Somehow, it's all about the "w's". You know? Not just the title of this blog... I'm in the mood for weepin' and wailin'. I mean, what is it with me? why am I so weak? what do I need? when will I wake up? why won't I let myself? Naturally this makes no sense, but I know what I'm talking about. It's been one of those days - one of those weekends, actually. wasted time, wishy-washiness... lack of willpower. wrestling with wrath, whipped and woebegone... whatever... Okay, let's wise up and look at the good side.
1) I did have a social moment of wine and wit
2) I did get one good walk in
3) I did go around the house and wipe out those hideous cobwebs
4) I did whisk through the other little projects I assigned myself at home
5) I did work half-day Saturday (which meant I didn't have as much time at home to do other things)
6) I did finish my translation quota for the weekend
So, hey! It might not have been the most wonderful weekend, but I could have done worse!
In a Word: Wow!!
Monday, May 30, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
My sister's art
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| Bird of Paradise by Mar I would like to say something about my sister Mar. She's an artist. One might not think of her as such upon meeting her. She's a businesswoman - quite a successful one actually - and she comes across as being totally organized, self-directed, efficient, in control and well-spoken. She's super intelligent of course, and she's naturally a high-achieving workaholic. In spite of all this, Mar is also an artist. She loves her art, which is quilting, and yet she doesn't get grand-scale recognition for it, which always amazes me because as you can see here, her pieces show dedication, an eye for detail, appreciation and understanding of color and cadence, creativity and love of beauty, and the joy in putting it all together. When I look at Mar's art - I have a quilt of hers on my bed too - I feel that I'm part of that pattern; dedication envigors me, my eyes zoom in on the detail, I am immersed in color and attuned to cadence, imagination consumes me, I'm open to beauty, and suddenly I come together in the joy of being who I am. |
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| Inside Infinity |
Thursday, May 5, 2011
GOOD GRIEF! It really is!
About 3 weeks ago, I was in a difficult situation, and I said to myself: "good grief!" You know that expression that Lucy made famous in Peanuts? Or at least, that's where I first saw it. Anyway, the moment the thought came out, I countered it with - How did those two words ever get put together?? I mean, is grief ever good? Is there a such thing as 'good' grief? I thought about it a lot (I've already told you how obsessive I can be) but didn't come to any satisfying conclusions, except that perhaps, the effects of having gone through grief are ultimately good... but since I hadn't ever truly experienced it, I wasn't sure. And that was the thing! I hadn't experienced grief! Surely after your husband dies, you go through grief, you say. But no, I never did... until today. And the most incredible thing about it is that GRIEF IS GOOD! Good doesn't even begin to describe what grief is. Grief is the most eye-opening (literally, my eyes were wide-open, I went to look into them in the mirror and they were not only wide-open, they were CLEAN - TRANSPARENTLY GLOWINGLY CLEAN!) experience. I have to write about it, just to understand it myself, so bear with me.
This morning, I was putting on my socks. Simple thing. I had been slapping around in flip-flops from the time I woke up, but now I wanted to go outside and I thought, no, better put on tennies, which of course means socks too.
A word about socks. I love them! I love white cotton crew socks. I love the way I can just pull them up in one fluid movement and they cozily encase my feet and make me feel protected. Anyway, I was sitting on the edge of my bed putting on my sock, and I drew up my heel to the edge of the bed in order to put the sock over my toes and do that exquisite one-movement pull-up. But my foot slipped off so I quickly reached to pull up my leg to tuck it in closer to my body so it wouldn't slip off. Now this is something I never do. I never manually pull up my leg but today I did. And the moment my fingers closed around the lower section of my leg, I had a sudden vision of Car, and even though they were my fingers I felt in them the strength of his. And that's when it happened. Grief came over me. I started to gasp and sob, and all those things you can imagine one does in a moment of grief, and ten thousand thoughts - not even thoughts, just beginnings of thoughts overlapping in waves and karooming inside my brain - swept through me. At first it was genuinely uncontrollable, but even as I realized what was happening, I started controlling it, and it went away, and I found myself closing my eyes and willing that grief to come back - because somehow, it was the most beautiful sensation, it was REAL - as real as he was when he was here! That thought brought back the grief. He was so real! I thought about all the times I'd felt him grasp me - because he had such a grasp!! It was second nature to him to grab my arm for instance when he wanted me to see/listen to/feel/experience something. I once told him he didn't have to be so insistent. But this morning, feeling that strength in that grasp made me realize how much REAL intention he conveyed each time. And how often do we convey an intention so immediately, so completely?
