The Rest of the old posts

I'm just going to copy here most of the rest of the entries from my former blog:

Friday, September 30, 2005
Flirting

An older gentleman flirted with me recently and it made my day. He said something like "Hello sweetheart," and smiled at me, and made small talk and complimented my hat. He was in no way, shape, or form a potential romantic partner, but it was fun and happy-making to be treated as an attractive person.

I'd like to try doing some light-hearted flirting of my own; it might make someone else's day.
12:41 pm pdt

Monday, September 19, 2005
One thing at a time

It's so true that it's trite, that a person should pay attention to only one thing at a time. In these days of multi-tasking, when I see joggers pushing a baby stroller with a dog leashed to the stroller, when I read, watch TV, or do both while eating, and practice a Hebrew chant during the commercials. When many of us have too much to do and too little time to do it all. The saying "Be here now" and the concept of mindfulness teach us to attend to life one moment and one task at a time.

This teaching is most useful when I come into work after a day off and find half a dozen matters requiring my immediate attention. I start to feel frantic and overwhelmed and inadequate. Then, my recent custom has been to speak kindly to my inner child and say to her, we don't have to do all these things at once. We can pick one and do it (and we can do it), and then do another, and so on, until they're all done. Then I focus my mind on the first task and push the other tasks away from my thoughts until it's time to face each one of them. I stop feeling overwhelmed and get the work done efficiently.

I wonder where this newfound ability came from. Part may be due to the medication that is normalizing my brain chemistry. Part may be sheer common sense. And part may be that meditation is helping me to control my thoughts.

In mantra meditation, one repeats some chosen word or phrase silently over and over, trying to keep all other thoughts out of the mind. It's surprisingly difficult. And every time I notice that I'm sticking to the mantra, the next thing that happens is my mind slips out of control and starts replaying some story I just read or some TV I've just watched or part of my day or ... . I'm getting better about sticking to the mantra, but I've got to stop that self-congratulation that opens the door to other thoughts. I'm pretty sure that the more I learn to focus on the mantra to the exclusion of all else, the more I'll be able to focus on one task at a time, and the more I'll be able to keep unwanted thoughts from coming to mind.
4:14 pm pdt

Thursday, September 15, 2005
Random musings

Topic one. I saw a man playing a bagpipe on the street the other day, and it came to me that I've never seen a woman play bagpipe (not that I've seen enough bagpipers to constitute a representative sample). I've also never heard of a woman heading an auto dealership. I was wondering if there was anything common to the two occupations that renders them inaccessible or unattractive to women.

Offhand, I can't think of anything. Bagpiping is usually an avocation rather than one's day job. I don't think that piping requires the extra lung capacity that being male sometimes provides. And as to selling cars, I can't see any possible gender-linked feature. If anything, women might be more successful in sales than men. Women certainly make our share of real estate sales. It's a puzzlement to me.

Topic two. There are two construction sites near my office. In one the old building had to be demolished first; the other used to be a parking lot. This latter site I pass only once or twice a week and haven't been paying much attention to, except to notice an article in the paper about how an old ship was discovered in the excavation and that an archeologist was called in to study the ship before it was dug out.

The demolition process at the other site has been riveting. The big machines have been daintily chewing at the building while the sidewalks on both sides of the corner building have remained open, albeit sheltered by a plywood overhang. It suddenly occurs to me that a flood last week of the streets near the site may have been connected with the construction. Maybe one of the machines burst a water main.

Anyway, it reminded me of a construction project that I was able to observe very closely from the window of my old office in Oakland. It was fascinating watching the digging, how they carefully leveled the bottom of the excavation and inset the main posts and walked on the crossbars as they fastened them to connect the posts (or whatever those structural members are actually called).

About the only project more fascinating than watching a building come down is watching one being built. It amazes me how a group of men (and it's usually nearly all men) and machines can produce a huge object that can keep the weather out and hold all the people and furniture inside and (hopefully) look good in the bargain.

Cities are composed of the buildings and the people who live and work in them. So there is probably no more fundamental part of creating or maintaining a city than building those buildings. They are so important to the powers that be that scientists developed a neutron bomb that would kill all the people but leave the buildings intact.

And I can't understand why the Palestinians not only acquiesced in the bulldozing of settlers' houses in Gaza before the handover, but asked for it. And why the synagogues, which were of the least utility to the Palestinians, were left standing. I should think that premade houses would be very attractive to a people of extreme poverty. There's probably an explanation out there, but it doesn't make much sense to me.

In other news, we're having an art and talent show at work today, and I'm going to be playing a small piece on recorder. The medications I'm on help a lot with stage fright, and also my mantra "It'll be fine; failing that, it'll be over." I've been moving towards a different formulation more recently, which may be slightly more optimistic (or fatalistic?): "It'll go as it will go, and then it will be over." And I need to keep reminding myself that I've chosen to perform; I must have had some reason to volunteer to do it.
10:14 am pdt

Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Men of worth?

Confucius said (I kid you not):

When we see men of worth, we should think of equaling them; when we see men of a contrary character, we should turn inward and examine ourselves.

Sexist language aside, this is valuable advice. When I see someone who's calm under fire, or who has found an enjoyable and worthwhile occupation, or so on, I sometimes wish I were more like him or her. I do wish I had been brought up by people who showed me how to live a meaningful and productive life. Instead, I got fondness for the arts and comfort (which are fine in themselves but are pretty weak reeds to base one's existence upon) and bad examples from whom I learned to avoid substance abuse. I see parents on TV who both embody and teach their children moral values such as honesty and and self-control, and wish I had had such a family.

To be fair, I did get sent to Sunday school, where I picked up some ethics, and my parents and guardians were honest and law-abiding. But they didn't discuss one's reason for existence or duty to give back to the world what we have been given, or anything like that.

What my mother did do, shortly before her death, as it turned out, was corner me on the phone and tell me all the pieces of wisdom she had acquired in forty-ish years of twelve-stepping. Had I known that that was her legacy to me, I would have taken notes. As it was, my attention wasn't fully present, and I wouldn't have remembered anything anyway without writing it down, except for gems that I had already heard before.

What I did learn from her was to write myself a script before a conversation that was likely to be difficult, and that, although pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. That is, we have some degree of choice in how we respond to painful situations, and can, perhaps, at the very least, not react in a way that would make the situation worse.

Anyway, I've wandered away from the topic. The second half of Confucius's saying is also very helpful. It reminds me of another saying that I picked up somewhere: when you're pointing a finger at someone else, three fingers are pointing back at you. It seems that traits in others that bother us the most are traits that we share. And it is a salutary lesson to see how those traits in action make others feel.
2:27 pm pdt

Friday, September 9, 2005
Girdled palm trees

Have you ever seen grown palm trees being transported to their planting site? They usually have their fronds tied together in a bunch, and look like recumbent green giants with topknots.

I was walking along the Embarcadero today and noticed that the palm trees there have several metal belts around them that support light fixtures. The lights are pointed up, towards the tops of the trees, instead of down, which would benefit after-dark pedestrians.

When the earthquake-damaged freeway came down, the city decided to spiffy up the area. Now a gracious esplanade (what does that word actually mean? Oh, a level open stretch of paved or grassy ground - that is actually the right word), the area features the palm trees, the largest living participants in the spectacle by a long shot.

As to the relative unfriendliness of the area to nighttime strollers, there are regular street lights, and the surrounding buildings have their own lights, and anyway, that area empties out at night except for the folks staying at the Hyatt Regency Hotel. And they probably have better things to do than stroll along the Embarcadero after dark.

Where am I going with this? Nowhere in particular. I just thought it interesting that the trees were wearing girdles of metal.
1:15 pm pdt

Thursday, September 1, 2005
Glass kettles?

The other day an ordinary traffic sight caused me to wonder. A car had slowed at a stop sign and was continuing through the intersection when a motorcyclist approaching at a right angle honked at the driver. However, it seemed to me that the motorcycle had also coasted through its stop sign.

My first thought was that persons who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Then I thought that the motorcyclist as the pot calling the kettle black would be the more appropriate characterization of the situation. Now I'm wondering if they both mean the same thing or if there's some nuance of meaning in one saying that the other lacks.

A person living in a glass house has the illusion of privacy without the actuality. More to the point, the roof overhead and the walls that turn away the elements are very fragile indeed. If the tenant of such a house gets a mind to throw stones, he needs to exit the house first and face away from it or run the risk of shattering his own home. The saying does not address the qualities of the object of the tenant's anger, at least not directly. I think the point of the saying is that expressing anger towards another is at least as likely to harm us as it is to harm the object of our anger.

The saying about the pot and the kettle is, I think, more apposite to the motorcycle/car situation. It posits that both vessels are black in hue, but that the pot has conveniently forgotten its own color while castigating the kettle for its blackness. In fact, we often are rubbed the wrong way by people who are exhibiting characteristics that we ourselves possess. I've always liked the saying that when we point our fingers at someone else, three other fingers are pointing right back at us.

In short, today's lesson is, come to a complete stop at stop signs.
7:46 pm pdt

Monday, August 22, 2005
Gratitude

The Native American chief Tecumseh said:

When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the morning light, for your life and strength. Give thanks for your food, and the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies with yourself.
My views about God and what God wants for/from me are shifting a bit these days, but I continue to give thanks in the morning, as I leave my house, for the new day and a laundry list of other blessings. So, whoever or whatever God may be (and I continue to like the name 'Soul of the Universe), I still think of God as the being to whom gratitude should be given when I feel grateful.

Jewish standards of conduct would have me giving thanks as a regular part of the day, whether I feel grateful or not. I've been praying two Jewish morning prayers recently, one thanking God for the marvelous and intricate organism that is my body. The prayer includes the line, 'If but one element of this wondrous structure were to fail in its task, we could not stand before you and give thanks.' This suggests that giving thanks is a reason for living, that it is incumbent on us as creations of God, that thanks giving should be as natural as breathing. (The other prayer thanks God for putting a pure soul in me; I'm still working on understanding that one.)

I was struck by the line about it being our own fault if we see no reason for giving thanks. I can see that mindless acceptance of life's gifts lessens the gift, the giver, and the recipient. However, one can also be oblivious to the gifts in life if one is sunk in depression. I can't believe that we are at fault for having a mental illness, so that must be an exception to Tecumseh's stricture.

I think that gratitude is a good thing even if there is no one to be grateful to. There is a universe that has provided the good things in our life, even if some cooperation by us and others in our lives was also required. And we can be grateful to the universe. Gratitude lifts our spirits and encourages us to participate in making more good things happen for us and for others.
1:31 pm pdt

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Watch yourself

Yesterday's bit of Buddhist wisdom was:

Delight in heedfulness. Watch over your own mind.

I had discussions with myself yesterday that relate to this concept. One effective remedy for being plagued by troublesome thoughts is stepping away from the thoughts enough to look at them from outside. This deprives them of some of their effect and allows clear concentration on how to conquer them.

I had been putting off two chores at work. They weren't all that hard, but were composed of several pieces and characteristics that added together to be off-putting. I finally finished the chore ahead of them in the stack and was looking at them with some trepidation. Then I started telling myself that I'd done these chores before and knew how to do them. I also told myself, and this was the key, that I didn't have to do the chores all at once. I needed to take only one step at a time and then I could do the next step, and then the next. And so, over the course of the morning, I did one step at a time, asking other people for information that I needed and then using the information when they got it to me. Then the chores were done and I moved on to the next task and started it in the same way.

The 'one step at a time' approach works for a lot of things that would otherwise be overwhelming. But the real key of the method was stepping away from my thoughts far enough to see what the problem was; then I was able to choose the appropriate method for dealing with it.
9:44 am pdt

Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Important days

Alexander Woollcott wrote:

There is no such thing in anyone's life as an unimportant day.

This sentiment has been expressed in many ways over the ages, focusing on different aspects of what could be important in a day. There's 'Carpe diem,' or seize the day, there's 'Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.' These sayings look to enjoying the pleasures of life.

And there are various religious traditions teaching that the past is gone and the future is not yet and that now is the only time we have to grow our souls and contribute to the world.

I sometimes think that I'm missing out on both the pleasures and the responsibility because I'm too afraid of the world to really engage it. It's not that I don't enjoy things or contribute to the world, just that I could do so much more. I could spend more time doing what I most enjoy. I could be trying new things that I might enjoy even more. I could be spending more time in spiritual practice and helping others as a volunteer . . . I could also give myself a break and avoid perfectionism. It's hard to know which 'shoulds' should be acted on and which should be ignored.

Each day being important implies that we really shouldn't be wasting our limited time on waiting for things to happen or frittering away time with no purpose or benefit. I spend far too much time watching TV or reading when I should be getting out and being with people or getting exercise or volunteering . . . see above.

I also sense in this statement that each day contains the possibility of something important. That at any minute someone may ask me for help or an idea might come to me or something might happen that makes the day worthwhile. Part of my problem may be that I can't imagine important ways I might be spending my time, or I'm too set in my ways, or afraid, or just unwilling to branch out.

One of the good things about being in school is that the classroom is an incubator for friendship. And friends have a way of introducing one to new world views and new leisure activities. One friend dragged me out on hikes. One friend got me into being a blood donor. I learned folksongs from one friend.

There are places and activities that can be sources of friends for adults, but it's harder now to make friends. It's especially hard for me, since I'm a bit afraid of people and not curious enough to overcome that fear.

That's all the importance I can handle for today.
6:55 pm pdt

Monday, August 8, 2005
A hundred mountains

Here's a puzzler, by a Richard Nelson:

There may be more to learn from climbing the same mountain a hundred times than by climbing a hundred different mountains.

It's hard to know what sort of mountains he's referring to. And I'm not sure I agree with him.

Let's take literal mountains. On repeat visits one could learn more about the flora and fauna of that mountain, and enjoy the views in different seasons and directions. However, it seems that different mountains increase the possibilities for learning different things, albeit perhaps in a more superficial way than could result from deep study of a particular mountain. On the third hand, a scientist who pays repeated visits to the same places learns more about the state of the mountain and its denizens over time than single visits to many mountains would reveal. Hm.

Looking at the metaphorical mountains in our lives. The term 'mountain' most obviously refers to some kind of arduous task. Let's take writing a book for an example. If the author writes the same book 100 times, only one of them, at best, is going to get published. Unless we're talking about books whose main theme recurs but the characters, settings, and details change. Like murder mysteries and romances. Nevertheless, I think that an author learns more from writing different books than focusing in on a single one.

Other sorts of mountains? How about a complex personal relationship? It might be better to keep on trying to make it work for some period of time than to give up and start others. However, after many tries it may become necessary to one's mental health to give up and let go.

How about at work? I think that nearly everyone by a really compulsive perfectionist would prefer to have a variety of tasks to perform than a single one to do over and over and over again.

An artwork? Same thing goes. It's worthwhile repeating a project until it becomes as good as it's going to get, but then it's time to move on to something else.

Vacation trips? There are probably folks who want to go to a different place each time and those who want to keep returning to a place that suits them. A matter of taste here.

I could go on, perhaps not a hundred times, with comparisons, but I'm not convinced that the author has found a rule that works across the board.
2:25 pm pdt

Sunday, August 7, 2005
Disposition to happiness?

Martha Washington (of all people) once wrote:

The greater part of our happiness depends on our dispositions and not on our circumstances.

I wonder if that's a good thing or a bad thing. It depends on the extent to which we are responsible for our dispositions - i.e., to what extent we can change our approach to life. If by disposition we mean an innate and unalterable approach to life, well, that means we're stuck with ourselves and our habitual degree of happiness or unhappiness.

If we're talking about an inborn state that is subject to change, we can improve our outlook by means of therapy, practicing optimistic habits, or the judicious use of psychiatric medications. Even more change should be possible if our disposition is something that develops as we grow up.

There is a whole movement to train people to be happier, with books like "Learned Optimism" and "Authentic Happiness." These and other approaches to improving folks' level of happiness may be less effective for persons who are clinically depressed, but that's where therapy and medications come in. These techniques can help unhappy people to at least consider the possibility that they could become relatively happy.

In my experience, possibilities for improved happiness are a two-edged sword. If I'm really down, I'll blame myself for not feeling better than I do - for being resistant to therapy, unwilling to change, etc. If, on the other hand, I'm already open to suggestion, then I can feel better just by thinking about the possibility of feeling better. Or something like that.

Then there's the part of her statement about the lesser effect of circumstances. That can work several ways, too. If we're accustomed to bad circumstances and of a happy disposition, we can be happy. Even if bad circumstances come upon us, we can still be at least hopeful. If our disposition is unhappy, then bad circumstances shouldn't make us feel much worse, and good circumstances won't make us feel much better.

I'm trying to set out the possibilities as if they were solutions to a set of equations. But nothing that concerns people is clear-cut. I think that circumstances can have great effect on one's mental state. Consider situational depression and PTSD, for example. While winning the lottery probably won't bring lasting happiness, meeting someone new and developing a good relationship can make one really happy for as long as the relationship lasts.

Exercise and meditation can help one's outlook, as can being out in nature. We are, after all, mammals, and meeting our mammalian needs can make our mammalian brain happy. Walking my mammal, feeding it, allowing it to mate, etc., all can cheer up my mammalian brain.

As does simply smiling. Even if I don't have anything to smile about, the simple act of smiling makes me feel a bit happier.

So, anyway, that's what I have to say about disposition and circumstances. Today, that is.
7:29 pm pdt

Friday, August 5, 2005
Kissing frogs

A recent inspirational message I received says that learning what you want is often paved with many moments of learning what you don't want. It talks about how we can't expect ourselves to know in advance what won't work. And asks us to remember that our choices or decisions aren't permanent or final actions.

This is a great message for me, because I really try to picture an event or result and agonize before making a decision. I find making decisions so hard that I often leave them to the universe to decide for me, usually by the lapse of time.

In less than cosmic terms, choosing what to eat in a restaurant is a decision I sometimes find nearly immobilizing. As a result, I cast around for what looks good until I find something I like, and then I stick with it - when I go to that restaurant, that's what I get. Someone I know makes a point of trying something different each time he goes out. I can see the possibilities for discovering several different good things using that method, so you have a choice among several things you like on future visits. I'm a finicky eater, though, and have had enough experiences wasting food that I don't like. So I'm going to stick with my method for now.

In general, though, I see the merit in trying on a variety of things to learn which of them is for you - clothes, friendships, hobbies, reading matter, spiritual practices, you name it. Of course some options need a longer trial than others to show whether they fit.

I'm reminded of the saying about not finding a prince until you've kissed a lot of frogs. The saying misses the mark, however, in that many of the frogs may be fairly prince-like (or princess-like) and worth a kiss or two. When I'm frozen with indecision, I can sometimes remember that I don't have to make the best possible decision right off the bat; in most situations there are many 'good enough' decisions that I could make.

Let's regard our less than stellar choices as experiments that help to show us better choices.


Sunday, July 31, 2005
Sun and shadow

Today's thought is an interesting one.

