink wink, the universe just got me.  Life is indeed full of irritants and one just buzzed about my head like a mosquito dive bombing for some blood.  So much for my fear of being too immersed in bliss.  Never worry, the yin and yang will always balance out.

Reunion

I visited with a friend today.  A friend I haven't seen in 33 years (give or take a couple).  A friend who has been living on another continent for 16 years.  A friend I found again on the Internet...Face Book of all things.

The passage of time is a very strange thing.

We ended up, in our very different lives, gravitating to similar spiritual quests and practices.  We circled in and out of the same Zen Center, of all things (she much more than I).  We had our children, we married our loves, we divorced, we were dealt physical blows that wrecked our bodies and changed us forever.  All the stuff of human existence.  Our paths did not cross again in all those years.

And there we were, today, sitting in a cool and peaceful living room on a hot summer afternoon in the California countryside.

I wish I could articulate something really profound about it -- because that's what I'm feeling.  I just can't seem to put it into words.  The concepts of time and space, and randomness and universality have me sitting back with a stunned deer-in-the-headlights look.  My cup runneth over.

This I do know: I enjoyed myself immensely.  I feel infinitely lucky.  Life is amazing.

Wow.

This poem just blows me away.  Blows my mind.  Blows wind up my skirt. What does it do for you?

It doesn’t interest me

what you do for a living.

I want to know

what you ache for

and if you dare to dream

of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me

how old you are.

I want to know

if you will risk

looking like a fool

for love

for your dream

for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me

what planets are

squaring your moon...

I want to know

if you have touched

the centre of your own sorrow

if you have been opened

by life’s betrayals

or have become shrivelled and closed

from fear of further pain.

I want to know

if you can sit with pain

mine or your own

without moving to hide it

or fade it

or fix it.

I want to know

if you can be with joy

mine or your own

if you can dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you

to the tips of your fingers and toes

without cautioning us

to be careful

to be realistic

to remember the limitations

of being human.

It doesn’t interest me

if the story you are telling me

is true.

I want to know if you can

disappoint another

to be true to yourself.

If you can bear

the accusation of betrayal

and not betray your own soul.

If you can be faithless

and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty

even when it is not pretty

every day.

And if you can source your own life

from its presence.

I want to know

if you can live with failure

yours and mine

and still stand at the edge of the lake

and shout to the silver of the full moon,

“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me

to know where you live

or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up

after the night of grief and despair

weary and bruised to the bone

and do what needs to be done

to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me

who you know

or how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand

in the centre of the fire

with me

and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me

where or what or with whom

you have studied.

I want to know

what sustains you

from the inside

when all else falls away.

I want to know

if you can be alone

with yourself

and if you truly like

the company you keep

in the empty moments.

By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,

from the book The Invitation

published by HarperONE, San Francisco,

1999 All rights reserved