As for me, I usually prefer keeping my body to myself and connecting with others through ideas (as if we were partners in a dream world). But I always knew one of the things about him that made him so ideal for me was precisely because he could always physically pull me back before I got lost in abstraction!
So there I was, deep in my cleansing, insightful grief, and I turned around and looked out the door with my wide-open, clear-seeing eyes, and what did I see? A cool, peaceful sunny morning - the kind of weather I love - picture-perfect. The grieving was over. I was back in reality, empty, light, ready to be filled with whatever the day had in store. I went out of the house to take a walk.
Good grief! How Life does take one by surprise and turn the simplest of moments into a magnificent experience of self-discovery.
This morning, I was putting on my socks. Simple thing. I had been slapping around in flip-flops from the time I woke up, but now I wanted to go outside and I thought, no, better put on tennies, which of course means socks too.
A word about socks. I love them! I love white cotton crew socks. I love the way I can just pull them up in one fluid movement and they cozily encase my feet and make me feel protected. Anyway, I was sitting on the edge of my bed putting on my sock, and I drew up my heel to the edge of the bed in order to put the sock over my toes and do that exquisite one-movement pull-up. But my foot slipped off so I quickly reached to pull up my leg to tuck it in closer to my body so it wouldn't slip off. Now this is something I never do. I never manually pull up my leg but today I did. And the moment my fingers closed around the lower section of my leg, I had a sudden vision of Car, and even though they were my fingers I felt in them the strength of his. And that's when it happened. Grief came over me. I started to gasp and sob, and all those things you can imagine one does in a moment of grief, and ten thousand thoughts - not even thoughts, just beginnings of thoughts overlapping in waves and karooming inside my brain - swept through me. At first it was genuinely uncontrollable, but even as I realized what was happening, I started controlling it, and it went away, and I found myself closing my eyes and willing that grief to come back - because somehow, it was the most beautiful sensation, it was REAL - as real as he was when he was here! That thought brought back the grief. He was so real! I thought about all the times I'd felt him grasp me - because he had such a grasp!! It was second nature to him to grab my arm for instance when he wanted me to see/listen to/feel/experience something. I once told him he didn't have to be so insistent. But this morning, feeling that strength in that grasp made me realize how much REAL intention he conveyed each time. And how often do we convey an intention so immediately, so completely?
As for me, I usually prefer keeping my body to myself and connecting with others through ideas (as if we were partners in a dream world). But I always knew one of the things about him that made him so ideal for me was precisely because he could always physically pull me back before I got lost in abstraction!
So there I was, deep in my cleansing, insightful grief, and I turned around and looked out the door with my wide-open, clear-seeing eyes, and what did I see? A cool, peaceful sunny morning - the kind of weather I love - picture-perfect. The grieving was over. I was back in reality, empty, light, ready to be filled with whatever the day had in store. I went out of the house to take a walk.
Good grief! How Life does take one by surprise and turn the simplest of moments into a magnificent experience of self-discovery.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Kind of a miracle
Here I am in a city of mystery, relaxed living and extreme heat. I've been enjoying myself for the most part, doing nothing in particular, but sharing great moments with old friends, my kids, or just on my own. I've also experienced a harrowing scare and something that was kind of a miracle. The scare was horrible in the moment, because it was late at night and I was downtown, walking, and I couldn't find the place where I was supposed to meet my son, who would take me home (and his cellphone wasn't working, so I couldn't call him), but after walking in circles, I did find the place so it all ended happily as you can see. Anyway, it's the miracle that I want to talk about.