Never fear shadows. They simply mean there's a light shining somewhere nearby.

It suggests that there is a positive side to every negative situation. For example, if I'm bent out of shape about gaining weight, it shows that I live in a society where there's plenty to eat, which is a good thing.

It's harder to find to positives in cases like war, disease, and famine. Perhaps the term 'shadows' is not intended to apply to such solid evils. I want to say that such challenging circumstances can bring out the best in people, but sometimes they bring out the worst. It's a puzzlement to me.
5:01 pm pdt

Friday, July 29, 2005
Fun with paper

Yesterday I succumbed to a whim and made a paper airplane at work. It didn't fly very well, but it was fun to make.

Then on my way home I saw a small circular piece (ca. 1 1/2 inches in diameter) of cardboard (I think), rolling down the sidewalk in the wind. It just kept rolling as I watched it for several seconds, even after dipping down as if to lie flat on the sidewalk. That was one persistent piece of whatever.

The moral, if any, seems to be that serendipity can do as good a job of providing entertainment than something planned.
11:55 am pdt

Sunday, July 24, 2005
Home from summer camp

I got back yesterday from my weeklong recorder workshop in sunny San Rafael.

The weather was lovely - morning overcast most days kept the weather from being unpleasantly hot most of the week

Except for the last night, the food was very good. I somehow managed to eat desserts and sodas nearly every lunch and dinner without gaining any weight. Maybe it's because my entree portions were modest.

Anyway, my nerves were fine this year. I was able to attend all my classes and to perform in the recorder orchestra and with other members of my Baroque concerti class with barely any stage fright. Several of my friends commented how worried they had been about me last year and how much better I looked this year.

I really enjoyed being on the campus of Dominican University. It has green lawns and lush landscaping and lies nestled up against wooded hills. It is very restful to the eyes. Several times during the week I sat on the porch, alternately reading children's literature and gazing out at the rose vines, lawn, and trees.
7:19 pm pdt

Friday, July 15, 2005
Light to the world

This will be my last day at work for a while. I'm off to recorder camp next week, in sunny San Rafael. Activities are scheduled through the days and into the evenings, so it's not entirely restful, but there are breathing places and I can opt out of sessions if I feel like it.

A recent bit of wisdom, from Edith Wharton:

There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.

It's fairly clear what it means to be the candle - to be an exemplary person and spread benefits to those around you. Reflecting the candle is a bit harder.

I got an idea about reflecting light from this show I watched last night about new heroes. The show was about social entrepreneurs. These are people who looked at problems in the world - rampant correctable blindness, gardeners who were in need of cheap irrigation, and lack of rural electrification forcing farm families into city slums - and found ways to address these problems in very practical and affordable ways while making enough income to keep their nonprofit organizations afloat. The people who saw the problems and worked out the solutions are the candles, and those who joined the organizations and made the solutions happen are reflecting the light.
9:41 am pdt

Wednesday, July 13, 2005
What's up

My service leading and recorder playing went pretty smoothly. I'm getting more calm about getting up in front of people and am better able to focus on the task at hand. Also, I'm beginning to get excited about getting out of town for a week and playing lots of recorder with my friends.

Here's a recent bit of wisdom.

And better than a hundred years lived apathetic & unenergetic, is one day lived energetic & firm.

It's another bit that hits home. I've lived most of my life from the sidelines - says she after participating in two worship services in a single weekend. But I have the nagging feeling that I'm not really engaging with life and the world. I've been starting to think about my epitaph, and not knowing what would be said about how I lived and contributed to life. What has been energetic and firm about my life.

Maybe I give myself too little credit for engaging with music and worship, and being a responsible taxpayer and cat companion. Oh well, enough navel-gazing for today. Back to work, which, incidentally, is not chopped liver either.
9:57 am pdt

Thursday, July 7, 2005
Comet games

And here's my last assignment for the humor course:

Comets and meteors have rammed into Earth from time to time. There doesn’t tend to be much left of them after such collisions, and scientists have become very curious about the constituents of comets. The United States has just flung an 820-pound slug of copper (with a camera and propulsion system) into a comet to see what it’s made of. The ‘ejecta,’ the debris kicked up from the impact of the slug, are being analyzed to determine, in the words of one of the scientists on the NASA team behind this project, whether comets are ‘dirty snowballs’ or ‘snowy dirtballs.’ What if they find out that comets aren’t made of dirt and water, after all? Maybe they’re made of green cheese, or little green men, or palm trees, or pepperoni pizzas, or fur coats, or dolphins, or skis, or oboes, or old truck engines, or paper clips, or surveying rods, or old computers, or bus transfers, or clown makeup, or steel kettles, or brown paper shopping bags, or street signs, or Swiss watches, or acrylic paints, or tattered paperback books, or reams of paper, or backhoes, or wrought iron railings, or Louis XIV armoires, or corn silos, or locomotive engines, or birchbark canoes, or chad, or threadbare sheets, or warm woolen mittens. Since there are so many possibilities, the scientists are spending big bucks to chip a hole in a comet to analyze what comes flying out of it. Now I’m not a scientist, but flinging a huge chunk of metal at an object cannot be the most sophisticated method of studying it, I think.

Not only that, but flinging a big plug of metal at a nearby heavenly body is just not a neighborly thing to do. How would we like it if somebody flung a heavy object at Earth to see what it’s made of? Oh. Maybe someone did.
6:55 pm pdt

Monday, July 4, 2005
Summer joys

I've just handed in the last assignment in my humor writing class and am looking forward to several upcoming events. I'm going to be co-leading the service at synagogue this coming Friday. I'm playing recorder at the service at St. John's church Sunday morning. Then I'm going away for my week-long recorder camp the following Sunday.

And I have a handful of chores waiting for me when I get back - starting with three different repairs that need to be done to my car.

In other news, I'm on a pretty even keel mental healthwise lately. And I'm amazed at how the medication affects not only my level of anxiety and mood but also the actual thoughts that I'm thinking. When the anxiety is under control, I have fewer physical symptoms to obsess over, but I also pay less attention to the sensations I do have.

Today's bit of wisdom is from Ben Franklin:

A man wrapped up in himself makes a very small bundle.

Self-absorption is one of my besetting sins, so this message hits home. I think that the opposite of self-absorption is excessive involvement in the lives of others, to the expense of one's own. A well-balanced life would include taking care of both oneself and others.

I keep thinking that I'd be happier, and less anxious and depressed, if I spent less time and energy on pursuing my own comfort and more on making my little corner of the world better. I do, as indicated above, contribute to worship services of various flavors, but that doesn't seem to be enough.

As a confirmed bookoholic, I keep thinking that I could get into teaching adults how to read, but the one time I tried that, it was a disaster. Maybe with better training ... ? I don't know, but since I don't have a partner or kids to occupy my time, it seems that I should be using more of it to help others.

Stay tuned.
4:07 pm pdt

Friday, July 1, 2005
Intelligent universe

My horoscope for today was interesting:

Trusting your feelings today will give you a solid place to stand while you evaluate your options and make a necessary decision. Even if you are still unsure where you are heading, you can slow down a bit and enjoy the scenery along the way. Trust in the infinite wisdom of an intelligent universe, and let yourself be guided now by your own unformed dreams and nebulous visions.

I'm not sure how much I trust my feelings or how much I should trust them (being a bit prone to depression), but I can get behind slowing down enough to enjoy the scenery on the journey. I imagine that the scenery in question is more than literal scenery but also whatever in one's life is worthy of attention: weather, buildings, other people, animals, etc.

The horoscope tells me that I'm not alone in my sense that the universe itself is a source of wisdom and guidance. I must have gotten that idea from somewhere - it's not Christian or Jewish. Maybe it came to me from some New Age or 12-step source. I find the idea of an intelligent universe more comforting and less scary than most other views of the Divine.

I could profit from paying more attention to my 'unformed dreams and nebulous visions.' I tend not to have dreams or visions, so it is encouraging to think that hints of ideas in the nature of dreams and visions would be sufficient to provide directions for growth.
9:59 am pdt


Thursday, June 30, 2005
Operation freedom

Here's another little something that I wrote for my humor writing class:

The Bush administration has declared war not only on terrorism but also on various social ills. In the war on school bullies, they have put federal marshals in every school, to patrol the halls and playgrounds. Violators are taken to undisclosed locations, kept there incommunicado, and subjected to coercive questioning until they revealed the person or persons who taught them how to bully others. Then those persons, whether other children or their own parents, are also incarcerated and questioned. In fact, since bullying goes on almost exclusively at schools, the schools themselves are suspect, and the federal marshals have the authority to close and bulldoze any school that has too many bullies. The federal courts target homes that have produced more than one bully, and send drill sergeants into the homes to stamp out bully-creating behavior - except for the homes of the well-to-do, even though they produce more than their share of bullies. Similar approaches are taken to combat persons' violence against themselves. For example, overweight kids and adults are taken into custody and compelled to engage in hard labor until their weight falls within the normal range for their height and age. They are required to register with the police wherever they live to be sure that they do not regain the weight. Smokers are imprisoned and forced to go cold turkey. After a detoxing period they are released, but they are subject to surveillance, and their reading and telephone messages are studied, to make sure that they don’t relapse. If they do go back to smoking, it is off to the gulag with them, until such time as they can be trusted with freedom. Anyone who speaks against any of these programs is labeled unpatriotic and shunned by good citizens.
2:58 pm pdt

Sunday, June 26, 2005
Libraries on parade

Here's another little something that I wrote for the humor writing class:

I recently read an article about a library book (Kim, by Rudyard Kipling) that had been returned to the Oakland public library 78 years after it was due. Marjorie checked it out in 1927. She lent it to her sister, who kept it in the family - all the children read it. It sat on a shelf or in a box for years. The sister died in 2005. The sister’s son found it when he went through her possessions after her death. He finally noticed that it was a library book and returned it to the library branch from which it had been checked out a lifetime earlier. There was a celebration when Kim came back to the library after 78 years away. He was so happy to be back home. He enjoyed being read by all the children in the family, but he spent so long in boxes that he was about to come down with mildew. He met some nice girls out there. He had a little fling with Jo, but then she ran off with Tom Swift. In the meanwhile, the other library books were doing their own thing. The mystery books were trying to solve their own mysteries before reaching the last chapter. The dance instruction books were looking for partners. The cookbooks were preparing their own recipes. The crafts books were doing their needlepointing, knitting, cross-stitch, and lace. The automobile guides were changing the oil on cars that they found between the pages of other books about cars. One of the books on fishing hadn’t been checked out so long that he was forgetting how to fly-cast. One of the science fiction books commiserated with the fishing book, and said that he was getting restless for a little trip himself. Another sci fi book went on a Mediterranean cruise with her reader, and has been enjoying the sun and fun. Laura wished that she could turn the clock back to before her last checkout. The child who checked her out was fine, but his little sister not only dog-eared her pages but actually used a marker on her! And the internet computers! They’re having a high old time checking their e-mail and talking with other computers in chat rooms. Library books lead much more interesting lives than we can imagine.
11:30 am pdt

Tuesday, June 21, 2005
The same river?

A bit of inspiration for today:

You cannot step twice into the same river, for other waters are continually flowing on.
It seems obvious at first. One cannot do anything exactly the same way twice. Although quite similar, two situations cannot be identical. It's like snowflakes; at the very least, the two situations are happening at different times. The people involved are not going to be exactly the same, having aged and having had other experiences in the interim.
Going back to the metaphor, it's obvious that the particular waters that were flowing where one first stepped into the river would be that much closer to the sea (if not already in the sea, or lake, or whatever) when one steps at another time.
What isn't obvious, at first, is that the saying says that "other waters" are continually flowing on. This reference appears not to be to the actual river that was stepped into, but to some 'other' waters in the vicinity. How would other waters make sense in this context? Was the word 'other' a mistake? I don't know. Thinking literally, one could argue that the waters one has stepped into are on their way downstream the moment one has passed, so that the waters that take their place are 'other.' One could argue that the waters stepped into are instantly mixed into the rest of the river and that they thereby become 'other.' It's a puzzlement.
Anyway, whatever it means to you, the river is flowing on as time goes by.
9:31 am pdt

Sunday, June 19, 2005
The sea and me

Here's a little something that I wrote for my online humor writing class:

My bed sings a siren song to me, one that I can hear from miles away. But the song is not loud, just insistent. It lures me to my bed, wrapping me in sleepiness like a wonderfully soft bathrobe. It whispers to me of relaxation, release, and refreshment. It reminds me of the simple pleasure of sleep. I go gladly to its embrace; my bed becomes a conch-shell of shimmery warmth; at once it is large and protective, as well as cozy and comfortable. In the morning, however, it’s another story. Then my bed is a huge octopus. Its arms spring forth from the mattress and entangle me in their tentacles of sheets and pillows. The octopus that swallowed San Francisco grasps hold of me and refuses to let me go (it seems to have woken up hungry). I struggle to free myself from its grasp, but every time I lift my head from the pillow it drags me back down underwater. Not satisfied with just keeping me asleep, it keeps me in bed even when I don’t actually get back to sleep. On weekends, when I don’t try that hard to get up, it can keep me from leaving the bed until half the day is gone. On workdays, however, my need to earn a living gives extra strength to my struggles, and I break free of the long, suckered tentacles and swim off to work.
12:19 pm pdt

Saturday, June 18, 2005
Waiting

Here's a statement by Horace:

He who postpones the hour of living rightly is like the rustic who waits for the river to run out before he crosses.

It reminds me of Saint Augustine, who prayed for God to make him virtuous, but not yet.

The metaphor here is graphic. In the same way that a river will probably never run out, if we postpone acting better until some future time, we will probably not do it until our time runs out.

I can relate to that peasant, because there are many ways in which I could be behaving better, and not just towards the world and the people in it, but also for my own self-care. I keep putting behavioral changes off, and sooner or later my time will be up.

On the other hand, when I make beneficial changes, even for several weeks or months, they usually fade away. I have heard (or more probably, read) that if you perform a new behavior over some three or six weeks, it becomes a habit. Don't believe them. I can try a new behavior for months, and then drop it quite easily. (Well, there may be some self-blame and despair, but not enough feeling to impel me to take the habit back up.)
1:14 pm pdt

Freedoms

A bit of Buddhist wisdom that caught my eye is:

'He insulted me, he hurt me, he defeated me, he robbed me.’ Those who think such things will not be free from hate.

This is because it reminds me of the earlier piece about not dwelling on the sins of others. Here the emphasis is on the hurt one does to oneself by dwelling on the way that someone else has hurt us. It also hints at the harmful results to the others who wringed us and to the world if we obsess on such thoughts. Hate multiplies and leads to crime, wars, and other mischief.

I'm also reminded of a saying by Lady Bird Johnson, an echo of many other similar sayings (and of Pollyanna's whole approach to life), to the effect that children grow up to be who you expect them to be. If we view others with optimism and ascribe the best possible motives to their actions (e.g., he's having a bad day, she wasn't thinking of me when she did that, maybe it was an accident, etc.), not only will we be happier (hate is a very unhappy place to be), but the person may be more apt to behave better in the future.

12:56 pm pdt

Friday, June 17, 2005
Sayings for the day

Here's one for science fiction buffs:

Life can only be understood backwards, but must be lived forwards.

Although I don't think time travel is what Soren Kierkegaard had in mind. In that regard, though, I recommend reading "The Time Traveller's Wife."

Living life forwards implies more than the fact that time marches on. I think it also suggests that one should approach the future with curiosity and hope, and have plans and goals.

Looking backwards gives us perspective on what has been good for us and what should be avoided in the future, but too much looking backward keeps us from moving forward and creating the type of future we need and from developing into the kind of person who would thrive in that future.
6:48 pm pdt

Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Responsibility and courage

Here are two more bits:

Let us not talk of karma, but simply of responsibility toward the whole world.

Courage is fear holding on a minute longer.

The Dalai Lama wrote the first saying. He seems to think that focusing on karma as explaining all the problems in the world does not lead to engagement with the world. Of course we can't be responsible for the whole world at once, but we can take responsibility for caring for our little corner of the world, and for the people and plants and animals that are in it. The Dalai Lama has certainly had great good effects worldwide, but such opportunities come to very few of us.

There's a reading in our synagogue's prayerbook that ends something like "Let it not be said that life was good to us, but rather that we were good to life." The concept is a lot like J.F.K.'s "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." Similar thoughts are found in the Christian concept of stewardship, that the planet and all it contains were given to humans not only for our use, but also for us to take care of, so they can continue to be useful and wonderful for others.

Life is a gift, and we owe thanks in the form of service to the Creator of life. For example, we should be kind and helpful to the people in our lives, because all of us were made in the image of God.

I'm preaching to myself here, because, although I don't generally harm people or the planet, personally, I participate in an economy that thrives on pillaging, rapine, and treating employees and consumers like chess pieces.

I'm trying to be increasingly helpful to others. Where I am now is praying the loving-kindness prayer for any friend or acquaintance who enters my thoughts. And I give cash to beggars, especially women, about half the time.

On to courage. I think that the quote is dead on. Courage is not the absence of fear, it's carrying on in the face of fear - like I've done with service leading, the Jeopardy audition, and the congregational retreat (hey, I'm not claiming that my fears are rational).

Some fears I'm not handling so well - like being afraid to travel more than a two-hour drive away from home. Other fears come with perfectionism and my sense of unworthiness - that I won't measure up, that I'll make a mistake, that people will laugh at me. And then there's the fear of death and dying. On the bright side, I haven't had a panic attack for nearly a year, so at least my fears aren't expressing themselves in that extremely unpleasant way.

Well, I'm running out of steam. In terms of bravery, though, let me leave you with a saying by I don't know whom: Be bold, be bold, be not too bold.
8:26 pm pdt

Monday, June 13, 2005
Loving-kindness

I'm so far behind on the daily bits of wisdom that I'll have to explore two or three at a time to catch up.

Here's one:

The one who practices loving-kindness sleeps and wakes in comfort and has no bad dreams; he is dear to both humans and creatures; no danger harms him. His mind can be quickly concentrated, his expression is happy and serene. He dies without any confusion of mind. Loving-kindness protects him.

It sounds really good to me, but is a lot easier said than done.

Kind, loving people sleep in comfort because their conscience doesn't trouble them and because they have no regrets about how they have filled their days.

Along related lines, it can help one's sleep to finish the day with thoughts of gratitude for the good things that the day has brought, because such thoughts are also conducive to rest.

People of loving-kindness also wake in comfort and have no bad dreams. Apparently it's not just falling asleep that's improved, but also one's dreams and awakening. If one's thoughts at bedtime are positive and kind, the benefits of this practice can overflow into one's dreams and waking.

People of loving-kindness are dear to humans and creatures because they have done them nothing but good. Loving-kindness protects them. I don't know if they're proof against harm, but their chances of being harmed by other people or animals are minimized when they are on good terms with others.

I don't know why 'his mind can be quickly concentrated' is in the same sentence with 'his expression is happy and serene.' I guess that the ability to focus on a desired topic helps people to avoid unproductive thoughts and feelings, and that such avoidance leads to serenity.

He dies without any confusion of mind. I guess that anger and panic would be viewed as aspects of a confused mind. As I wrote before, I'm really afraid of dying (or death, or both), so anything that can ease my mind about that prospect is worth looking into.

I'm fairly good at being kind to people whom I see in the course of a day. I'm less good at doing positive acts of loving kindness for people. Choosing such acts requires an empathy that usually escapes me.

Anyway, these ideas are worth keeping in mind.

Another bit of wisdom, by Charles Spurgeon, states that:

Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strength.

I know a lot about anxiety, and I partly disagree with this statement. No argument about anxiety causing weakness - it surely does. It cranks up my metabolism and burns up my energy, and leaves me drained and numb.

However, although anxiety usually has no effect on tomorrow's sorrows, sometimes having it early can preempt the anxiety attendant on those sorrows. That is to say, sometimes I experience the anxiety associated with some upcoming event before the event, and 'getting it over early' lessens my discomfort when the event actually occurs.

The main point to this saying is that anxiety is a bad thing. I concur, and advise getting a handle on it by any means necessary - training the mind, medication, or whatever. Anxiety is also bad for one's physical health. In short, it is to be avoided if at all possible.
8:28 pm pdt

Sunday, June 12, 2005
Acceptance and change

Carl Rogers wrote:

The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.

This is a sentiment that I've seen echoed in many places by many people; and Mr. Rogers might not have been the first one to state it. For example, it also appears in the Buddhist text from two days ago: Give up becoming this or that.

It surely is a paradox. A person who wants to change has to first accept how she is, and - implicitly - not seek to change. How can one both want to change and not want to change at the same time?

It seems to me, moreover, that accepting one's negative traits, e.g., accepting that one is selfish, or materialistic, or afraid of various things, would have the effect of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I can't quite see how it would make one more open to change.

Part of me believes that a proposition that has been accepted and believed by so many people must be true. Then another part of me counters that a lot of people believed that the earth was flat, also.

How can self-acceptance lead to change? Well, trying to change pits one part of oneself against another part. Part of me is going along as usual while another part is trying to uproot that habit.

Internal conflict does not seem conducive to change. Although the two conflicting parts of me might have equal strength, it is more probable that the disliked aspect is stronger, if only because it has been present in my life longer than the desire to change it. On the third hand, the desire to change may also have been present for a long period of time, even if I act on it only occasionally.

Maybe this idea of acceptance is like luring the trait into thanking that it has won and getting it to lower its defenses. Maybe acceptance subdues the warfare enough for one's intrinsic goodness to shine through.

Carl says that acceptance means that 'I can change.' Not that change happens automatically, but that change becomes possible. Do I wait for the self-acceptance to take effect, and then go back to trying to change myself? What kind of self-acceptance would it be if it's intended to be only temporary, to induce a lull in the internal conflict between what is and what is desired?

This reminds me of the hymn, "Just as I am, without one plea, save that Thy blood was shed for me, and that Thou biddest me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, I come, I come." Just as we are, the Divine calls us to engage with life and work to repair the world. Just as we are is the only way open to us to do anything, because we are as we are.

Maybe if we accept how we are, yet behave as if we were better than that, the make-believe will become real. It's worth a try.
1:38 pm pdt

Saturday, June 11, 2005
Two views

Albert Einstein wrote:

There are two ways to look at life. One is as though nothing is a miracle; the other is as though everything is.

He reminds me of the joke, there are two kinds of people in the world, people who divide all people into two kinds of people, and people who don't.

But seriously, folks, the saying gets at whether one has a sense of the spiritual. A thoroughgoing materialist will see only natural laws at work, and the good or bad deeds of humans. A person of spirit sees the hand of the divine behind the scenes.

Seeing everything as a miracle and a gift from the universe leads to emotions of appreciation and gratitude that are very good for one's mental health, as well as spiritual health.
10:07 pm pdt

The scrolls of our days

Here's a piece of daily inspiration:

Days are scrolls: write on them only what you want remembered.

It's pretty straightforward advice. Don't do things that you'll be ashamed of later. Try to find opportunities to do good. Enjoy the good things that come your way. Don't miss today because you're too busy rehashing yesterday or anticipating tomorrow. Great advice, to which I should be paying more attention.

We want to make each day meaningful according to our own system of ethics or morals - Buddhist, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, etc. In the legal biz we call this concept 'incorporation by reference,' except that there's no explicit reference to standards of conduct. There is just the implication that we each need some ruler to judge what actions we want remembered from those we don't want remembered.

It's a little vague who is doing the remembering, but the saying seems to be referring to people other than ourselves - 'what you want remembered' (when you're gone, or when others think of you).

Here's a related bit of wisdom, from a Buddhist point of view:

The way toward liberation is to train yourself to live in the present without any wanting to become anything. Give up becoming this or that, live without cravings, and experience this present moment with full attention. Then you will not cringe at death nor seek for repeated birth.

The whole concept of 'Be here now' is so simple yet so difficult to follow. The Buddhist flavor of this saying shows in the injunction to live without cravings, because suffering comes from attachment. To those of us who fear death, the sage suggests that being mindful in the present moment can help us relieve that fear.

The suggestion that we give up trying to become this or that is intriguing. I think the point is that focusing on changing who we are would be fruitless and take us away from the present moment.

Anyway, these are good bits of advice, and remembering them each morning would help us begin the day in a promising state of mind.
9:34 pm pdt

Friday, June 10, 2005
End of the Desiderata

The last bit is:
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
It's pretty self-explanatory. There are many other negative characteristics of the world that could have been listed, but the author is adhering to his usual approach of de-emphasizing the negatives. There are places where the world is not beautiful - mostly where it has been scarred by the thoughtless rapine of greedy people. But he's talking about more intangible ugliness - sham, drudgery and broken dreams.

He has written of faking emotions already, but now he's talking about phoniness in general, which is inimical to sustaining relationships. He's talking about the drudgery of having to earn a living and keeping one's home, or someone else's, in order, of having to make do with what little one has. And he's talking about broken dreams, dreams of sustaining relationships, of satisfying work, of simple survival in areas torn by war or terrorism or famine or disease.

But, by and large, the (mostly) untouched contours of the earth, the plants and the animals remain to remind us of the halcyon beauty of the days before human desecration of the planet.

He assumes that we can be cheerful by simple design and effort, and maybe we can. Optimism can be learned, as can a positive approach to life. On the other hand, we have to strive to be happy. Happiness is a bit harder to come by, especially in strained circumstances. But it's worth the effort, because it is a positive state that transforms all that touches us into reasons to rejoice and be thankful.

I'm recovering from some oral surgery, and have been reminded to be grateful for the antibiotics that I'm taking to prevent disabling, and possibly fatal, infection - instead of kvetching about the hugeness of the capsules that makes them difficult to swallow or the icky taste of the powder inside, when I remove it from the capsule for easier ingestion. I can ask for the swift healing of the operative site, and that the site and device that was implanted there heal well, and that the implant does what it's supposed to do. And then I can take the best care that I can of the site and leave the rest to God.

Anyway, that's the end of our excursion into the Desiderata. Thanks for coming along. I'll get back to the backlog of bits of wisdom in future.
1:36 pm pdt

Monday, June 6, 2005
Nearing the end of the Desiderata

Here's the next to last bit:

Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be and whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
So here we get explicitly spiritual, in a very 12-step vein. Step 3 is "Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him." That allows allegiance to a Higher Power in whatever form works for you - a Jewish, Christian, or Muslim deity, the universe, the power of the combined members of A.A., etc.

What does it mean to be at peace with God? Well, the usual meanings of peace include the absence of war, or the presence of harmony or wholeness. Fighting with God is pretty futile, although arguing with God has a long tradition. Being in harmony with God is desirable, but Lord save us from people who are sure that their view of God is absolutely correct and final. As to wholeness, bringing the Divine into all aspects of one's life, even the furtive, secret parts, is a very good thing.

As to:

whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul,

I don't quite know how the clauses are connected. It might mean not to let your career and your dreams, as well as the vicissitudes of life, pull you away from your center. Don't let the noise and snares of the world draw you away from your inner quiet. Don't let setbacks and failures destroy your hopes and peace. I guess.

As to what I conceive God to be, I waver between 'the universe,' 'the being I pray to,' and 'the being who gets my gratitude when I feel grateful.' I can also get into God the creator and healer, and the spirit of whom our souls are part. I like the idea of finding divine guidance in perplexity, but don't see myself as living a life of unmitigated obedience in all things.

Anyway, may you be at peace with God as you conceive Him, Her, or It to be.
7:14 pm pdt

Sunday, June 5, 2005
And yet more Desiderata

Did I mention that this was written by a fellow named Max Ehrmann in the 1920's? Since it became so popular in the late 60s, it seems to have the flavor of that time, but instead it dates from the Roaring 20s. I wish I knew enough about that time to make an historically informed interpretation.

Anyway, here's today's portion, the bit that I remembered a few weeks ago:

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

That we are children of the universe is literally true, at the atomic level. The atoms now in us are nearly indestructible and have been all over the planet - in the trees and rocks and oceans and clouds, and in every historical figure we might care to name. They are nearly immortal and are so efficiently dispersed at our deaths that everyone who is born a century or two from now (assuming that the planet hasn't been rendered unlivable by then) will have some of our atoms in them.

I have some trouble with believing that I have a right to be here. I think it's part of the perfectionistic thing, or the unworthiness thing, or of perfectionism arising in response to a sense of unworthiness, or whatever. But I'm working on feeling at home on planet Earth, even if I'm not entirely satisfied with myself.

It is also very hard at times to believe that the universe is unfolding as it should - in light of tsunamis and global warming and genocide and nuclear weapons and bioweapons and the myriad ways in which we harm the planet and each other. I'm inclined to believe that the free will given to humans, and perhaps - in some sense - to the planet, helps account for these harmful and destructive things.

It is comforting to believe that above and beyond free will is a cosmic architect who created the whole show and takes an interest in how it is working out. And at times I do believe that - that the universe has an innate intelligence and purpose that are working for good, that there is someone out there who hears prayers and who is there to be thanked for what's good in our lives and in the world, and who brings goodness into the world to the extent that we invite him/her/it in and stay out of his/her/its way or participate in the good work.

Anyway, that's what I believe on a good day.

Have a good day yourselves.
12:24 pm pdt

Wednesday, June 1, 2005
Today's chunk

So today we have:

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

I'm beginning to sense a theme - avoid the extremes of each trait. Seek the middle way.

So, how does one nurture strength of spirit? A consistent spirituality, including a focus on gratitude for the big and small good things in one's life can certainly help. Having a strong community and a few close friends is no doubt helpful. Trying for an optimistic view of life can't hurt. Spending time adding to the kindness, goodness, or beauty of one's own little corner of the world. Stuff like that.

I can only serve as a bad example of distressing myself with imaginings. Panic attacks, or at least mine, have as a primary feature a sense that death is imminent. That surely is a distressing imagining. As a pessimist, I do myself harm by imagining the worst that can happen in an upcoming situation, instead of the best. At least I'm aware of these tendencies in myself and try to resist them from time to time.

Fears born of fatigue and loneliness. Yup, that sounds about right. Fatigue encourages pessimism. And fears thrive on isolation and a lack of perspective on the situation that might be supplied by someone else.

And here comes another of the happy medium injunctions. Be gentle with yourself but exercise a wholesome discipline - not too much, not too little. Don't expect perfection or military precision or complete self-knowledge or utter insight, but do make an effort to fulfill your responsibilities to yourself, others, your community, and your country.

Take good care of your body and spirit and indulge them when indulgence is called for, and exercise discipline when that is called for. I waver between perfectionism and over-indulgence - which are really two sides of the same coin. If I can't be perfect then I don't want to try at all. And if I'm feeling bad because I'm not perfect, then I tend to over-indulge, usually in food.

I'm reminded of a saying attributed to Martin Luther, who likened humans to a drunkard trying to ride an ass - first he falls off on one side and then he falls off on the other. The goal is to stay on the ass's back, but that may be beyond our reach at this time.

So, let's be gentle with ourselves out there.
8:32 pm pdt

Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Desiderata and aging

Today's bit is:

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Oh boy. Aging - one of my favorite topics. I take it that the first part means to accumulate and appreciate the wisdom that our life experience has taught us - even (especially?) if we learned it the hard way. I can remember a few things that my mother used to say, and even occasionally remember them at the time when I can use the advice. I've learned a few things about myself over the years, as well as a certain cynicism about how the world works.

There may be thoughts and perspectives that don't come to us until we realize that we've fewer years ahead of us than we have behind us. We should try to cherish these thoughts, because they can help us make the most of our lives now.

There's a book by Betty Friedan called "The Fountain of Age" (which I only recently figured out was a play on 'fountain of youth'), which I was sent accidentally by the paperback book club some years ago. I'm about ready to read it now and see what she has to say about being a middle-aged woman in America.

One thing I've noticed is the classic invisibility (but then I've always been able to blend into the woodwork when I want to). Another interesting development is that young people are starting to give me their seats on the bus. I'm of two minds about that. I'm not that old yet, so I must be looking particularly weary - which doesn't please me. On the other hand, I and my lower back really appreciate sitting down. So, I have been glad to take any offered seat.

"Gracefully surrendering the things of youth." Not quite sure what he's talking about here - physical and mental abilities? Toys and play? Thinking of oneself as young? Youthful clothing and hairstyles? Avoiding responsibility? Refusing to make choices that rule out other choices? Hair that isn't gray? Whatever these things of youth may be, I'm probably going to be torn between gracefully surrendering them and fighting tooth and nail to retain them.

Let's see. I have a few other thoughts about aging. I'm probably going to hate it. Part of me resists losing physical and mental abilities that I may not have made the most of while I had them. Part of me wishes that I could lead a more exciting or meaningful life while I have some energy. Part of me insists that I could have more capability and energy if I only ate more healthily, exercised more, did yoga regularly, etc. Part of me thinks that I may eventually feel regret that I never had a child. I think of the slogan, "Old age is not for sissies," and feel like a sissy.

When I'm in an optimistic mood, on the other hand, I'm looking forward to some of changes that are going to happen in myself and the world. For example, I've wanted for years to see what shade of gray my hair would become. And it looks like I may get the silvery hue that I covet. Other things could turn out well. Who knows?
10:09 pm pdt

Monday, May 30, 2005
Still more desiderata

Today's bit is:

Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

At first it seems that we already are ourselves; who else could we be? But although our identity probably remains the same, we can easily behave in ways that do not accord with our nature. People pleasers, for example, and many of us at some time or other, will shade our opinions to avoid clashing with those of others.

Similarly, sometimes we are inclined to disagree with someone for the sake of disagreement, or to be disagreeable, when we don't actually disagree.

Acting unlike ourselves is not always a bad thing, e.g., when we act more cheerfully or friendly than we actually feel.

I think the main teaching here is not to lose track of who we actually are or what we actually feel or believe, even if it may not be helpful to express oneself fully and honestly at the time.

Do not feign affection. Well, yeah. That can cause all sorts of trouble, as well as major hurt feelings when the truth finally comes out - which it will. Admittedly, the line between social friendliness and faux affection is fairly narrow, but it needs to be maintained.

Don't be cynical about love, it says. I don't know if my problem is cynicism, but I can't tell if what I'm feeling for somebody is love, and I don't know what to do when someone professes love for me (even, especially, non-romantic love). It seems to me sometimes that my receptors for love have atrophied. As a result, sometimes I don't have a place to put love that is offered to me.

Love springs up despite unwelcoming circumstances, it says here. I hope so; the world has plenty of hate. A resurgence of simple liking would be delightful.
11:02 am pdt

Sunday, May 29, 2005
More desiderata

Today's bit is as follows:

Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.

The first item of advice applies only to people who have a career, and then probably applies only to some of the people some of the time. It wouldn't be good advice for a workaholic, or for someone whose life would be improved by going in a different career direction. As for me, I'm proud of what I've accomplished, but have been losing steam for a couple of years. I'm starting to think about retirement, as soon as I have some plans in place to keep me from becoming part of my couch.

Also, in these uncertain times, layoffs are common, and retention of a career is often not up to us.

As to exercising caution in one's business affairs, I second the motion. Having gone through law school, I know that oral agreements are worth the paper they're (not) written on. That is to say, get it in writing, and read the papers before you sign them.

In the same spirit, let's us not treat others with deception or treachery in business matters (or in any other way, for that matter).

As to keeping an eye out for virtue, a good place to begin is by not leaping to assign the worst possible motives for others' behavior (I know I've written this before, but, as a fairly cynical person, I need to hear it often). It might not be a bad idea to be alert to opportunities to exercise one's own virtue (writes she to herself).

There seems to be a connection between my current opinion of myself and my opinion of others. If I'm feeling good about myself, I tend to give others the benefit of the doubt, and vice versa.
As to heroism, the kind I've mostly seen up close is the quiet coping with circumstances that could easily crush someone's spirit.

Well, it's a lovely day in the village, and I need to get out for a walk. Have a good one.
12:11 pm pdt

Saturday, May 28, 2005
Desiderata, part 2

So, here's the next paragraph.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Considering the desire for quiet expressed in the first paragraph, this first sentence seems to follow naturally. I try to avoid loud persons, or to get friends to quiet down when they become loud, because emotional intensity, especially of the aggressive sort, unsettles me.

On the other hand, it might be a kindness to point out to someone that he or she is making others uncomfortable, especially if the person is not from New York and therefore has a possibility of modifying his or her behavior. (joke, sort of)

Comparing oneself with others is a snare and a delusion. Most of the time. Especially if there is a great disparity between yourself and another. For example, if I feel anxious and unloved and am envying people who seem happy and connected, I could be simply wrong. Twelve-step wisdom says that it is counter-productive and often misleading to compare one's insides with another's outsides.

On the other hand, if the other person seems only a little bit more together or accomplished, or a bit less together professionally or socially, he or she may be a good example to emulate or a bad example to avoid. For example, many times in my life I've gone in a new direction when I saw somebody doing something admirable and saying to myself that I could do that, too. And I have plenty of examples in my life to convince me not to smoke, drink, or use drugs.

Enjoying one's achievements is a lesson many of us can learn, I'd guess. There's a Puritan sense out there that one shouldn't bask in one's accomplishments, or at least not for long. Even commercials, not to mention one's superiors at work, encourage people to move forward immediately from an accomplishment to the next task - e.g., what has Sheraton done for you lately. I think we'd all be that much happier if we took a bit more time to appreciate ourselves for what we've accomplished, even if it was only a small thing like taking one cookie for dessert and no more.