I used to live in this city, but that was 18 years ago and technically, we only lived inside the city for a year, before moving to a small town on the other side of the ruins. Still, I did know parts of the city pretty well, at that time. Today, it's another thing altogether. Talk about growth! I'm staying with Lu, who lives in a new area near the perifico, and I am illiterate in terms of the periferico, and all the new streets connecting to it; in fact, even the ones I do remember, I remember only cursorily. It's been a challenge to maneuver my way around, but an enjoyable challenge, and on the whole, I've been successful in getting from point A to point B. People give me the bare indications, and I make my way from there.
Yesterday, after seeing my old friends and spending the afternoon with them, after doing some errands I had come here to do, I decided on the spur of the moment to try to find the house of my sister-in-law. You would think that one would surely know exactly where one's sister-in-law lived. In fact, she lives quite near the place where we lived when we lived here all those years ago. And yet, here's the thing. Even back then, we always had a hard time finding her house. She lives in a little colonia nestled between other more visible colonias. Her street is only two very short blocks long, and dead ends two houses beyond hers. The worst part is that all the major streets are the same numbers over and over, so you might be on 38th street and then turn and be on another street that's also called 38th. It just means that you're now in another colonia. Suffice it to say that on the few occasions that we came to visit Edith after we had moved away, there were always some tense moments during the drive there. I used to go bananas at Car's tactics. He would say, "oh, there's that big two-story house. That's the turn," and without knowing any names of streets, he would get us there, seemingly with no effort at all, which really galled me at times. I would be trying to catch the names of the streets, which he didn't know, while he was simply following landmarks. He claimed that it was just a question of knowing how to follow your intuition, something he happened to possess in spades.
I, however, have never claimed to be intuitive. Especially when it comes to geography. It was one of my worst subjects at school, and my sense of direction is usually hopeless (as in the above example of my downtown misadventure). Knowing my shortcomings, I told myself as I drove, that if worse came to worst, I could always call Edith when I got closer - because I thought I could at least find my way to get close to the vicinity of where she lives - and she could direct me from there. So I started out. Someone gave me the first indication of the general route and I started down the big avenue that would take me to that turn-off. But as I drove, I saw a road that I vaguely remembered as having taken once to get to her house - though I wasn't entirely sure - and without thinking twice, yet somehow convinced it was the right thing to do, I turned on it, realizing even as I did so, that I was forsaking the tentative known for the completely unknown, which might lead me absolutely nowhere. This road wound around for awhile and I stayed on it until I was pretty far down, and then I intuitively turned on a street that seemed to enter into the vicinity of her house. Don't get me wrong. It wasn't that I recognized the street; it was simply that the houses looked like the style of hers and I felt I had made the right choice. But as I continued, I never came to a corner where I could see the final part, the part I knew would take me there. After awhile, I turned and backtracked, taking another street. Once again, it seemed to be leading me close, but not close enough. I found a shady spot, parked and got out my phone. Alas! Her number was not in my phone directory. No problem, I had brought a little card with me with all the numbers of people I don't usually call but are nevertheless important to me. Nope, her number was not on that card either. I sighed and thought for awhile. Give up and go back to Lu's house? There I could retrieve my other booklet of phone numbers - the complete list. Well, that was one alternative, but I didn't want to admit defeat when I knew I was close. I decided to give it one more try. This time, as I drove, I realized that it could be that I was a little farther off than I had thought, which got me wondering about the actual colonia I was in. Now what was the name of her colonia? As I tried to remember, I came to a corner, looked up and there in front of my eyes was a storefront called Pollos Carranza. Oh! Carranza! That was part of the name of her colonia. I was close! I continued down that street another few blocks. I thought I was now on the lead-in street that would take me to hers. I thought that her street would be one of the corners I came to, but instead, I found myself turning down a street that I knew was not hers, but which somehow looked more like the lead-in than the one I was on. This was the moment of reckoning. Up until then, I knew that if things didn't work