Then there's the bit about enjoying one's plans. This is also good advice. We who are anxious, and probably others for other reasons, often view plans with mixed emotions. Like when I was thinking about the congregational retreat, the possibility of it being unsatisfactory or overwhelming left me wondering whether I did the right thing to sign up and led me to make contingency plans to escape if need be, as well as plans to make myself as comfortable and content as possible while there. It turned out to be a very good experience, perhaps in part because I had escape plans.

All in all, a pretty good batch of advice. Have a happy and safe Memorial Day weekend.
12:00 pm pdt

Friday, May 27, 2005
Desiderata, part 1

I was recently reminded of the part of the Desiderata that begins, "You are a child of the universe." You remember the Desiderata, I imagine. It was the counterculture credo of the late 60s, and was everywhere - on posters, on postcards, all over the place.

I looked it up on the web and pulled a copy of it. I haven't looked closely at it yet, but it strikes me so far as a blending of Buddhist, Unitarian, and Transcendentalist thought, with a thick sprinkling of Ben Franklin and Shakespeare thrown in for good measure.

Anyway, I thought I'd take a paragraph of it every so often and muse on it a bit. Here's the first paragraph:

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.

As a person who is subject to anxiety and panic, I can really appreciate advice to be placid and calm. There are noise and haste aplenty in the modern world, and I hate them both. Last night I came across a small group of people who were sitting in front of a TV, and the volume was loud enough to wake the dead. If they weren't somewhat deaf already, that assault on their ear drums alone must have damaged their hearing. I wanted to put my fingers in my ears, because my hearing is still pretty good and I want to keep it that way.

On the other hand, I probably already have too much silence in my life. Maybe I'm overcorrecting for the excessive noise around me, but only occasionally do I think about playing some of my classical music LPs and CDs. As a music major, I waver between paying full attention to music and shoving it into the background. On the third hand, although silence can be peaceful and healing, it can also be a bit lonely.

I've gotten pretty good at using silence, or time alone while walking or riding, to play with my mental blocks. They sometimes make pretty patterns.

Being on good terms with others is a pretty high value for me. My feelings get hurt easily. I hate it when somebody is angry with me, and I don't much prefer being angry at others. It can be a temptation for me to hedge my views a bit to stay on good terms with someone, but I don't bend them very far.

Speaking my truth; hmm. Well, I'm not a very good liar. I try to be honest and to be a person whose word can be counted on. As far as sharing my views of the universe and myself, that's what I'm doing right now. And my narrow corner of the blogosphere is pretty quiet.

Listening to others. A very good thing to do, and a good way to contribute to people's happiness, including my own. As I wrote yesterday, being fully present with people is something I want to work on.

All told, a good batch of advice to start with. I wonder how it would strike others who have issues that are different from mine.
10:27 am pdt

Thursday, May 26, 2005
Present in friendship

Today's bit of wisdom is from an essay by Steven Smith:

Whenever we are unconditionally present, the friend before us feels affirmed, safe, and seen on the deepest level so that the goodness and authenticity of his or her being shines forth. In this moment the friendship is a sacred connection.

I was struck by the phrase 'unconditionally present.' Being fully present should be a lot easier than having unconditional love or acceptance, but it's still pretty hard.

When others talk to us, we have a tendency to be working on our response, or remembering something related, or planning some future activity. It might take a serious meditation practice to still the 'monkey mind' enough to confine oneself to simply listening to another person and doing or thinking nothing else.

I've experienced this full attention from a couple of other people and it does have a special healing quality. It would be a very good gift for me to be able to offer.

However, multi-tasking is the way of the world. Even before it became a word, multi-tasking was one of my strong points. In high school, I distinctly remember that I could knit, watch TV, and read a homework assignment at the same time - with equal success in all three endeavors. On the other hand, I could concentrate so completely on reading in a schoolbus that all the noise would fade away.

If I could concentrate on a person as fully as I can on a book, I'd be on my way towards achieving unconditional presence. First there's screening out outside distractions, then comes the difficult part of stilling the internal dialog.
11:18 am pdt

Tuesday, May 24, 2005
The nature of God

A big subject for a fairly short posting. The primary tenet of Judaism is that God is one. I understand that the main point of this pronouncement at the time it was first made was that Judaism is a monotheistic religion. It proclaims that there is only one God, not many. Even within that oneness, though, Jewish prayers highlight different aspects of God - as creator, as redeemer, as sovereign, etc.

In a similar, but far less exalted, way, I view God in ways that differ with the context. I think of God as the universe when seeking or acknowledging guidance. This means that I take coincidences as significant. For example, when the third Jewish-related aspect showed up in my life, I took it as indicating that I should get back involved with my synagogue.

Another view I have of God is as the person whom I thank or praise for the beautiful things and pleasures in life, and when a danger to me has been averted. E.g., when a slip doesn't turn into a fall, or a collision is narrowly avoided.

God is also the person to pray to, for others or for myself. Most often I pray using the Buddhist loving-kindness meditation - May [whoever] be kind and loving; may he/she be peaceful and at ease; may she/he be well; may (s)he be happy.

Finally, and this might be a little idolatrous, I pray to God in the aspect of the parking goddess.
1:14 pm pdt

Saturday, May 21, 2005
Good advice?

Advice is not a 'one size fits all' proposition. Some advice is good for most people most of the time. Some advice is good for most people some of the time. Some advice is good for some people most of the time. And some advice is good for some people some of the time. Part of the trick to taking advice is figuring out whether it is good advice for you at this time.

Yesterday's bit of Buddhist wisdom was a saying of the Buddha's as follows:

Think not of the faults of others, of what they have done or not done. Think rather of your own sins, of the things you have done or not done.

Part of that advice is good for me at this time and part most emphatically is not.

I think that the first part, about not dwelling on the faults of others, is good advice for most people most of the time. I don't think that much good can come from focusing on others' failings. Most of the likely results are bad - anger, resentment, bitterness, etc.

Now, it may be helpful when one is experiencing hurt feelings after an encounter with someone to consider what that person may have done to bring them about, but then there are many choices about how to deal with the situation, and none of them involve brooding on the other's faults. One can, say, let the situation go. One can assign the best possible motive to the other person and let it go. One can consider whether to gently inform the other person that certain behavior hurts your feelings, and then let it go. Or other possibilities that aren't occurring to me just now. In short, there are many possible responses that don't involve dwelling on the other's failings.

On to the second half of the advice - to think of one's own sins, of what one has done or not done. This may be good advice to some of the people some of the time, at least to think about them long enough to figure out what one could have done better and to resolve to seek that better approach the next time such a situation arises.

After that, though, I think that brooding on one's own sins can be counter-productive. For people who are perfectionists, considering one's own failings is an all too frequent occurrence, and tends to bring despair. For one with issues of self-esteem, such ruminations are also unhelpful. And for folks who are depressed, such thoughts are poison. Since I'm three for three in terms of having these traits, I would be well advised to avoid dwelling on my own faults. Enough is enough already.
9:21 am pdt

Friday, May 20, 2005
A matter of perspective

I was walking to some music this noon; the selections were chosen to maintain one's pace for an aerobic walking workout. I noticed how the pace of the music seemed to vary now and then from the established tempo, and how the volume of the music seemed to increase and decrease.

As to the tempo, I think the blips were just slight variations in speed that were part of the musical interpretation of the selection. However, they could also have been differences in my perception of the speed instead of actual differences in the tempo. I've really experienced this phenomenon when playing music to a metronome's beat. It's simply amazing how that beat speeds up during the difficult sections and slows down during the easier bits. In that case, it's clearly my perception of the speed that varies with the difficulty of the music, since the whole point of using a metronome is that it keeps a uniform and steady beat.

I also noticed that the volume of the music seemed to wax and wane. Now this could be the result of a failing battery, I suppose, but I think it was another perception thing. The volume seemed lowest when there was the most ambient noise where I was walking - e.g., a bus passing by. So the music was harder to hear against all that ambient sound but hadn't actually changed volume.

Anyway, I think that these phenomena are a little lesson that many seeming changes in life are not actual changes in the thing or situation being observed but instead are due to changes in the perspective of the observer. Which sounds a bit like a physics lesson.
1:16 pm pdt

Wednesday, May 18, 2005
So much for Jeopardy

Apart from being really nervous during the 15 minutes before the door to the testing room was opened, I enjoyed the testing experience. We had a warm up game with those who had the answer raising our hands. Then there was a welcoming video of Alex Trebek and the clue crew giving us the rules of the test.

Then came the actual test, 50 questions that showed up on the video screen, together with their category, and were read to us by Johnny Gilbert, the voice of Jeopardy. We had eight seconds after he finished reading the question in which to write down the answer. Not a lot of time.

There were about 80 of us, and only two of us passed the test; not me. However, our table debriefed after the test, and I got nearly all the questions that others at the table were asking about. So I don't think that I missed the cut by much.

It was very gratifying to be able to answer as many questions as I did get. It was worth a shot and was fun. And I can try again once a year until I either pass or admit defeat.
5:30 pm pdt

In Jeopardy?

After applying online, I was selected to audition to be a contestant on Jeopardy! My appearance on the show is by no means certain. First I have to pass a very difficult written test. If I do so, then I'm further tested in a mock game of Jeopardy for stage presence and coolness under fire. If I pass that test, my name goes on a list of people who might be called to come to the studio. Even if I get called to the studio, there is no guarantee that I would get on the show. So, it's a many-layered and exacting process to get on the show, with many an opportunity to get ruled out.

The audition is today, and I am a bit nervous and a bit excited. After I reminded myself aloud that I have chosen to do this, my friend suggested that I could use the experience in my blog no matter how it went. That makes sense to me; it would seem to make excellent blog fodder.

So, stay tuned for my report on the experience.
11:59 am pdt

Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Optimism and problem solving

Yesterday's inspirational quote was:

The first step towards the solution of any problem is optimism.

Even though I'm a lifelong pessimist, I have to concur. Without optimism, I cannot entertain the possibility that there might even be a solution to the current problem. Without optimism, I certainly wouldn't be looking for a solution.

I often justify my pessimism on the grounds that the only surprises I receive are pleasant ones. On the other hand, life without some degree of optimism is limited and rather bleak.

For example, if I didn't have any optimistic hope that I might get something out of the congregational retreat, I wouldn't have gone, and would have missed all the benefits of the weekend. On the other hand, my pessimistic side made sure that I drove alone, so I would be able to flee the retreat if the need arose.

For me to become a total optimist would probably require a personality transplant - or some really potent medication - but I could try to make a habit of accepting any bits of optimism that the universe kindly sends my way.
2:01 pm pdt

Monday, May 16, 2005
A good weekend

My trip went really well, once I was out of the horrible 'rush hour heading into the weekend' traffic that I encountered on the way there.

Walker Creek Ranch is well situated in a valley between green, rolling hills. There are lots of birds around; I personally recognized many quail and a turkey. If there's one thing that I regret about the weekend, it was that I didn't spend enough time letting myself relax into the calm of the place.

My lodgings were in a nice cabin with a kitchen and a suite of bedrooms, each of which housed between one and four persons. I was in a two-person room and had a mellow roommate whom I had met at services when she delivered the sermon.

We adults shared the cabin with one toddler who was on the loud and inquisitive side, but he calmed down a bit over the course of the weekend. There was also a young girl who spent most of the weekend tooling around on her bicycle.

I got to play ping pong (which I hadn't for years) and ride briefly on a kid's bike myself. That was fun.

The weather was cool to cold. I spent most of the time in a warm jacket and alternated between a sunhat (because you can get a sunburn through clouds) during the days and a very warm astrakhan hat after dark.

My nerves and appetite were fine. And I managed to find someone to talk with whenever I was tempted to isolate myself, but also got enough alone time to keep me from feeling overwhelmed. For example, I spent a little time flaking out on the grass with a book.

Both evenings I played games with a small group of women until bedtime - Trivial Pursuit, Dictionary, and Scrabble. They had an interesting twist on Scrabble; each player had to write a story that used all the words that were on the board when the game was over. That was fun, especially fitting the word 'eely' into a sentence.

I spent most of Saturday in Sabbath-appropriate events (a meditation session, a brief morning service, and a Torah study) for adults (half the attendees, or more, were families with young children) that were led by a very friendly and knowledgeable member of the congregation whose sermons I had enjoyed and with whom I had spoken at synagogue services and when I ran into him on a streetcar back in San Francisco.

The food was vegetarian and OK, and I didn't feel the need to snack between meals, but did nosh during the evening games. I cooked and ate two marshmallows at the campfire Saturday night, and sang along on several folk songs.

I had a brief counseling session with the rabbi on Saturday, and she asked me how I felt about being around all the children. I responded that they were not my favorite people and were noisy, but that I didn't actually know any kids.

Later that evening I discovered more feelings that I had about the children. I envied them for having one or two functional parents who thought that their children were the best thing since sliced bread. I had a drug abuser and an alcoholic for parents, and was raised by grandparents until I was 11, then by my father (who was still abusing drugs) for four years, and then by my mother (who had sobered up), who disavowed any intent to actually bring us up - she just said that she would see that my brother and I were clothed, fed, and housed.

I feel the results of my lack of parenting every day. This insight resulted in a spate of crying, which was somewhat cathartic, and I talked about it with the rabbi and one or two of the other women there. They were impressed with my insight and ability/willingness to experience the tears and share my feelings, and were very supportive.

The last morning we engaged in 'divine discussions' with one other person at a time about issues such as the nature of God, our relationship with the divine, when we felt close to God, when we were in a spiritual desert, and what does it mean to pray that 'God is one.' Each person spoke, uninterrupted, for two and a half minutes, then the other person did the same. Then we rotated to share our thoughts about the next question with a different person. That experience was so cool. We got to hear the other persons' views and to get a clearer understanding of our own views and experiences.

Now I feel like I know something real about a dozen others or so, and have many more people to talk with, and about more personal things, at the coffee hour after services. And I feel a lot more like part of the community.

In short, the weekend went well and I'm very glad that I attended the retreat.
12:27 pm pdt

Friday, May 13, 2005
Fun in the sun?

In a fit of wild optimism and daring, I signed up for a congregational retreat this weekend. We have 'retreats' now; we used to be so literal minded that we only had 'advances.'

I had a really hard time with my appetite and nerves the last time I was away from home, for a week, so I may have chosen this weekend event as a way of sticking my toes back into the water of trips away from home.

There should be a calming effect of being away from the city; there may be lovely views; and there are supposed to be interesting activities scheduled with friendly people. And if any of that doesn't appeal, I can take all the downtime I want or need to take - none of the activities is mandatory. Although mealtimes are of some interest.

On the third hand, I've heard such dire things about the facilities from a friend who was there recently that I had a nightmare last night about all sorts of things going wrong the first day I was there. That is not a hopeful frame of mind to be starting out in. I'm driving there alone, so if it gets really bad I can just go home. I'm also preparing for the most likely pitfalls - bringing really warm clothes, really light clothes (plus sunscreen, insect repellant, and a sun hat), and some in between clothes, plus really warm night gear in case the room is chilly.

Which all goes to say that I don't know how much will be fun and how much will be less enticing. But I'm trying to keep an open mind, and will probably get a lot of help from the Buddhist loving-kindness meditation: "May I be kind and loving. May I be peaceful and at ease. May I be well. May I be happy."

Have a good weekend yourselves.
12:47 pm pdt

Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Let goodness grow

Here's a recent bit of Buddhist wisdom.

Cause good qualities to grow in others In the same way (you wish them) for yourself.

It reminds me of a sermon I once gave that likened Joseph to Pollyanna. She caused personal growth in the people around her by assuming the best possible motives for their actions. Up to which they then lived.

Which reminded me of the way that Joseph forgave his brothers for selling him into slavery because he saw a divine purpose of placing him in Egypt to handle the food distribution during the famine and save lives. Not an exact correspondence, but they seemed related to me at the time.

So, it brings out the best in others if we assume that they're not trying to get us, but instead are acting from recognizably human motives. Contrariwise, it helps us increase our own goodness if we cut ourselves the same amount of slack that we would cut for someone else whom we liked.

I don't claim to have mastered either branch of this prescription, but I like to think that I make occasional bits of progress.
2:49 pm pdt

Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Train of thought, derailed

Have you ever found yourself thinking something a bit removed from what's actually going on at the time and wondering how you got there? So you trace one thought back to the one that prompted it and that thought back to its predecessor, and so on, until you find the first thought in the chain and whatever prompted it. Usually with a glad, "Aha!" The process is both solving a mystery and a test of our mental acuity.

I was having something of that kind of train of thought this morning and would like to try to reconstruct it for you. I was thinking about some aerobic walking that I've been doing lately, to classical music that has been chosen for having particular tempi of a certain number of beats per minute. The first time I tried the beginner level (the first time for maybe a dozen years, that is), it seemed very fast and left me somewhat tired. But the second time seemed less frantic, and I expect that improvement to continue until it becomes so easy that I move up to a faster paced routine.

However, the point that came to me was how you have to expend energy to build the stamina to have more energy to do the things you want to do, like dancing or hiking. So we have to let go of the comfort of a sauntering pace in walking to get the stamina to walk more easily and longer.

This reminded me of my musings before about how something has to exit our lives to make room for something new to enter. I thought about the (possibly apocryphal) monkey trap that is in the form of a box with something monkeys really like inside, with a small hole for the monkey to stick its hand through to grab the thing. Then, however, the fist around the thing is too big to get out through the hole, and the monkey is trapped, because it doesn't have the mental sophistication to know that it can get loose by letting go of the thing.

Then I thought about whether humans are any more sophisticated in our thinking. We often hang on to what were once useful survival tools until they become significant hindrances to our mental health and personal enjoyment. In my case, for example, I'd just follow orders and suppress any countervailing emotions or memories when I had to move from one city and guardian to another. Those traits haven't been very helpful in helping me to remember my past or to face change with anything other than apprehension.

We also hang on to pleasures that may not be so bad in themselves, but that get in the way of us getting something better. There is a saying about how God can't fill a closed fist. Sometimes we need to open our hand and let go of what's inside, or we'll be as trapped as that monkey, and be missing out on some better thing that could have been ours. I'm kinda like that, too, preferring the comfort of the familiar over the risk of change.

I have a feeling that there were a few other stations that this train of thought stopped at when I was riding it this morning, but this is enough traveling for now.
10:25 am pdt

Saturday, May 7, 2005
Don't look back, really?

Today's bit of inspiration comes from Satchel Paige: Don't look back. Something might be gaining on you.

I can see in the literal sense that looking back is a bad idea if one is running in a race or running the bases in a game of baseball. As to metaphorical looking back, I'm of two minds.

Let's start with unhelpful looking back; with regret, anger, or bitterness, or thinking that one could'a, would'a, or should'a handled a situation better. Such feelings tend to blight one's present, unless you use them to guide your actions in the future. Looking towards the past can also lead to trying to live in better days in one's memory. Judging the present in contrast with halcyon days of the past is usually unhelpful. It is limiting to believing that one's present and future are immutably going to follow the patterns of the past. Etc.

The popularity of memoirs indicates some of the positive reasons for looking back. To save memories of times that will become interesting to posterity. To try to sort one's experiences into patterns that one can avoid or seek out (depending on how you feel about the particular pattern) in the future. To gain perspective on unpleasant experiences or circumstances and to offer acceptance or forgiveness where they are needed. To consider pleasant experiences and how they can be recreated. To consider problems in the past that haven't recurred recently and figure out how that happened.

There are a number of good reasons to be looking into one's past, but all of them should lead to improvements in one's present. If looking backwards isn't helpful, don't do it.
10:49 am pdt

Thursday, May 5, 2005
Compassion

Today's bit of Buddhist wisdom is "Compassion is the best healer."

I read this three different ways, all of them equally valid. Assume that you are the one in need of healing. When someone displays compassion for you, that helps you heal. I've often experienced this with friends and medical personnel. Some people I feel better for just being with, even before anything they may have done for me could possibly have taken effect.

Second, if you can reach beyond yourself to have compassion for someone else, that helps put your own problems into a larger perspective, and they'll at least seem better. This one is harder, but I do feel better when I'm praying for the well-being of someone else.

Finally, having compassion for oneself can free up healing energies. This is the hardest one for me. There's a pretty narrow line between self-compassion and self-pity, and I frequently cross it. Then there's my perfectionism. I have a hard time navigating between Scylla and Charybdis.

I have a friend who often tells me not to 'flog myself' to do something that I hope will be fun, if I'm low on energy or optimism. Other advice has been to cut myself some slack and not expect more of myself than I would of someone else who I was fond of. These attitudes do not come easily to a perfectionist, but I'm trying (very trying, to some) to cultivate them.

Compassion means "Sympathetic consciousness of others' distress together with a desire to alleviate it." I don't know how many people can handle that degree of awareness for all people all the time, but even brief flashes of it are good for what ails oneself and the world.

1:37 pm pdt

Friday, April 29, 2005
Exits and entries

Today's quote is from Tom Stoppard: "Every exit is an entry somewhere else."

It reminded me of the saying that God never closes a door without opening a window. Or the one about God not being able to fill a closed hand - the point being that one has to let go of what has served its purpose to be able to receive something new.

I didn't do so well in the personal essay writing class, where I expected to start OK and end better. The concepts were fairly clear, but I just couldn't execute them while writing. Maybe that isn't the direction I should be going in, or maybe I just need to write more until the knack comes to me.

Gosh knows I've spent many years writing and editing materials for which a snappy lead sentence, distinct voice, and epiphany are basically anathema, so it's not easy for me to write in any style other than "Just the facts, ma'am."

So I don't know whether I should exit from the idea of being a personal essayist or keep at it for a while. Either way, I'm thinking of taking an online class (my first such educational endeavor) on humor writing. I can be really funny in person (you'll just have to take my word for that), but writing punnily (the class will be focused on puns) is not as easy.

I do like word plays, though. For example, I've been living some fifty-odd years, and some of them were very odd indeed. Or, telling a friend that I'm trying to get something done and have her reply that I'm very trying.

Anyway, here's a little vignette I wrote for the essay class, about Hannah's brother, Joe.

Joe opened the closet door. Clothes and toys and sports equipment showered down around him. There hadn't been this much stuff there when I closed the door, he thought. He had been clearing up the apartment in anticipation of a hot date. He'd changed the linens on the bed, washed, dried, and put away the dishes, and removed piles of books and other stuff off the horizontal surfaces where they had accumulated and had shoehorned the stuff onto a shelf, into a cupboard, or under furniture. He had even vacuumed and dusted.

However, every thing that he hadn't been able to find a home for had wound up in his walk-in closet - and its capacity had been exceeded three trips ago. So, when he opened the closet door - kablam!

He sat there on the floor - he'd been knocked over by the wave of stuff - and wondered how people in smaller apartments managed all their stuff. He began to think longingly in terms of a public storage unit. No time for that now, he thought, as he stood up and began to shove the stuff back into the closet.
5:15 pm pdt

Monday, April 25, 2005
Only in San Francisco?

I noted an interesting incongruity this morning. An Asian man playing a Chinese flute with appropriate ornamentation was using it to interpret the song, "Auld Lang Syne."
1:27 pm pdt

Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Looking forward

A bit of Jewish wisdom that I read recently is as follows:

Perhaps a human being does not die until he no longer sees anything but the past and the present moment.

It seems to address the same issue as the song, "Happy Talk," from South Pacific: "You gotta have a dream; if you don't have a dream, how you gonna make a dream come true?"

The many disruptions in my childhood taught me that it's useless to have a dream, because everything can change in a moment - where I'm living, the person I'm living with. And any friends or plans that I've made go out the window.

Nevertheless, you'd think I'd be dreaming dreams after becoming an adult and having control of my life (as much as anyone has, that is). And I have dreamed a few dreams.

When I learned that a friend in Junior High School had gotten straight A's on her report card, I said to myself, "I can do that," and I did. When I saw a performance of Mothertongue Readers' Theater, I said to myself, "I can do that," and joined up and performed. When I went to a High Holy Days service and heard someone chanting Kol Nidrei, I said to myself, "I can do that," and a few years later I did.

You'd think all these successes would nerve me to dream bigger dreams. Well, they did support me through the rigors of becoming a homeowner. But it would be great if I could look at someone living a meaningful life and say to myself, "I can do that."
2:41 pm pdt

Thursday, April 14, 2005
Being inconspicuous

Yesterday I read this bit of Buddhist wisdom:

To learn the path it is important to be sharp yet inconspicuous. When you are sharp, you are not confused by people; when you are inconspicuous, you don’t contend with people. Not being confused by people, you are empty and spiritual; not contending with people, you are serene and subtle.

I'm not sure if 'sharp' has the desired connotations. This is supposed to be a characteristic that keeps one from being confused by people and results in being empty and spiritual. 'Sharp' doesn't seem to be such a trait to me. In English it often suggests a quick wit, or engaging in business practices that skirt the unethical. I think that the concept they want is something more like 'grounded and clear-sighted.' These are traits that I think protect one from being confused by people and result in being spiritual. I'm also not sure what they mean by 'empty.' Perhaps one is expected to become empty of illusions and confusion and worldly distractions.

I really like the point about being inconspicuous. It brings to mind the practices of monks and nuns in not putting themselves forward. Cultivating inconspicuousness flies in the face of American standards of self-promotion. But avoiding contention with people does not mean being a doormat for abuse; I think that skillful behavior would include getting oneself out of an abusive situation.

Being inconspicuous is supposed to lead to not contending with people and consequently being 'serene' and 'subtle.' Now, I can see how a practice of avoiding discord and fading into the woodwork could lead to serenity, but I don't know about subtle. Again I think we're having a problem with the English translation. If one views subtlety as meaning being understated and easy to get along with, that makes sense. It also could mean having an impact by the power of example alone. But being 'subtle' also has a connotation of slyness, which is presumably not intended.

Anyway, these seem to be two very powerful and desirable approaches to life, ones that are worth cultivating.
11:06 am pdt

Monday, April 11, 2005
Emotional minefield

So now I'm taking this class on the personal essay, and one of the devices that the teacher uses to get our writing juices flowing is the 'free write.' This means that we take a pre-agreed period of time and write about a given topic, and keep the pen moving at all times, not going back to edit anything, not trying to control what comes out, not judging the words, just a sort of free association exercise, not unlike psychoanalysis.

At least, that's what has happened to me more often than not when I've tried the exercise so far. Any subject with the least bit of family issues or self-esteem issues, or nearly anything with emotional zing, pushes my buttons and away goes my pen to the heart of my difficulties with that issue. On the bright side, I write with candor and honesty, and have something that can be useful in understanding myself. On the down side, it's a drag having so many topics be a drag. I'd rather write light, humorous stuff, at least now and then. Maybe if I get through the major topics of my troubles I'll be free to write about other stuff. Stay tuned.
4:57 pm pdt

Monday, April 4, 2005
All or nothing?

I've been thinking lately about dualistic thinking versus a more gradualistic approach, i.e., whether a situation is black or white, or whether it admits of shades of gray.

This subject first occurred to me when I read an article about 'all or nothing' thinking being particularly harmful in the context of weight loss. If one is happy only when losing weight and unhappy on gaining weight, that sets one up for a lot of grief. It also tends to lead to responding to such unhappiness by overeating, which is unfortunate and counter-productive. A more graded approach would be not to view a weight gain as utter failure, but to see it as a temporary setback, and to retain hope that one can return to a balance of nutritious eating and sufficient exercise as often as necessary to reach and sustain a healthy weight.

Similarly, forgetting something is not necessarily a symptom of Alzheimer's disease; one can accept that some forgetfulness is within the range of normal human behavior, or one can label it a 'senior moment,' and move on.

However, some situations are in fact 'all or nothing' by their nature. This insight came to me while I was trying to spear cherry tomatoes with a fork. They kept skittering away from the fork unless it was aimed precisely at the center of the tomato. In that case, only perfection would get one of the little devils onto my fork. Similarly with some sports, e.g., a hole in one occurs only when that little ball gets into that cup on the first whack.

On the whole, though, good enough is generally good enough, even if there is room for improvement. These are words to live by.
11:49 am pdt

Wednesday, March 30, 2005
An early winter

My older brother and I were living with our grandparents and I was nine when Grandma died. She had been in the hospital for major surgery. When the doctor came to tell Grandpa, he said that they were doing some testing before releasing her, that she had vomited and aspirated, had gone into convulsions, and had not come out. I hurried my brother out of the room and told him that meant that Grandma was dead. We were stunned.

A few minutes later a friend's mother drove up to take Eric and me to language classes - him Russian and me French. Grandpa told the mother something before we drove off, but I didn't hear it.

Eric and I sat silent, like statues, in the back seat, trying to imagine what our lives would be like without her. Our silence worried the mother, and she asked us if we were OK. Fine, we said. We weren't supposed to know, so we figured that we shouldn't talk about it, I guess. Or we just didn't have the words to say.
9:42 am pst

Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Rainy day blues and oranges

It's been rainy, off and on, for a week or two, and I'm really starting to miss the sun. Not that I'm not enjoying the rain puddles, oil slicks, and sweet-smelling vegetation (as noted previously). However, my emotions are solar-powered; there's nothing like the emotional lift I get when the sun comes out after some time away.

Remember the saying, 'A day without orange juice is like a day without sunshine'? I think it first appeared in that commercial, or it may have developed in some other context and been appropriated for the commercial. Anyway, I may be succumbing to the advertisement - very belatedly, since it aired in the 60s or 70s - because I've really gotten into eating oranges recently. The taste and texture (and the fruit sugars) are good for my mood.

I kept away from oranges for a long time because their acidity disagreed with my digestion, but I do OK nowadays when I eat them with other food.

I started by enjoying the orange wedges that come with the food at my favorite Mexican restaurant. Then I began ordering four or six oranges for the organic produce box that I get every other week. I cut them into wedges and bite the flesh away from the skin. This approach cuts preparation time to a minimum and eating them this way is entertaining. I may push the order up next time, to have enough oranges to eat one every other day or so, with some left over for juicing.

I've lost several oranges to mold, but I finally figured out that I should store most of them in the refrigerator and keep only one at a time in the fruit bowl. I need to have an orange at room temperature for comfortable eating. The juice can be chilled, but biting into really cold food makes my teeth hurt.

Anyway, I think that the 'liquid sunshine' of oranges helps compensate for the absence of real sunshine recently.
11:58 am pst

Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Rejection

Here's another vignette about Hannah:

One day at work Hannah was in a bad mood. She couldn't have told you what flavor of bad - her emotions were something of a mystery to her. One of her friends came by to invite her to join a group that was going out to lunch. Being in that bad mood, she turned them down. After the friend left, she started feeling even worse, and this time she knew what parts of it were; she felt forlorn, rejected, and worthless. Then she experienced two revelations. The friends weren't rejecting her; she had rejected them. Moreover, she didn't have to stick with her choice. So she ran after them, said that she'd changed her mind, and started feeling much better.

9:34 am pst
Monday, March 14, 2005
The Bay on a windy day - haiku

Whitecaps on the Bay;
wind brushes up the waters,
making sea motion.

2:33 pm pst
Friday, March 11, 2005
Reminders re gratitude

My horoscope this morning includes the following: Staying in the present moment, however, will at least allow you to enjoy what you have now. And the day before yesterday, at my second class on using signature strengths to increase life satisfaction, the teacher shared an article from Time magazine that gave eight tips for increasing happiness, and assigned us to undertake one of them - keeping a gratitude journal by regularly writing down things that occurred recently for which one is thankful.

I am sensing a message from the universe here, since this reminder comes on top of my 'thank you' song (which I'm still singing/praying when I leave the house each day) and the berakhot that I'm still saying when eating and on seeing or smelling inspiring things while out and about.

An attitude of gratitude not only increases one's happiness but also helps to relieve anxiety and panic; it's an altogether good thing to cultivate.
9:29 am pst

Tuesday, March 8, 2005
Childish pranks

I was pretty much of a goody two-shoes growing up, but there were a few occasions on which I made trouble:

At a family occasion in Santa Monica, a friend of the family told a story about a roller coaster in France. I don't know if it was true, but we kids loved it. She said that the builders had tried to make the scariest, most exciting roller coaster ever. They were very pleased with their creation, and had tested it thoroughly with sandbags standing in for passengers. Came the dedication day and the honor of the first ride was accorded to the mayor and other city officials. However, at the end of the ride, they all were dead, their necks snapped.

Not long afterwards, my mother took me, my brother, and a cousin to Disneyland. We went on the Matterhorn Bobsleds ride, a type of roller coaster. After a little conference at the top of the ride, we had the plan. As the car neared the bottom of the mountain, we all keeled over bonelessly, as if our necks had been snapped. Mother had been watching us and knew exactly what we were doing. She stepped away from the fence and pretended that she didn't know us. When the attendants came running up to the car, we smiled sweetly up at them.

Prank two happened when I was in junior high school in Berkeley. I and some friends took the same AC Transit bus to school each morning and got to know the driver, who stepped out of the bus for a little break most mornings at University and Shattuck. I had watched him operating the bus door for many months and knew how it worked. One day when he was taking his break, I closed the door behind him. He yelled at me to open it and said it was a good thing that he had set the parking brake, because closing the door released a subsidiary brake that he usually relied on to keep the bus stationary. I felt both triumphant and guilty.

7:39 pm pst
Monday, March 7, 2005
Book fiends

This morning my walk to work was brightened by passing four or five people who were waiting outside a bookstore for it to open.

As a dedicated bookoholic, I can empathize with their eagerness to obtain new reading matter. I've visited the store on the way to work to find a particular book, and may have even waited for it to open up myself.
1:28 pm pst

Friday, March 4, 2005
Rain beauties

I took a walk in the rain this noon, and saw one lovely sight I'd never noticed before - a puddle. Now, my usual reaction to a puddle is either to figure out how I can step around it or, if I'm wearing waterproof shoes, to walk right through it. Today, however, I saw a largish puddle, say nine feet square, and actually looked at it. The individual rain drops were falling on it and sending out lovely little ripples in perfect concentric circles. It may take a particular type of rain to produce this effect, but I'm going to be watching for it in the future.

This morning I saw another rain sight that pleases me. I just love the way that oil slicks on the street become iridescent in the rain. However, my pleasure is tinged with guilt for appreciating so environmentally damaging a sight.

And then there's the way that most plant life becomes much more fragrant when rained upon. That's another great thing about rain.

So, although rain is a pain in some ways, it brings out beauty in several other ways. Let's hear it for the proverbial silver lining.
1:43 pm pst

Monday, February 28, 2005
Tree worshipper?

So, I've been thinking about the time I wanted to pray to a tree. Well, that's not quite right. I wanted to set something in the branches of the tree to make it a kind of altar. I may have tried placing something in the branches. It might have been something natural, like a flower blossom, or maybe something manmade, like a marble. I really can't remember what it was. And I couldn't imagine that anything I put on a branch would stay there through wind, rain, and snow.

I think I remember that the thing in itself wasn't holy; the point was its placement in the tree - out of doors, supported and sheltered by the green, growing, protective being of the tree.

Now I was a pretty good Jew in those days - went to Sunday School, studied Hebrew, the whole megillah. And altars are not Jewish. But maybe I was being influenced by my mother's Catholicism, and the Masses I'd been dragged to that featured a priest performing unexplained rites at the altar with his back towards us in the congregation.

There was a little something Jewish about wanting to pray while I stood and looked at the tree, though, since the most important prayers of Jewish services are prayed while standing.

I didn't come back to that tree to worship, but I still pray standing up, as well as sitting down, and instead of worshipping by myself in front of a tree, I lead worship in front of a congregation - and feel an echo of the sense I had back then of wanting to pay attention to something beyond the physical.
9:57 pm pst

Friday, February 18, 2005
Unworthiness

My horoscope for today says that my sign, Pisces, "is the sign of compassion and forgiveness. This is a time for clearing away old hurts."

I've been thinking about my nagging sense of unworthiness. It's not fact based; I have talents and skills and some admirable or lovable traits, and my efforts are appreciated at work and by my friends. Nevertheless, I have a sense of being marginal and unimportant. This may have developed, at least in part, because in my childhood my brother and I were passed from one relative to another and didn't come to live with our mother until the other relatives were dead.

I'm afraid of revealing too much of myself to others, lest they see enough of me to realize how unworthy I am. On top of which, I tend to believe that I need to be perfect or I don't deserve to exist. This "all or nothing" approach leaves me feeling bad much of the time. Only occasionally do I think to tell myself that I'm good enough, even though imperfect. As one book I read recently put it, strive for "exuberant imperfection." Or as Ashleigh Brilliant put it, "If you can't learn to do something well, learn to enjoy doing it badly."

Perhaps because of this sense of unworthiness, I imagine that I don't exist for others when I am not in their presence -- which was indeed the case with someone last year who I wanted to get to know better. So I am always astonished when someone reveals that they have been thinking of me in my absence, as when a relative or friend calls me up to see how I'm doing. It also startles me that other people sometimes take action based on what I say or do.

Well, that's enough with describing the old hurts, the point of the horoscope was that I can heal them by having compassion and forgiveness for myself and for any who have wronged or hurt me. This is certainly an issue to deal with in therapy; it can also be addressed with affirmations, by catching up on my chores and doing good deeds, or by simply accepting that I have as much right to be on the planet as the next guy.
12:09 pm pst

Memories, or not

I'm looking forward to my memoirs class with mixed feelings. Writing one's memories is a traditional way for a writer to get started (e.g., Anne Lamott makes it her first assignment in the writing classes that she teaches), and requires little or no research. I've started writing down all that I can remember from my childhood through elementary school, and it's not a whole lot (so far, at least).

Oher people's memories seem to function a whole lot better than mine. They remember places, odors, names, feelings, what year and time of year it was, what they were thinking at the time, and what others then present were thinking or doing. My memories of childhood, on the other hand, are sketchy and sparse. They include little detail and few thoughts or feelings. And I can place them by year only if I manage to remember where I was in school at the time.