out, I could find my way back to the known route that would get me home. I hadn't really felt LOST, which is something that fills me with panic. The moment I turned down this last street, however, I felt my sense of direction - what little I have - completely desert me. If I didn't find her house, I now had no idea how to get back to the main routes. Don't panic, I said sternly to myself. Maybe this isn't the right way, but maybe... I continued slowly, feeling that I was very close. Then I saw an orange-and-yellow house on the corner that I seemed to remember from long-ago trips to her house. Could that really be her street? Houses don't stay the same color forever, do they? I looked up through the leafy branches of a tree on the corner to read the street name. 37-Something. That's my favorite number! But was it the name of her street? I couldn't remember. I peered down the street and there were only about 6 houses - that seemed right. But the next block would have to be a dead-end if it was the right one. I came to the corner and saw that YES, the next block was a dead-end. I looked at the houses. Again, only about 6 on either side. That was right and, more importantly, they looked comfortingly familiar. I crawled along the street. OH YES! That one, the 4th one - the front garden looked different but it must be the one! There was a guy doing some construction work on her house, if it was her house. I stopped. I called out her name. No answer. I asked the construction guy if anyone was home. He told me the lady of the house was inside. He went to a back window and called out, 'Sra. Edith, alguien está en la puerta'. Oh yes, it had to be her! She came to the door and when she saw me, the look on her face at seeing me answered my own surprised delight at having found her. We fell into each other's arms, exchanging exclamations and dissolving into laughter. As the workman gazed at us with a smile - how could he help but smile! - Edith and I entered the house.
Okay, so maybe it doesn't classify as a miracle, and yet...
Let's consider the facts. It's a known fact that I've got no sense of direction and that I'm useless in working out geographical locations. It's true that I've never known myself to be especially intuitive when trying to navigate. But I got to Edith's house. And I got there by way of feelings, intuitive turns of the wheel, noticing landmarks, and without going into a panic. How is that so? I asked myself that question over and over, marveling at the whole thing to Edith, to myself... until this morning. Today is the anniversary of Car's departure. He's gone but I've always felt that he's with me when I need him. It's been awhile since I really felt I needed him with me, but yesterday, he must have felt my need and come along for the ride to Edith's house, lending me his intuition to get us there. When you look at it that way, you begin to see that maybe it really was kind of a miracle!
I used to live in this city, but that was 18 years ago and technically, we only lived inside the city for a year, before moving to a small town on the other side of the ruins. Still, I did know parts of the city pretty well, at that time. Today, it's another thing altogether. Talk about growth! I'm staying with Lu, who lives in a new area near the perifico, and I am illiterate in terms of the periferico, and all the new streets connecting to it; in fact, even the ones I do remember, I remember only cursorily. It's been a challenge to maneuver my way around, but an enjoyable challenge, and on the whole, I've been successful in getting from point A to point B. People give me the bare indications, and I make my way from there.
Yesterday, after seeing my old friends and spending the afternoon with them, after doing some errands I had come here to do, I decided on the spur of the moment to try to find the house of my sister-in-law. You would think that one would surely know exactly where one's sister-in-law lived. In fact, she lives quite near the place where we lived when we lived here all those years ago. And yet, here's the thing. Even back then, we always had a hard time finding her house. She lives in a little colonia nestled between other more visible colonias. Her street is only two very short blocks long, and dead ends two houses beyond hers. The worst part is that all the major streets are the same numbers over and over, so you might be on 38th street and then turn and be on another street that's also called 38th. It just means that you're now in another colonia. Suffice it to say that on the few occasions that we came to visit Edith after we had moved away, there were always some tense moments during the drive there. I used to go bananas at Car's tactics. He would say, "oh, there's that big two-story house. That's the turn," and without knowing any names of streets, he would get us there, seemingly with no effort at all, which really galled me at times. I would be trying to catch the names of the streets, which he didn't know, while he was simply following landmarks. He claimed that it was just a question of knowing how to follow your intuition, something he happened to possess in spades.