My current theory is that I jettisoned (or buried, maybe) memories of my childhood home and friends when I was uprooted to live somewhere else and with different people, as a defense reaction, so that I wouldn't miss them so much as to interfere with my adjustment to the new circumstances.

Or it could just be that I have a lousy memory.
11:48 am pst

Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Still more about procrastination

Actually doing some chore that I have been putting off feels like stepping over or through a barrier - all the resistance comes to a peak and then vanishes. I was asked to visualize that barrier last week, and came up with a picture of the paper-covered hoop that a circus animal jumps through. The wall looks solid but is really very easy to step through. Just so the barrier to off-putting achievement looms large in my mind but in retrospect proves to be very thin indeed.

As tax time approaches, a major barrier slips into place. I've kept my papers fairly well organized this year, so it's not that much of a deal to add up some numbers and enter them into a spreadsheet. Nevertheless, I'm going to be bouncing against that barrier for a little while before getting up enough steam to forge through it.
1:52 pm pst

Tuesday, February 8, 2005
Theories of procrastination

The previous posting addressed procrastination in terms of inertia, as if it were an immutable law of physics. Nice cop-out, but there are other interpretations.

There's just plain laziness, which I suspect is often the cause of my procrastination.

Another factor may be perfectionism. Sometimes I don't want to start or continue a new project because of the likelihood that it will turn out to be less than perfect, which would clash with my self-image and tend to encourage despair.

Finally, at least for now, is my "inner child" theory. Having been forced to do homework, etc., while growing up, I now exercise the adult prerogative of avoiding undesired tasks. I do this, however, because my inner child is saying, "I don't wanna do that, and you can't make me. Nyah, nyah!"
1:00 pm pst

Sunday, February 6, 2005
Inertia and momentum

As I grew up, I acquired duties. There was homework; there were chores; and eventually there was my job. Obligations that strike me as unpleasant I try to put off. Some I manage to avoid long enough that they go away; others simply grow more urgent; and sometimes there is a penalty for the delay, like late fees on a credit card bill.

Invariably, though, once I start to do whatever it is that I have been putting off, I feel a lot better about the chore and wish that I'd started on it sooner.

I've never studied physics (although I'd like to), but I've heard tell of the law of conservation of motion, which states (correct me if I'm wrong) that objects at rest tend to remain at rest and that objects in motion tend to remain in motion. That is, objects, and people, share the twin qualities of inertia and momentum.

As for inertia, just this morning I felt stuck in an anxious, tearful place of stillness, as though I were hiding from some danger. I finally felt hungry enough to make myself something to eat. The act of making and eating the food gave me enough of a lift (momentum) that I was able to take myself by the scruff of the neck and begin the actions to get my laundry done. I felt much better as soon as I took that first step. If I could always remember how much better I feel on the other side of this barrier to accomplishment, I'd be a much happier and more productive person. And if I could bottle an elixir that would accomplish that for others, I might become very rich.
3:55 pm pst

Tuesday, February 1, 2005
Thirty-day novel

Another book I've been reading lately is entitled "No Plot? No Problem! A Low-Stress, High-Velocity Guide to Writing a Novel in 30 days." The plot of the story (so to speak) is that you think about what you like and dislike in novels, decide to strive for the former and avoid the latter, and spend up to a week doing research or sketching out a plot, setting, and characters, and choosing the narrative point of view (e.g., first-person voice of the main character). Then you set a deadline for the end of the month, start writing on the first of the month, and just splash 50,000 words onto computer or paper, without editing and without any expectations or judgment. It will be bad, just accept that and go for exuberant imperfection. The theory is that things start to come together after about two weeks and the characters start telling the story themselves (I wonder what my psychiatrist would say about that).

That sounds like a sort of fun challenge. And writing novels is practically the family trade: my mother wrote two unpublished novels and my brother wrote two published novels. For symmetry it seems like I ought to write two novels and get one of them published.

I'm not committing myself to this yet (although I have a few ideas about plot and setting). I'm going to be taking those classes in non-fiction writing and may get hyped about a non-fiction project, or may need to take a break from writing altogether. But it is fun to contemplate.

I could even begin with "It was a dark and stormy night." I should be able to write at least as well as Snoopy.
8:29 pm pst

Sunday, January 30, 2005
Words and music

It's been a while since I've posted, and I should have something new to say by now. Let's start with my horoscope for today:

Your imagination is receiving a boost from your own subconscious mind. A good movie or book can act as a catalyst, encouraging your own creativity. But you may feel blocked, as if your brilliance cannot easily find a way to shine. If this is so, take the pressure off yourself and just try to enjoy the show. The time for your self-expression will follow.

-----

I've been rereading a six-book series about a man with leprosy who is transported into another universe (which, of course, is in grave peril from evil forces) and who resists using magic that he has because of his wedding ring, even after he has seen the magic in action. He focuses on the fact that he is a leper and therefore is outcast and cannot make any contribution to the world.

Perhaps I have been doing something similar with my abilities - resisting making the most of them because I'm unsure of my worth and welcome in the world.

I have been a reader all of my life. I skipped from the first to the second grade in the middle of the school year because I already knew how to read. I inhaled Nancy Drew mysteries and juvenile science fiction novels by Robert Heinlein, and other forms of 'mind candy.' More recently I read mysteries, science fiction, and children's books, but also some nonfiction - history, science, spirituality, self-help.

I love reading because it takes me into other worlds. When I was young it took me away from feeling different and unworthy because I was living with my grandparents instead of my parents - who were divorced and living at opposite ends of the state at the opposite end of the country. After Grandma died, I lived with my father, and after he died I lived with my mother. Reading took me away from the uncertainty of life and the absence of the comfort and security that I didn't even know I was missing. So as a child I disappeared into books and developed an impressive vocabulary, which I use mostly when I'm nervous.

I read and write and edit at work and I did some writing and performing when I was a member of Mothertongue Readers' Theater some years ago. I also entertain myself and friends by singing and playing music on the recorder and conducting other recorder players.

I've been thinking about the classes that I've signed up to take, starting a month from now - two on writing and one on using my 'signature strengths' for greater life satisfaction. My 'signature strengths' appear to be words and music. If I put these themes together, it seems that I should be writing songs, or perhaps a musical play (musical essays?!). As it happens, the very first entry in this blog includes the text of one song that I wrote some 25 years ago. Maybe it's time for me to write some more, with or without music.
4:52 pm pst

Friday, January 21, 2005
Mens sana in corpore sano

That's Latin for 'A healthy mind in a healthy body.' Today I'm going to write about some recent developments concerning my mental and physical health. Regular readers already know about the psychiatric care I've been under for my mental unhealthiness. More recently, I've also been reading uplifting books and engaging in various spiritual practices to improve my mental state.

I've been thinking that it might be helpful, as well as interesting, to direct my attention towards my writing. I wanted to sign up for writing classes, so I can get an objective assessment of my current writing skills and guidance about how to improve them. It would be a good thing if I could develop an avocation of writing for my retirement years, and maybe I could get something I wrote published elsewhere than here. (My job has been writing and editing legal treatises, and they have been published, but I'd like to move on to more creative non-fiction. Being creative in a legal treatise is somewhat frowned-upon.)

I checked out an M.F.A. program in writing being offered at the University of San Francisco because I saw an ad for it in a newspaper. It seemed rather intense and way too expensive for the benefit I might derive from it - $30,000 for a two-year program of classes two evenings a week and lots of homework. Then I looked into the U.C. Extension. They had an interesting online course for $500 or so, but it was temporarily unavailable. I let the matter rest there for a while.

Then yesterday I sat on the streetcar with my face a foot away from a poster that advertised S.F. State University's College of Extended Learning. I memorized the URL of their website and checked it out. They have within the college an institute that offers courses for people over 50 years old at a bargain price, funded by a grant from the Osher Foundation. For a mere $165, I signed up for three classes, two on writing non-fiction and one on discovering and using one's strengths. And these classes will be held two blocks from my office, and at very convenient times. Unless the teaching is abysmal, I've got lots of mind-stretching fun ahead.

As to my body, I've re-subscribed to The BOX, a service that delivers a box of organic produce to one's door every week or two. I tried it before but was overwhelmed by the amount of produce. This time, I ordered the smaller box for every other week and will be able to customize my order to focus on the items that I'm most likely to eat. (I also have a friend who will be happy to take any excess off my hands.) Eating lots of fruit and vegetables is supposed to be good for one's health, but I've always found it hard to eat even three servings of produce a day. I'm hoping that having it regularly show up at my door, with more coming in two weeks, will motivate me to improve my eating habits. Moreover, if I fill up on food that's good for me, I may wind up eating less junk food with more pleasure. I'd really rather not regain all the weight I lost due to my anxious depression (depressed anxiety, whatever).
5:06 pm pst

Monday, January 10, 2005
Blessings et cetera

Well, I prayed the brucha at the beginning of the service, but microphone difficulties made it inaudible. The rabbi, sitting in the front row, caught one word and the heartfelt nature of my praying (she used the term 'kavvanah,' which means something like intention or attention or meaning). And she gave me permission to incorporate it into the service that we are scheduled to co-lead next month.

I was worried about my voice, singing and speaking, being smooth for the service, but it behaved beautifully. What didn't work so well was my focus. I got scrambled and lost in the outline towards the end of the service and needed to be bailed out twice by my co-leader. But still, several congregants said that the service had been 'beautiful,' and were glad that I was back in the bimah (the raised platform where service leaders stand). Not too horrible for the first effort in a long time.

In other news, I'm reading a book called Minyan, about ten practices that help make one a better Jew. I don't do so well on doing 'acts of loving kindness,' treating others with friendly attention and doing things for them, etc. This, along with giving money to the poor and other good causes, is most of what constitutes 'being a mensch.' Although in German the word 'mensch' means man, in Yiddish it means a good person.

So, of course, I've written a brucha for increasing one's 'menschness.' Needed background information, Jewish tradition says that in each person there are both an impulse to do good and one to do evil. So my brucha is as follows: 'A fountain of blessings are You, Shekhinah, Soul of the universe, who creates in every person the impulse to do good.'
1:44 pm pst

Friday, December 31, 2004
Drash for Ritual Committee

I volunteered last week to give the d'var Torah, a mini-sermon, at the beginning of last night's Ritual Committee meeting. However, the public transit system was not cooperating, and, even though I wound up taking a cab, I arrived after the meeting had begun. I assumed that I'd have to wait until next month to deliver it, but the committee chair graciously allowed me to deliver the d'var Torah at the end of the meeting.

To create the drash (another term for sermon), I took my two postings about "The Path of Blessing," made them shorter and edited them for Jewishly knowledgeable folks, and replaced my brucha for human-created beauty with one that I'd composed earlier this week (the idea for crafting such a prayer came to me during hypnotherapy) to help me compose myself and get into the proper frame of mind to conduct a Shabbat service. My prayer is as follows: "A fountain of blessings are You, Shechinah, Soul of the universe, who gives us Shabbat and enables us to share her peace and joy." I used the word 'her' because in Jewish tradition Shabbat is a bride.

The committee really liked my drash and especially the brucha, and several of them suggested that the brucha would also be suitable for congregational use. One committee member suggested a place in the service where it could go, so I'm planning to add it to the service that I'm scheduled to co-lead (my first in several years) next week.

It seems that I'm getting back not only into attending and leading services, but also into writing parts of them.
4:04 pm pst

Saturday, December 25, 2004
More city sightings

Nothing very profound for today, but recently in San Francisco, I've seen people moving or being moved in a remarkable variety of ways. Along the Embarcadero there are walkers, joggers, roller bladers, and pedal rickshas (pedicabs?). Elsewhere I've seen people on skateboards, scooters and electric scooters, and a Segway people mover. Heck, I've even seen a unicyclist or two in the City.

I've seen plastic strollers that hold four babies each. And a single stroller being drawn by a dog, so both the dog and the infant got their walk at the same time.

The other day I saw two horse-mounted policemen, which was unusual enough, but to make it just perfect, one of the horses was wearing a Santa Claus hat complete with holes for the horse's ears.

The ways we have of getting around are almost as varied as San Franciscans ourselves, and some of them are quite interesting (e.g., the dragon motorcycle that I noted in an early post).
7:19 pm pst

Wednesday, December 22, 2004
More on blessings

Well, I've more or less finished the book, The Path of Blessing, but I keep going back to reread certain sections of it; I also went back to read the notes, which were informative even without looking at the text to which they referred.

The author, rabbi Marcia Prager, says that using English for the blessings is just fine. I'm settling into a compromise, using English for the 'thank you' berakhot and Hebrew for the mitzvah berakhot. The latter are prayers stating that God has made us holy with commandments and has commanded us to [do a particular mitzvah]. She says that this form of prayer is generally used for mitzvot of action, such as lighting candles, donning a prayer shawl, studying Torah, and hanging a mezzuzah. It seems [I haven't really gotten into this aspect yet] to be used less with such commandments as minimizing waste, repairing the world, and loving God and one's neighbors, because the more general mitzvot can apply to hundreds of different actions, I guess.

Anyway, Rabbi Prager offers alternative language for both types of berakhot for feminists who don't relate well to masculine, hierarchical God language. Also her alternatives make more sense to me than the traditional 'Blessed are You, O God,' since I don't believe that we humans have the power to bless God, rather the contrary.

So I accept various bits of her suggestions. For example, instead of 'Adonai, Melech Haolam,' which means 'My Lord, King of the Universe,' I prefer to refer to God as 'Shekhinah, Soul of the Universe.' The term Shekhinah refers to the immediate, indwelling, and somewhat feminine aspect of God.

Since I notice the beauty not only of the natural world (e.g., sunsets) but also of human endeavors and arts, I have crafted my own blessing to thank God for human accomplishments and creations of beauty - such as the Bay Bridge, city lights, handsome buildings, and moving artworks or performances. The prayer is as follows: A Fountain of Blessings are You, Shekhinah, Soul of the Universe, who created humanity in Your image, so that we, like You, are creative.

May we find in our lives many occasions to thank God for both human and divine blessings.
3:13 pm pst

Sunday, December 19, 2004
Changes in the air

I've been thinking lately about changes in technology and how they affect our lives. Having been on the planet more than half a century, I've seen things only dreamed of become reality and make their predecessors obsolete.

For example, vinyl LPs were replaced by audiocassettes and then by CDs. Telephones used to be heavy, rotary-dial machines that used numbers that had an exchange name and five digits. My exchange in Pennsylvania was CEdar (2,3) and the one in Berkeley was THornwall (8, 4). Then 'all-digit dialing' came in. Then smaller phones, then push button phones, then car phones, and now cell phones. Some of the cell phones flip open like the 'communicators' in Star Trek and can reach any other phone in the world.

And our computers. They used to take up all of a very large room. Then they got to be the size of a piano and were fed instructions in machine language via punchcards. Then keyboards became the input devices, and various computer languages were developed. Then computers learned to be user-friendly and became smaller and faster, and they acquire more memory every time we turn around. And there are computers that can handle voice input, again like the computers in Star Trek.

Along with computers came the World Wide Web, which has just about replaced telephone books and libraries as information sources, and e-mail that has nearly replaced the letter as a form of long-distance communication.

At work, I used to write with an electric typewriter on paper. Then we got computers and wrote on them. Then what we wrote into the computers went directly into composition and then print. And when I started we used reference books. Nowadays all the information is online, and we sit in the office all day and become fat.

So many labor-saving devices are doing our work for us that most of us have to go out of our way to accomplish enough exercise to stay healthy. Not to mention the effect of fast food on our eating habits (and let's not, at least not their effect on my diet).

I'm not sure where I'm going with these thoughts. Sometimes I call myself a dinosaur because I resist some of these changes until there's really no choice but to go along with them. Time flies, and it seems that we need to fly with it or get left behind.
8:27 pm pst

Friday, December 10, 2004
Winter cold and dark, and blessings

It's been a while since I've posted. So here's what I've been thinking about lately.

I live in coastal California, where there isn't any winter to speak of, but the temperature does sometimes head into the 40s, which we spoiled types think of as cold. My home has inefficient electric heating and an entire wall of glass with a northern exposure, that gets no direct sun. It can be nippy in my home during the winter months.

I usually take vacation days between Christmas and New Year's, to get a nice long break from the office, but I don't go anywhere. My custom has been to spend most of the time at home, trying to stay warm.

If I turn up the thermostat, it's like burning dollar bills, and doesn't do a good job of heating the place. I bought insulated curtains about two years ago, and they help a lot when they are closed, but don't cover all the glass. Anyway, I like the view and the light sometimes. I'm arranging to have the glass panes coated with an insulating film, which should help even more, so that maybe I can have the drapes partway open during the day and not freeze. Finally, I'm negotiating with electricians to get a ceiling fan installed at the peak of my cathedral ceiling, to push the warm air that has risen there back down to where I am, near the floor. My comfort at home and PG&E bills for the next several months will show whether these measures have been successful.

As to the dark of winter, again, we in these latitudes are spoiled compared to people nearer the poles who have to put up with much more dark (or less light, depending on how you want to look at it) during the winter months. Since it's dark by 5:30 here around the time of the solstice, going out for an evening event or coming home late from an after-work event means being out in the dark. There's something a little scary about being out after dark. Evildoers can hide in the shadows, and it's hard both to see clearly where one is walking and to be seen by people who are driving. So I have a bit of reluctance to be out after dark.

And that's not to mention the parking hassle if I'm driving. On week nights there often is no parking place on my block, and I might wind up parking in a space I rent that is two blocks away (as if that were a great distance, and I need the exercise anyway, especially if I've been driving instead of walking). And as a driver I have to look with extra care to see any nearby pedestrians.

On the other hand, there is something a little exciting about being out in the dark. The city lights are lovely to look at, and Christmas decorations are lively and interesting. And I can feel a bit brave about conquering my fear of the dark long enough to get out and do something interesting, worthwhile, or both.

In other news, I've been reading a book called The Path of Blessing, by Rabbi Marcia Prager. Part of Judaism is saying little prayers called brakhot, or blessings, that thank God for something we value (there's another kind of brakha, which goes with fulfilling a commandment, that's beyond the scope of this posting). There are set morning blessings that thank God for consciousness, for clothing, for full alertness, etc., worship blessings addressing God's power, revelation, and love, and anytime blessings for food, seeing natural wonders, doing something for the first time or eating something for the first time of the season, etc., etc. As I wrote before, I use the one about the evening twilight to thank God for a splendid sunset, or nearly any sunset that comes to my attention.

Anyway, this book goes into the whole practice of blessing in some detail and delves into the hidden meanings of each of the words that open the traditional blessing. Among other things, blessings are good for our state of mind. "The Jewish practice of blessing derives from our tradition's desire to promote joy and appreciation, wonder and thankfulness, amazement and praise." She reports a tradition saying that we should be able to find 100 things to bless God for during the course of each day. A bit of a mystic, she also states that the practice of blessings is not only beneficial to our mental health: "Jewish tradition teaches that the simple action of a brakha has a cosmic effect, for a brakha causes shefa, the 'abundant flow' of God's love and goodness, to pour into the world. Like a hand on the faucet, each brakha turns on the tap." That's pretty cool.