I, however, have never claimed to be intuitive. Especially when it comes to geography. It was one of my worst subjects at school, and my sense of direction is usually hopeless (as in the above example of my downtown misadventure). Knowing my shortcomings, I told myself as I drove, that if worse came to worst, I could always call Edith when I got closer - because I thought I could at least find my way to get close to the vicinity of where she lives - and she could direct me from there. So I started out. Someone gave me the first indication of the general route and I started down the big avenue that would take me to that turn-off. But as I drove, I saw a road that I vaguely remembered as having taken once to get to her house - though I wasn't entirely sure - and without thinking twice, yet somehow convinced it was the right thing to do, I turned on it, realizing even as I did so, that I was forsaking the tentative known for the completely unknown, which might lead me absolutely nowhere. This road wound around for awhile and I stayed on it until I was pretty far down, and then I intuitively turned on a street that seemed to enter into the vicinity of her house. Don't get me wrong. It wasn't that I recognized the street; it was simply that the houses looked like the style of hers and I felt I had made the right choice. But as I continued, I never came to a corner where I could see the final part, the part I knew would take me there. After awhile, I turned and backtracked, taking another street. Once again, it seemed to be leading me close, but not close enough. I found a shady spot, parked and got out my phone. Alas! Her number was not in my phone directory. No problem, I had brought a little card with me with all the numbers of people I don't usually call but are nevertheless important to me. Nope, her number was not on that card either. I sighed and thought for awhile. Give up and go back to Lu's house? There I could retrieve my other booklet of phone numbers - the complete list. Well, that was one alternative, but I didn't want to admit defeat when I knew I was close. I decided to give it one more try. This time, as I drove, I realized that it could be that I was a little farther off than I had thought, which got me wondering about the actual colonia I was in. Now what was the name of her colonia? As I tried to remember, I came to a corner, looked up and there in front of my eyes was a storefront called Pollos Carranza. Oh! Carranza! That was part of the name of her colonia. I was close! I continued down that street another few blocks. I thought I was now on the lead-in street that would take me to hers. I thought that her street would be one of the corners I came to, but instead, I found myself turning down a street that I knew was not hers, but which somehow looked more like the lead-in than the one I was on. This was the moment of reckoning. Up until then, I knew that if things didn't work out, I could find my way back to the known route that would get me home. I hadn't really felt LOST, which is something that fills me with panic. The moment I turned down this last street, however, I felt my sense of direction - what little I have - completely desert me. If I didn't find her house, I now had no idea how to get back to the main routes. Don't panic, I said sternly to myself. Maybe this isn't the right way, but maybe... I continued slowly, feeling that I was very close. Then I saw an orange-and-yellow house on the corner that I seemed to remember from long-ago trips to her house. Could that really be her street? Houses don't stay the same color forever, do they? I looked up through the leafy branches of a tree on the corner to read the street name. 37-Something. That's my favorite number! But was it the name of her street? I couldn't remember. I peered down the street and there were only about 6 houses - that seemed right. But the next block would have to be a dead-end if it was the right one. I came to the corner and saw that YES, the next block was a dead-end. I looked at the houses. Again, only about 6 on either side. That was right and, more importantly, they looked comfortingly familiar. I crawled along the street. OH YES! That one, the 4th one - the front garden looked different but it must be the one! There was a guy doing some construction work on her house, if it was her house. I stopped. I called out her name. No answer. I asked the construction guy if anyone was home. He told me the lady of the house was inside. He went to a back window and called out, 'Sra. Edith, alguien está en la puerta'. Oh yes, it had to be her! She came to the door and when she saw me, the look on her face at seeing me answered my own surprised delight at having found her. We fell into each other's arms, exchanging exclamations and dissolving into laughter. As the workman gazed at us with a smile - how could he help but smile! - Edith and I entered the house.