I find myself wanting to incorporate more and more brakhot into my life, but balk a bit at learning dozens of Hebrew blessings when my knowledge of Hebrew is rudimentary and I wouldn't really know what I'm saying. It would be easier to memorize the blessings in English, especially if I pick them up one at a time every couple of days. Another part of me believes that we don't need to recite the precise prescribed prayer to reap the benefits, that God speaks English as well as Hebrew, and that an attitude of gratitude helps both oneself and the world regardless of the words used. On the third hand, having a list of potential blessings memorized would help one to be on the lookout for their objects in the world. So I'm of many minds about this topic. Stay tuned.
6:33 pm pst


Friday, November 26, 2004
Writing without "I"

Today's exercise is to write for half an hour without using the word "I."

To the poet, there is no poem as lovely as a tree. Trees have their own character and beauty. They are also very helpful to humans - by providing us with fruit, a windbreak, and shade, and by breathing in carbon dioxide while exhaling oxygen for us to breathe.

Trees grow upwards and outward, which can be a metaphor for spiritual growth, the growth of cities and civilizations, you name it. Tree rings are used by scientists to measure time.

Sunlight seen through trees can be broken into lovely patterns, in which the places where the sunlight is hidden are as attractive as the places where it shines through. The fact that trees need sunlight (for the most part) and create shade is a similar lesson in the union of opposites.

Thinking only in opposites, however, is frequently self-defeating. It can lead to perfectionism, which links emotional comfort with adhering to impossibly strict standards. The perfectionist does not accept flawed, human performance as good enough. On the other hand, the gentleness with ourselves that occurs in the absence of perfectionism, strangely enough, often leads to personal growth. Striving for perfection can be counterproductive in nurturing growth.

Thanksgiving is over, but gratitude can and should be a daily occurrence. It promotes pleasure and peace, as well as optimism and hope. It's a useful trait to cultivate an attitude of gratitude.

Cultivation, in terms of plant care, is also contrary to perfectionism. Cultivating plants is providing them with the soil, lighting, water, and nutrients that they need and then releasing them to grow at their own rate and in their own way. (Alright, there may be some pruning, thinning, and shaping involved, but the plant has to do the growing.)

Humans trying to acquire any good habit will find a similar approach more helpful than perfectionism - i.e., providing the necessary surroundings and help, appreciating every little positive step, and accepting stumbles as natural and expected.
2:39 pm pst

Thursday, November 25, 2004
Second grade lunch

Today's exercise: "Close your eyes and think back to second grade lunch. Remember what you ate, what the other kids ate, the sounds and sights and smells of the lunchroom. Then open your eyes and write as much about it as you can remember."

I don't remember much about lunches at my elementary school and certainly not enough to distinguish lunches from any particular year. I do remember that I usually disliked the meals that the cafeteria served. The worst was a green bell pepper stuffed with reddish rice and ground beef. It tasted awful, and some of the other lunches weren't much better.

I didn't have much of an appetite under the best of circumstances, and luncheons at school were the worst. I would push my food around the plate and then try to sneak past the teachers on the way to the counter/window where we turned in our plates. Sometimes they would catch me and send me back to the table to try to eat some more of the dreck. I didn't usually eat much more the second time, but they would usually let me pass when I'd given it a shot.

I don't remember the other kids much. I skipped from first to second grade in the middle of the year, so I wouldn't have made that many new friends. One other student skipped from my class before me, but he was a boy, so our paths didn't intersect much. However, I think that I already knew one or two of the second graders from my neighborhood, but sure can't remember sitting with any of them at lunch at school. If I'd been sitting with friends, I could have offloaded some of my food onto their trays and avoided getting caught by the teachers.

I wonder now how the teachers tolerated the food. Maybe they were so concerned with the students eating it because they hated it too and wanted to share the misery.

Anyway, that's all I remember now.
4:13 pm pst

Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Ten words exercise

I've joined this online writing community that posts writing exercises every so often. Since I'm using this blog as a sort of semi-public writing apprenticeship, I'm planning to use the exercises as blog entries. The first exercise listed in the site is as follows: Choose ten words that you really like, for their sound, their meaning, or both, and use them in writing a poem, a paragraph, a scene, or whatever.

Ten words: cat, house, sesquipedalian, hallow, wonderment, cool, armor, avocado, fellowship, greetings.

I have a cat named Molly who lives in my house. I feed her a dry food called Avoderm, which contains avocado oil for the benefit of her fur, which is her armor against extremes of temperature and is one of her most charming features. Some of her postures strike me as cute and cool and some positions cause me wonderment, because I can't understand how she gets into them.

Sometimes she puts a single outstretched paw on my chest as she's standing in my lap; I wonder if that's a way that she extends greetings. And every time I have a lap, she wants into it, unless she's sound asleep. She's purring in my lap even as I type, and her fellowship is a great comfort to me.

Sometimes I sing to her a personalized version of the cat aria from Benjamin Britten's cantata Rejoice in the Lamb - "For I will consider my cat, Molly. For she is a creature of the living God, duly and daily serving Him [sic]. For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East she worships in her way. For this is done by wreathing her body seven times round, with elegant quickness. For she knows that God is her savior. For I am blessed in the variety of her movements. For I am possessed of a cat, surpassing in beauty, from whom I take occasion to bless almighty God." At such times, I feel that her presence in my life hallows it, even if just a little.

Unlike her predecessor, who - being part Siamese - was a very vocal critter, with a voice that could cut glass, Molly is a cat of few words. I, on the other hand, am a real fan of words, and oftentimes the longer the better. That makes me sesquipedalian, which is another long word that I cherish.

Well, there's all ten of the words in a few paragraphs that make a modicum of sense and that happen to be true. I might come back to this exercise every so often, when I'm apt to come up with a different list of words.

Happy Thanksgiving, all.
1:07 pm pst

Friday, November 12, 2004
Tales of a seeker

So, I promised the full story of my religious wanderings.

I was born to a Catholic mother and an atheist father of Jewish descent. While living with his Conservative Jewish parents, I attended a Reform Jewish synagogue and went to Sunday School there (I'm sure it was on Sunday rather than Saturday, because I was taking language classes on Saturdays). I enjoyed the study of ethics and of Hebrew (using this neat, science-fiction based curriculum in which a computer gave you sufficient grammar and vocabulary to understand alien creatures who, for some strange reason, spoke Hebrew). I also got to participate in leading services (probably children's services, but I'm not sure) and singing in the children's choir, including solo.

Then I went to live with my father and there was a gap in my religious education. He proclaimed that religion was the opiate of the masses and left the subject otherwise alone. Then I lived with my mother, and she provided no religious input other than dragging me to a few 12-step meetings, which were her religion.

My spiritual life was something of a wasteland when I went to UCLA, and so I succumbed to evangelization by members of Campus Crusade for Christ. I attended meetings and workshops, prayed, and generally started feeling plugged in to the universe and its guiding spirit. Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship came to my attention somehow at about that time, and I transferred most of my custom to them, because their approach to Scriptures and theology was more intellectual and less simplistic than Campus Crusade's. For example, they turned me on to C.S. Lewis, and I read everything that he wrote about theology. I also read the Bible cover to cover, at least twice.

Also during those college years, I spent a weekend at a retreat held by the Unification Church (the Moonies), which fortunately constituted the extent of my exposure to them. I was lucky to avoid being sucked in by them. I think it helped that I was so well informed a Christian by then that I could tell they were a cult.

I also attended meetings at the Jesus Christ Light and Power House, which was a charismatic evangelical group, and got interested in the more emotional side of the 'spirit filled' life.

In terms of actual church membership, I joined a Presbyterian church in Brentwood, because the music director there was one of my professors, and he had recruited me (and other members of the Madrigal Singers) to sing with his church choir in concerts. I really liked the music and the people, so I joined up and stayed there for the rest of my college years.

Then I came to San Francisco for law school and joined the neighborhood Lutheran church, because it was closest and seemed theologically comparable to Presbyterianism. Later I learned that it was really suitable for me, a former music major and current law student, because Martin Luther had studied law and composed music in between leading the Reformation.

My spiritual wanderings were not yet done, however. I spent some time attending more charismatic prayer meetings, and was intrigued by people speaking in tongues and being 'slain in the spirit' (something rather like fainting with ecstasy). I also enjoyed their music, very folk-like and accessible.

I also attended a silent Quaker meeting somewhere around then, but it didn't speak to me.

As a lesbian, I had been somewhat uncomfortable in the groups and churches I'd attended so far, because they branded homosexuality as sinful. So I had to suppress that part of myself to call myself a Christian. Then I came to hear about Lutherans Concerned for Gay and Lesbian Understanding. So there was a group of gay Christians who saw no conflict between their gayness and their spirituality. I joined them and got active in conventions, meetings, activism, and worship.

It was through Lutherans Concerned that I heard about Congregation Sha'ar Zahav, the local gay synagogue. The Jewish lover of a Concerned Lutheran was one of the founders of CSZ and he invited me there on hearing about my Jewish ancestry and upbringing. So I started attending their services and felt the most at home that I had felt in any of the many religious groups in my wanderings. So I became a member, resigned my Lutheran church membership, and got back into the study of Hebrew and Judaism and Jewish music and leading services and delivering sermons, etc.

I ought also to mention my practice of Transcendental Meditation and some exposure to Buddhist teachings. Buddhism, which has some useful things to say about living a productive and peaceful life, has some appeal to me and seems to be completely compatible with Judaism, or so said at least two books I read that were by Jewish/Buddhist writers.

So, I've been exposed to many different threads of spirituality in my life. The trick is choosing one or two and holding firmly on to them even through the dry times.
4:29 pm pst

Thursday, November 4, 2004
Linguistic legacy

I've been thinking lately about my verbal idiosyncracies, and wondering which of them, if any, will survive me. For example, I'm pretty sure that I was the first one to call the Ritual Committee at shul the Rit Com, and that abbreviation has made it into print in the committee meeting minutes and other synagogue ephemera.

Other personal locutions I've picked up from others. I think I have my grandfather to thank for "I have to see a man about a horse," which means I have to go to the bathroom. I believe a Texan boss of mine is to blame for my hedging a promise or statement with "Lord willin' and the creek don't rise." And from Stargate SG-1 I got the term "honking" for "very," e.g., "That's one honking big shiner you've got." A friend of mine has caught "honking" from me, and who knows where it could wind up.

It might make an excellent thesis topic for some linguist to pick a few such items and trace them down to their source and show how far they've spread from it - like a phraseology family tree.
7:15 pm pst

Friday, October 29, 2004
Feast for the senses

My noon walk today was a tapestry of pleasures for most of my senses. For sight, I enjoyed the sunshine and the view of the Bay Bridge and the Bay. For hearing, I was startled and pleased by the caw of a sea gull sitting on a railing near me. For touch, I enjoyed stroking the velvety purple petals of a salvia plant. And for smell, I picked up some grass clippings from an area that was mowed earlier this week and inhaled deeply and was instantly transported back to my childhood in Pennsylvania.

The world is full of pleasures for people who meet them halfway and are of a mind to appreciate them. I thank God today for these pleasures and the fact that I am ready to enjoy them.
1:25 pm pdt

Saturday, October 16, 2004
The great outdoors

Another group of pictures in the collage consists of outdoor scenes: trees overlooking a meadow, rocky ground at the edge of a lake with a forested piece of land in the background, and a couple standing on an outcropping of a steep cliff above a green valley and the bend of a river that has white ships in it and a mountain in the background.

This last picture reminds me a bit of both the opening scene of "The Sound of Music" and a Rhine cruise I took some years ago. The first and second ones remind me of places I've been in California. They all reproach me with the number of years it has been since I've been closer to Nature than a landscaped garden.

I'm no outdoorswoman, that's for sure. Even though I've been on hikes and walks in Yosemite and Bay Area parks, I've never initiated any of these trips; I just followed along when others invited me. And here's why I seldom seek nature: I tend to get injured out there.

On a hike with my father once to join my brother at Boy Scout camp, I slipped on a rock and bruised the sole of my foot. It was no fun walking back to civilization with that injury, let alone the blisters. ... Then there was the time I was walking in Tilden Park and had a poison oak bush pointed out to me, but I managed to get a smear of the oil on my chin anyway, and washing it only spread it around, until my whole body itched. Then there was the time that I put too much weight on a dead branch of a tree that I was climbing and the branch broke off and I fell about six feet into a stream. When the limb broke, my glasses fell off, and I nearly despaired of finding them without them. But my vision was much better then, and the Divine took pity on me and I found them, intact, in the stream. There are more tales along that line, but I'll take pity on both of us and spare you them.

Recently, though, I've had faint stirrings of interest in walking in Tilden Park again, poison oak notwithstanding (I've been exposed since, and seem to be a lot less vulnerable to it than I used to be). We'll see if writing about the urge strengthens it any.
12:06 pm pdt

Wednesday, October 13, 2004
The birds

There are three pictures of birds in my collage: one is of three owls standing close to each other on a tree branch. Owls are said to be wise, but this grouping of three owls with empty, staring eyes reminds me of the three monkeys with their paws over, respectively, eyes, ears, and mouth (see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil).

Depending on your interpretation of the monkey saying, these owls may be as wise as owls are supposed to be. Not that we should ignore the problems in the world and in our lives, but we can't live with them constantly in our thoughts, and gawking at an auto accident or other local tragedy is unsafe, unkind, and ghoulish. Not that we should turn a deaf ear (sorry about the ableist metaphor, but that's how the phrase goes) to another's woes, but listening to gossip and disrespect towards others is bad for one's spiritual health. There's no need to re-interpret the injunction to speak no evil; our words should be useful and kind and true. As the saying goes: "May my words today be tender and kind, for tomorrow I may have to eat them."

I am by no stretch of the imagination a birder, but one of the pictured birds looks a lot like the house sparrows that I used to see in our backyard when I had a bird feeder on the back stairs near my window. I (in retrospect) unwisely put birdseed in the well at the bottom of the feeder, and when it drew a tree rat (which grossed me out) and a host of mourning doves (which drove away the small birds), I gave up on bird feeding and watching.

The final bird is just plain pretty, with an aqua blue tail, chest, and head, fuschia-colored ascot, brown wings, and a white stripe over its eyes. Birds symbolize the freedom of flight, the ability to travel unfettered to the place of our dreams. I think that many people look at a bird, or Superman, or an airplane, and wish that they could fly. Even the Psalmist sang (Psalm 55:6): "O that I had wings like a dove; I would fly away and be at rest."
7:38 pm pdt

Sunday, October 10, 2004
Beautiful skies

Six of the pictures in my collage feature beautiful skies, mostly at sunrise or sunset, skies that are colored in pink and blue and purple and orange. I really enjoy looking at skies when they are changing from day to night or vice versa, but I'm usually asleep or otherwise occupied when this happens.

Sometimes I think that I would be a happier person if I arranged my life to see sunsets and sunrises with more regularity, if only because their beauty is uplifting.

But there's more to it than sheer beauty. As Rabbi Schachter-Shalomi wrote in The First Step, "Universal traditions, including the 'traditions' of the animals, point to dawn and dusk as the most fitting times to reach out beyond ourselves. They are in-between times, rich and suggestive times when light and darkness blend together, when two contrary qualities coexist in the same time and space -- the best times for prayer. ... At such times your whole being will respond, in agreement with the natural cycle."

I sometimes stand at my window and watch as the light fades from the sky or as the sky lightens with the dawn. At those times I feel a stirring within, as if this was a special time, an important time, a time in which I needed to do something special or in which something special was about to happen to me.

Now that I've been reminded of the spiritual meaning of the liminal times of dawn and dusk, maybe I can remember - the next time that I'm drawn to stand at my window - that this is a time for prayer and meditation: for talking with the God who brings on both the evening twilight and the new day.
12:14 pm pdt

Saturday, October 9, 2004
Cat and Mouse

Another picture in the collage is of an orange cat lying down, sphynxlike, with its forepaws in front of it. The kicker is a white mouse lying on its head, apparently relaxing there. They seem to be friends.

A cat and a mouse getting along together so well reminds me of the verse about the messianic age, Isaiah 11:6: "The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them."

From this I gather that we humans can get on well together even if we are very different from each other, perhaps only with God's help.

In a lighter vein, the cat and mouse look really cute together and also remind me of the lazy cartoon cat Garfield and his attitude towards mice - it's just too much work for him to chase them, and they would much rather not be chased and eaten, so they together pretend that he's chasing them while the mice live happily in their nests.

In human relations, it can be hard to tell who's the cat and who's the mouse, or maybe the analogy doesn't apply to people to that extent. Anyway, I really liked the picture and hope that you can imagine and enjoy it from my description.
11:35 am pdt

Friday, October 8, 2004
Pictures from a collage

Some years ago, at the suggestion of my therapist, I made a collage by selecting various pictures that had been cut out from magazines and gluing them to a largish sheet of paper. It occurred to me recently to use them as the basis of some entries for this blog.

I want to start with the first picture that I remembered in thinking of this project, a picture of a clay gargoyle sitting atop a computer monitor with its own computer in its lap. The creature has its hands on its own keyboard.

It is a fairly friendly looking gargoyle, even though it's not looking at the photographer. It has a long, camel-like snout and long, pointy ears that are pointed in the opposite direction from the snout. Its legs are crossed at the ankles, with a certain insouciance.

Its presence in the picture seems to be making some sort of statement about the omnipresence of computers these days; they are so ubiquitous that even a gargoyle finds one useful. And the casual posture, including an apparently slumped back, suggests that it's as at home in front of its own machine as the owner of the actual computer probably is before his or her machine.

Gargoyles are usually found carved in odd corners of old churches. The juxtaposition of one with so modern a device as a computer is, perhaps, intended to be whimsical.

The creature is rather cute. Behind its arms is a layer of clay that is suggestive of a curved armchair, except that it blends into the creature's legs. The slab of clay doesn't look like wings, but I'm out of other suggestions about its nature.

The sculpture is a computer user in miniature, perhaps altered beyond the human form by symbiosis with the machine. Perhaps it is an idol for the person who worships computers by spending vast amounts of time in front of them (says she in a blog).

Anyway, it's a miniature and I (being just shy of five feet tall) really like miniatures. Two miniature dragons (one just coming out of its egg) and a tiny sculpture of a woman on a unicorn grace the CPU of my computer at work. So I identify with the person who accessorized his or her computer with an even more appropriate miniature.
6:52 pm pdt

Tuesday, October 5, 2004
De-cluttering a bit

This Jewish new year (5765, I believe), I have a couple of resolutions, and one of them is to remove a little bit of clutter from my home every week or so. Some wise person (if anyone knows who it was, please tell me, so I can give proper credit) said: Have nothing in your home that you don't know to be useful or believe to be beautiful. Using that standard, I've got lots and lots of stuff to clear out.