Okay, so maybe it doesn't classify as a miracle, and yet...
Let's consider the facts. It's a known fact that I've got no sense of direction and that I'm useless in working out geographical locations. It's true that I've never known myself to be especially intuitive when trying to navigate. But I got to Edith's house. And I got there by way of feelings, intuitive turns of the wheel, noticing landmarks, and without going into a panic. How is that so? I asked myself that question over and over, marveling at the whole thing to Edith, to myself... until this morning. Today is the anniversary of Car's departure. He's gone but I've always felt that he's with me when I need him. It's been awhile since I really felt I needed him with me, but yesterday, he must have felt my need and come along for the ride to Edith's house, lending me his intuition to get us there. When you look at it that way, you begin to see that maybe it really was kind of a miracle!
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Nitpicking and exoneration
I've grown more and more fastidious in my 'old' age. Fastidious (though not in the sense of keeping clean), meticulous, demanding, exacting, fussy... some might find these apt adjectives to describe what is essentially obsessive nitpicking. I get this a lot at home - "Stop nagging!". But 'nagging' is not the word they mean because you nag a person to do something, and that's not what I do. (oh what a nitpicker I am!). What I do is "harp". I want things 'precisely so', whether it's how we put the forks in the cutlery tray, or how we understand the difference between "nagging" and "harping" or a how we see a situation. And though I'm aware of this evolution towards uncontrollable fussiness, I usually let myself give in to it. Why? Because, after all is said and done, it's downright satisfying to know that I made my point thoroughly, or that "my way or the highway", as my sons refer to it, is actually the right way! (and not in the political sense, but rather as in the opposite of wrong). This doesn't mean I am always right - on the contrary, and I welcome it when someone's way of doing things or definition of a term, or attitude toward a situation is more on the target than mine. It's a relief, because ultimately, what it means is that a battle to the depths of oblivion has been mercifully avoided!
But let me begin to tie the ends together because there is a point to all of this. You see, yesterday, my nitpicking-ness veered off to the outrageous - leading me to laugh at myself and my obsession, and turning it all into blog material in my mind. Nitpicker that I am, I want to get it all down in words, but at the same time, I'm hoping to be exonerated, not that I'm actually guilty of anything... but just because I feel like I am.
The word in question was 'reponer' (Spanish for... well, you'll see). So there I was, hurrying out of the building to get to my next class in another building 10 minutes away from where I was, and as I shot down the hall, two teachers (not native English-speakers) standing in the doorway of one of the classrooms, beckoned to me to clear up a doubt they had. They asked me if there was such a word as 'reposition'. I hemmed and hawed for a moment (I had to come back from the inside of my own head where I was deep in dialog with myself about other issues) and then said, "Yes, of course: to reposition." "What does it mean?" "Reposition - to put in another position." "Ah yes... okay, so would that work for 'reponer'?" "Hmmm... well reponer, hmmm...you mean maybe replenish?" "Replenish?" "yes, like to replenish an amount".... (time was ticking, but they didn't look convinced, and the truth was, neither was I!)... I started backing away, still trying to come up with a better alternative, then turned back and called (by this time I was a few feet away from them) "or replace!" "Oh, yeah, replace," they cried jubilantly. "Yeah that's it! Thanks!" And I went on my way feeling relieved that I'd found the word.... but then, wait! Was that really the word? I mean it could have been 'make up'... like when you have to make up your hours at work after you've been absent... at that point, I realized that I was nitpicking - surely they couldn't care less by now, having gotten the word they wanted. Why couldn't I drop it? But in my mind, it went on and on... It went like this:
Me talking to Other Person whose native language is not English:
me: .... so I mean, it could be 'make up', or 'put back'...?
O.P. - well, but replace sounds...
me: I mean, I'm sorry to be such a nitpicker, but... I mean, do you know what a nitpicker is?
O.P.: -very picky?
me: well yes, but I mean the expression... do you know what a nit is?
O.P.: not really
me: well it's the egg of a louse. Do you know what a louse is?
O.P. : yeah, like: What a louse! Like, that's a lousy excuse...
me: yeah, but no, I mean the real meaning of the word - which is singular for lice...
O.P. : oh really? I thought it was lice/lices
me: no, it's louse/lice... so, can you see the allusion?
O.P. : I'm not sure... someone who picks the nits out of their hair?
But let me begin to tie the ends together because there is a point to all of this. You see, yesterday, my nitpicking-ness veered off to the outrageous - leading me to laugh at myself and my obsession, and turning it all into blog material in my mind. Nitpicker that I am, I want to get it all down in words, but at the same time, I'm hoping to be exonerated, not that I'm actually guilty of anything... but just because I feel like I am.
The word in question was 'reponer' (Spanish for... well, you'll see). So there I was, hurrying out of the building to get to my next class in another building 10 minutes away from where I was, and as I shot down the hall, two teachers (not native English-speakers) standing in the doorway of one of the classrooms, beckoned to me to clear up a doubt they had. They asked me if there was such a word as 'reposition'. I hemmed and hawed for a moment (I had to come back from the inside of my own head where I was deep in dialog with myself about other issues) and then said, "Yes, of course: to reposition." "What does it mean?" "Reposition - to put in another position." "Ah yes... okay, so would that work for 'reponer'?" "Hmmm... well reponer, hmmm...you mean maybe replenish?" "Replenish?" "yes, like to replenish an amount".... (time was ticking, but they didn't look convinced, and the truth was, neither was I!)... I started backing away, still trying to come up with a better alternative, then turned back and called (by this time I was a few feet away from them) "or replace!" "Oh, yeah, replace," they cried jubilantly. "Yeah that's it! Thanks!" And I went on my way feeling relieved that I'd found the word.... but then, wait! Was that really the word? I mean it could have been 'make up'... like when you have to make up your hours at work after you've been absent... at that point, I realized that I was nitpicking - surely they couldn't care less by now, having gotten the word they wanted. Why couldn't I drop it? But in my mind, it went on and on... It went like this:
Me talking to Other Person whose native language is not English:
me: .... so I mean, it could be 'make up', or 'put back'...?
O.P. - well, but replace sounds...
me: I mean, I'm sorry to be such a nitpicker, but... I mean, do you know what a nitpicker is?
O.P.: -very picky?
me: well yes, but I mean the expression... do you know what a nit is?
O.P.: not really
me: well it's the egg of a louse. Do you know what a louse is?
O.P. : yeah, like: What a louse! Like, that's a lousy excuse...
me: yeah, but no, I mean the real meaning of the word - which is singular for lice...
O.P. : oh really? I thought it was lice/lices
me: no, it's louse/lice... so, can you see the allusion?
O.P. : I'm not sure... someone who picks the nits out of their hair?
me: right, but think how tiny nits are... I mean if you were trying to pick the nits out, it would take forever, and it would be really tedious... pretty useless, actually, considering the lice would continue hatching eggs.
O.P.: oh, so it would be pretty gross, and it might make you cross-eyed or give you a headache.
me: yes, that too, but I mean in a figurative sense... can't you see it? I mean look how I'm just going on and on with this explanation, trying to get you to understand all the little details...
O.P. - Oh, now I get it!... HAHAHAHA, and you're right. You really are a nitpicker!
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Stream of Mantras
I have been having the same kind of conversation over and over with different people lately. The theme is along the lines of: life's a bitch. And it's true - life's a bitch. It ain't easy sometimes - maybe even most of the time. You make mistakes, you forget to do things, you hurt people, you get lazy and just want to blow everything off, you get stressed out and it exhausts you, you fear tomorrow, you regret yesterday, you don't want to face today, you hate yourself for all the things you do wrong, you get pissed off at others for all the things they do wrong, you go bananas over the slightest thing gone wrong, you miss opportunities, you miss people who have gone, you don't get enough sleep, you eat too much and too many of the wrong things, you can't find the energy or desire to do anything, you get depressed because you're sitting on your butt lacking the energy or desire to do anything, you need more time, more money, more love, more comprehension, and so forth, etc., etc., etc., ad nauseum, ON AND ON beyond infinity! OKAY! So it's true! But so what?