So far this week, I've unloaded a stationary bicycle that I stopped using about a decade ago (I left it on the sidewalk on the eve of garbage-collection day, and it was gone by bedtime) and about a dozen books that I don't feel any need to keep (I gave them to the nearest library).

A friend asked me what I was going to put in the place where the bicycle was, and I said "space." She was quite impressed.

While it would be nice to get a tax deduction or money in return for these objects, the procedures for getting the deduction or cash are complicated enough to be a real deterrent. The sidewalk and library are so convenient and simple that I can get my act together to actually use them.

So, I'm going to keep using these simple ways to get rid of excess stuff. If they fail concerning some objects, there are slightly harder ways to get the job done. For example, I've taken stuff to the Community Thrift Store several times, and it wouldn't be such a big deal if I don't have to make a list and put a price on each object so I can get a receipt for the tax deduction.

As I look around my tiny flat, I spot other objects that need to go, and way too many books and papers, and plan to get rid of them in small, doable chunks when I have (hopefully frequent) bursts of de-cluttering energy.
.1:48 pm pdt


Tuesday, September 28, 2004
City Sighting

I saw an odd thing on the way home today. A sidewalk tree that I passed had an assortment of wood leaning up against it and lodged in its branches. The wood did not seem to have come from that tree (although I'm no expert), and was in all stages of woodworking - from a branch with bark, a branch without bark, and a finished board leaning against the tree to a smaller board in the branches.

Now, I'm something of a person who can't see the forest for the trees, i.e., I'm into details rather than the big picture. So the details of this picture intrigue me and suggest a couple of scenarios.

The pedestrian ones are: (1) the tree is being used as an oddly shaped storage shed for the wood; or (2) somebody has placed the pieces there as a kind of artwork. My fanciful thought is that the branches and boards found themselves freed from wherever they were being used before and moved themselves to this tree, whom they saw as a nurturing family member, for safety and shelter.
2:05 pm pdt

Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Rain and clutter

Here's a little something that I wrote about nine months ago (spiffied up a touch around the edges) and my current take on things. It starts with musings about rain and goes on to reveal how much of Hannah the Hoarder is me (everything but the vacuum cleaners, actually - I saw them on a street corner and thought I might use them in writing something):


The first heavy rain of the season always comes as a surprise -- how loud it sounds, pelting against the roof, the drainpipe, the windows, the caps atop the vents. And then the winds that actually shake this hundred-year-old house -- like a cat grabbing a kitten by the scruff of its neck and giving it a little shake, to remind it who's the mother here, and who's the kitten.

I feel the house like an ark, carrying me through the flooding rain -- except when the rains flood into the house, and I feel helpless to stop the water. I can only seek its sources and try to catch the flow before it does more damage.

My house is my nest -- but it is too small and cluttered with stuff I don't use but cannot part with. Food I don't eat, teas I don't drink, clothes I don't wear, books I don't read, records and tapes and CDs I don't listen to. I seem defined almost as much by what I don't do as by what I do.

I like the person who might do those things, who has done those things, who wants to do those things, more than the one who hides from thoughts and feelings by avoiding the books and music and instead indulging in mind candy like murder mysteries, science fiction, TV, and computer games.

I'm afraid to start digging out the clutter because it seems endless, because it seems like giving away pieces of myself, pieces of possibility. Because it seems like too much of a commitment, because the clutter will just accumulate again and I'll be disappointed with myself.


Anyway, that's how I was feeling then, in the throes of major depression. I've cleaned out or relocated most of the clothes I don't wear, and I periodically throw or give away the food I don't eat and try to drink a wider variety of my teas. When I got a new TV a month or so ago, I got rid of its predecessor in a week or two. I also keep a large plastic bag to which I occasionally add things that will go out of my home in the next curbside pickup for charity.

As to the reading and the music, I listen to CDs, but they're newly purchased ones that I use to help me fall asleep. I've been reading or rereading some of my books (including non-fiction) but my attention span is limited. My most consistent reading happens just before bedtime when I'm trying to get sleepy.

In short, I'm trying to thin things out a little, at the edges, to work on my issues, and to like myself better (please forgive the cliches).
9:27 pm pdt

Thursday, September 16, 2004
Definitely back to shul

So, I've been to my synagogue, Congregation Sha'ar Zahav, for four or six services (depending on how you count) over the last two weeks - a Shabbat service, S'lichot, Erev Rosh Hashannah, and Rosh Hashannah morning services (three of them, really, but with no gaps). I have not only stuck my toe back in the water, I have committed to rejoining the swim.

I was raised in Reform Judaism, with permission of my Catholic mother, because I was then living with my Jewish grandparents (the parents of my atheist father). The rest of my religious wanderings are a long story that I'll save for another time, but several themes of my life came together when I found Sha'ar Zahav in about 1980.

I was heavily involved with the synagogue for about 16 years. I served on the Ritual Committee for most of that time, co-leading many Shabbat services and every High Holy Day service there is, delivering many sermons, including one on Erev Rosh Hashannah, and chanting Torah and Haftara. I served a term on the Va'ad (board of directors), and the powers that be even offered me the presidency at one point. Suffice it to say, however, that I eventually became burnt out and took a roughly six-year sabbatical (as it were) from attending services, although I retained my dues-paying membership and came back for the occasional concert or special service involving a friend.

But, I've promised a good friend at the synagogue (and a bit of a mother figure) that I would get back into the swing of things, and have contacted the chair of the Ritual Committee to see if I'm welcome back. It seems so. Moreover, a friend who was running the service asked me to read two paragraphs at the Erev Rosh Hashannah service, perhaps as a kind of incentive to reinvolve myself in the life of the synagogue. Stay tuned for further developments along these lines.

At the S'lichot service, we were given a printout of a commentary on the weekly Torah portion that our rabbi had been asked to contribute to the website of the Union for Reform Judaism. Her commentary included a poem by Portia Nelson that I found very intriguing:

There's a Hole in My Sidewalk
An Autobiography in Five Short Chapters

Chapter One
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost . . . I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter Two
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place.
But, it isn't my fault.
It still takes me a long time to get out.

Chapter Three
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it there.
I still fall in . . . it's a habit . . . but, my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter Four
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter Five
I walk down another street.


I love this poem because it can refer to any of the besetting problems that recur in our lives that aren't our fault until we become conscious of what we're doing to cause them. And even then it may take another few tries for us to see, even in retrospect, what we've done, and then a few more times to see the situation coming and avoid it, even if only by a last-second swerve away from the precipice.

This year, I'm working on awareness of one of my besetting sins and hope to be taking a different street by the end of the year. You might want to consider if there's a hole in your sidewalk and what it might be.

May you all have a peaceful and healthy 5765.
4:05 pm pdt

Sunday, September 12, 2004
The Moving Finger

A piece of poetry that I remember hearing my father recite was from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. He favored the Fitzgerald translation:

The Moving Finger writes and, having writ,
Moves on. Nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
nor all your Tears wash out a word of it.

It's a rather gloomy sentiment cloaked in beautiful and memorable words. Since my father was an unhappy man, I think he agreed with the fatalistic mood of this poem. Not only is the past unchangeable, it says, but the past was not in our control in the first place - the Moving Finger wrote our past, not we. That could be a good thing; if our past was controlled by someone else, we can disavow any responsibility for our own past behavior.

The poet's apparent desire to erase at least some of his past suggests that it was not a pleasant one. It appears that he imagined the Moving Finger as uncaring fate or as an implacable and angry divinity. Either way, a person may nevertheless find some grim satisfaction in contemplating the power of such a being.

Since we humans live in a linear fashion in time, it is true that we cannot change the past. We do, however, have some control over our present and our future - both of which will eventually become our past. Moreover, we have the ability to reassess the past and to recover from some of the hurts it has dealt us. In fact, we may find that we have gained some benefit from the darned 'growth opportunities' (painful experiences) in our past.
7:51 pm pdt

Hannah the hoarder

I thought I'd try my hand at some fiction, which (in this instance at least) includes a certain amount of autobiography:

Hannah was a hoarder. She knew this, but mostly felt hopeless about changing it. She wasn't so much of a hoarder when she was a child, but she started collecting things as she grew to adulthood. In her youth, she had lived with one relative after another, so her possessions were some of the most stable things in her life.

She loved reading. Books were her friends. She longed to live inside books, especially children's books - where families were intact and children grew up happy and secure. She had many bookcases with books double-shelved on them, and several piles of books that couldn't fit into the bookcases. It was as if books followed her home.

What was really weird, though, were the vacuum cleaners. Even though she had some mechanical skills, she never tried to repair a dead vacuum cleaner, and couldn't bring herself to take one to a repair shop, even if she could find one. So, they also tended to accumulate, until she had four dead vacuum cleaners and even less room to put stuff than usual.

She was, of course, in therapy, as are so many people nowadays. And her therapist believed that a cluttered home was both a symptom and a cause of her mental and emotional troubles. So, the therapist urged Hannah to release as many possessions as possible. Since dead vacuum cleaners were the least useful of her many possessions, they were prime candidates for departure. So, one fine day, in a bout of courage and daring, she put them out on the sidewalk, not in front of her house, so that someone would pick them up and give them a good home.

She felt so much lighter, with them out of her small home, that she started planning the departure of other excess possessions - not in any great hurry, but on those few occasions when her dismay with the clutter and her courage again reached a peak at about the same time.
3:08 pm pdt

Wednesday, September 8, 2004
The evening twilight

One of my favorite prayers in the Shabbat evening service is the Ma'ariv Aravim, which praises God for creating day and night, and the seasons and the night-time sky. It concludes, "Baruch Atah Adonai, hama'ariv aravim." That is, "Blessed are You, O God, who brings on the evening twilight."

I am a real fan of splendid sunsets, especially the type with a lot of rosy pink in it. And so, the one prayer from the service that most often finds its way into my daily life is the conclusion of the Ma'ariv prayer quoted above, which I pray to thank God for a particularly gorgeous sunset.
8:50 pm pdt

Friday, September 3, 2004
Tom Swifties

Sarah and I were talking about Tom Swifties while walking the other day. This form of humor was practiced in Pennsylvania, California, or both places in my youth; I'd be curious to hear if other people did them elsewhere. My guess is that they're called Tom Swifties because of the writing style in the old Tom Swift books for boys. It's rather hard to define a Tom Swifty. The best I can do is 'somehow connecting a statement and the way it is being said in a punny way.' Let me give you a representative assortment of them:

"Your bacon is getting overdone," said Tom crisply.
"I dropped my toothpaste," said Tom crestfallen.
"I love to sing in a choir," said Tom gleefully.
"I think you’re using the wrong type face," said Tom boldly.
"I’m out of here," said Tom swiftly.
"I think you need to go to an acupuncture clinic," said Tom pointedly.
"I get depressed in the winters," said Tom SADly.
"I love to go sailing," said Tom buoyantly.
"I like to encourage the team by yelling at football games," said Tom cheerfully.
3:05 pm pdt

Meandering mantra

I've also studied Transcendental Meditation a bit. I was initiated about twenty years ago, free of charge, by a fellow member of the Pacific Lesbian and Gay Singers who had been the director of the San Francisco TM center. He was about to lead a weekend retreat for meditators that I planned to attend. My mantra, chosen by him based on arcane principles from a brief interview with me, was a two syllable word of unknown meaning to me (if any).

I attended the workshop and meditated all weekend. Then I tried to establish a regular meditation practice at home, which worked fairly well, but I tended to be interrupted by my cat when I was trying to meditate during the day in a chair.

I did have a wonderful long meditation recently while waiting in a doctor's office, and now I remember having another one in another doctor's office maybe ten years ago. Don't know why such places are so conducive to meditation, but I'm grateful for the periods of deep relaxation.

Nowadays, I've been trying to meditate sitting up in bed in the dark, and it hasn't been going so well. Not that I fall asleep, but I just don't get the same degree of relaxation. Perhaps it's because I'm not well enough supported in bed to relax completely. It's an otherwise excellent setting, with very few distractions.

Very recently, I've started experimenting with a different mantra, shalom. It shares some phonemes with my personal mantra, but has so much meaning - peace, wholeness, reintegration. And the 'lom' syllable sounds like 'loam,' which is a rich form of soil that is excellent for growing certain types of plants and flowers. So the word is rich in connotations that would be more helpful in my mind than the random thoughts that often accompany my usual mantra.

I have a plan for trying to get more back support while sitting in bed. We'll see how that works soon. Stay tuned.
9:51 am pdt

Thursday, September 2, 2004
Is it back to shul time?

I'm a member of a synagogue and pay my dues faithfully, but haven't attended services regularly, even on the High Holy Days, for some years. I've gone when personally invited, or for a special occasion involving a friend, but for various not very good reasons have chosen to be a checkbook member only.

This might be subject to change for a couple of reasons. First, I've been thinking and writing about spiritual things a lot recently, and regular worship services are just the ticket for strengthening one's spiritual (and social) connections. Then there's the fact that I've recently run into or seen three (past or present) synagoguians in about that many days. And third, I've just started reading this wonderful blog called Velveteen Rabbi. The author is a poet rather than a rabbi, and writes very lyrical, well-informed, thought-provoking, and wise postings about various aspects of progressive Judaism. Not only that, but her site allows readers to post comments, which she reads and responds to. Check it out; it's great.

Anyway, considering the three friends, and the total of three different reasons pressing me back towards the synagogue, I'm thinking that I'm getting a message from on high. To paraphrase a saying I read in a spy novel, "Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, and three times is the universe shouting in your ear."

And the universe is communicating with me in more mundane ways, too. I started looking for a missing check register when I got home today, and feared I would have to sift through tottering stacks of papers to find it. I wrote in my private journal that I hadn't been able to find it, and within one minute it occurred to me to look in the place where I keep my checkbooks. Bingo! That reminded me of the song "Seek and ye shall find; knock and the door will be opened, ask and it shall be given ..." Thank Heavens for small and big favors.

And the place for thanking the Divine is ... synagogue. Praying set prayers with a group of similarly minded people makes for a practice that may be more regular and disciplined than what one might otherwise do haphazardly and alone. It also provides a greater sense of connection with each other and with the Divine. But, in my humble opinion, the Divine hears prayer and praise uttered at any time, in any place, and in any language, e.g., Hebrew or English (or Latin, for that matter).

In fact, I've been thinking about this interfaith table grace I've developed, but haven't actually used yet: "Baruch atah Adonai eloheinu, melech ha'olam, esurientes implevit bonis." In English, that's "Blessed are you, Divine One, ruler of the universe, who fills the hungry with good things." The Latin bit comes from the Magnificat, which I've sung in a wonderful setting by J.S. Bach. It's a song of praise from the New Testament that seems to have been modeled on the song of praise sung by Hannah when she became pregnant with the baby who would become the prophet Samuel (compare 1 Samuel, ch. 2, with Luke, ch. 1).
5:47 pm pdt

Thursday, August 19, 2004

Making friends with death?

I haven’t posted recently because I’ve been absorbed with my mental health, or rather my lack thereof. I’ve been suffering from major depression for the last year or two, which manifests mostly as lack of appetite, exhaustion, anxiety, and panic attacks. The panics make me believe that death is imminent, and that thought is very scary.

Many writings attest that I’m not alone in fearing death. "A coward dies a thousand deaths; the brave man dies but one." Call me a coward; I’ve certainly feared death, with or without panic, hundreds of times. And I identify with Johnson, as related in this Max Beerbohm essay on laughter: "Johnson’s endless sociability came of his inherent melancholy: he could not bear to be alone; and his very mirth was but a mode of escape from the dark thoughts within him. Of these the thought of death was the most dreadful to him, and the most insistent. He was forever wondering how death would come to him, and how he would acquit himself in the extreme moment." I’m a bit of a clown trying to make others laugh while wishing for the relief of laughing myself. Also, although I manage to bear living alone, I often do better emotionally when I’m with another person.

I’ve been trying to acquire a more benign view of death. In the throes of one of my panics I remembered having read or heard something about God’s everlasting arms. I tracked down the source as Deuteronomy 33:27: "The Eternal God is your dwelling place and underneath are the everlasting arms." I really like that image. And there was a portion that I also liked in "A Short History of Nearly Everything" about how the atoms that comprise our bodies are virtually indestructible and effectively immortal. They have been in the hearts of stars, in meteors, in rocks, trees, animals, rain, and seas, and in the body of any historical figure we might care to name. And after they leave us, they will go on being part of the universe in the same myriad of ways. That’s a form of immortality, and a comforting thought. Also, while I sat watching my cat sleeping in my lap, I decided to try to view dying as falling asleep in God’s lap. I’m working on these images with my hypnotherapist, and could be onto something helpful. Stay tuned.
10:04 pm pdt

Tuesday, August 10, 2004
And then there's knitting

My first craft, knitting, I learned from my mother, my grandmother, and my great aunt (I was a slow student). I've knitted a necktie for one of my elementary school teachers, afghans, shawls, and sweaters for me and others, a sweater and coat for my little nodding head dog, and many scarves for friends (including one that I just finished about two weeks ago).

I've ground to a halt halfway through a cable vest for me, probably because I can't imagine wearing it, at least in the summer, without triggering a hot flash. But I am proceeding with a triangular shawl that I plan to use myself, as a bedjacket. I'm using a bulky homespun type yarn, on size 13 needles (or oars, as I call them, because they are about half an inch in diameter). I started on size 11s, but the fabric was too dense to drape well. Now it's very soft and a bit lacy at the edges, and should be really comforting and warm. The yarn is several shades of my favorite color, purple, with hints of green. Yum.
4:16 pm pdt

Thursday, July 29, 2004
Creativity in stone

So, having mentioned that I sometimes sculpt in stone, I got a yen to do so again. I still had two blocks of soapstone in the back of my closet. I took the smaller one and cut off a chunk with a hacksaw, then rounded all the edges and did some contouring with a file, then smoothed the stone with my trusty paring knife, then sanded the rock, then rubbed it with my hands until it became nice and shiny.

This particular block of stone is a light gray in hue, with darker areas in two or more shades of blue and some nearly black inclusions that look like clusters of dots. I call it blue lace soapstone.

The first piece that I cut is a fairly large squarish stone with one side that looks like trees at the base of a mountain, and another side looks like layers of sea or sky.

I've carved two other stones that were smaller and more triangular in shape than the first one. The smaller stones fit more readily in a person's hand. I've given one of them away and have plans for the other.

The neat thing about the carvings is that they look like any stone you might pick up near some body of water, tumbled smooth by its action. However, I did the shaping, not Mother Nature.

3:07 pm pdt

Monday, July 12, 2004
Fun with the wind

I played a game with the wind today:
At first it tried to block my way,
But then it seemed to change its mind,
And came to push me from behind.
5:37 pm pdt