We're alive aren't we? If life's a bitch, it's also gotta be a pretty awesome bitch. You can't have the bad without the good, remember? It's all part of the package.
So I've been having these conversations with people and inevitably, I think of my mantra stream. I didn't start out thinking of it like mantra stream; in fact, I just now put a name to it after having had my umpteenth conversation of this sort. I have tried to explain the other side of "life's a bitch" a million times but evidently the words I use sound too pat, too hollow to the person I'm explaining them to, but what no one seems to realize is that, although each word/phrase by itself may sound corny, when you string them out into an ongoing mantra, they let you see the other side of the coin - the awesome side. Here is part of my mantra stream. The words/phrases go in no particular order; they're not the only ones; I'm constantly adding new ones; I pull them out of the air as needed and as often as necessary in order to bring myself back to peace and acceptance of life:
ALL I CAN DO IS ALL I CAN DO - after you say it a few times, it starts to sound completely logical and you know it's true. You might be on the brink of tears when you say it the first time, but by the time you get to the last repetition, you can feel that shrug of total acceptance at the end and move on)
HARMONY - first I say it, then I think it, over and over, until it's more like I'm listening to it, feeling it, moving inside it...
RHYTHM - I alternate this one with Harmony - they go together...
GET UP! - an inner shout to myself, followed by: ON THE COUNT OF 3 (or 10, or 50, or 100) This is a good one when I'm lying around and I know I should be doing something but just can't get up the gumption to do it. This one doesn't need repetition. Once I'm up, I'm up.
STOP THIS! - another inner shout to myself, also followed by: ON THE COUNT OF 3 (or 10 or 50 or 100) This one works when I'm whining to myself about whatever... or when I'm going deeper and deeper into a destructive emotion/state of mind; sometimes, I might start to lapse back, but usually, one more reminder will do the trick, or I follow it with:
LOOK AROUND! This one gets me focusing on something outside myself - something within my sight at that instant; if I feel a need to focus on something beautiful, it usually means going outside if I'm not outside already, or looking out of a window, but sometimes I might have to wander through the house, repeating it a few times until I'm in the kitchen, let's say, and notice that I've got a beautiful lettuce in the fridge and all I have to do is wash it and cut it up for a salad, and add a bit of avocado... and turn on some music, oh, that's lovely.... looking around is really easy; you can always find something to focus on if you look around.
SCREAM! - I used to do this on a regular basis, one scream, loud and long; scared my father half to death once, and on another occasion, caused my boss to practically jump out of his skin. This is a wonderful release when you feel that you just can't take it anymore; it will drain you completely - plus you get to feel wicked and gloriously free. You do need to find the place to do it though - like driving alone in your car, or being at home alone (if you have thick walls so the neighbors don't freak out). Over the years, I've found a more sociably acceptable substitute for screaming, which drains me just as thoroughly without scratching up my throat, although it's still quite a challenge. The substitute mantra is:
SING! - which I do when I'm alone, as loud as I can and until I'm completely worn out. It feels really really good. Try a song that you find especially difficult - with high notes, or difficult breathing rhythms. By the time you finish the song, you've not only come to terms with what was bothering you, but you've also restored your good feelings and belief in yourself. However, be careful not to bite off more than you can chew when choosing your song! Otherwise you'll have to deal with temporary defeat (that's why I said it's more challenging than screaming). I've been working on this one song for the last two weeks, and was getting more depressed than ever, as I couldn't belt it out the way I heard it in my head (and the way Celine Dion sings it; it's an Etta James oldie called 'At last'). But 3 days ago, I finally got it right - I was driving to work alone, and I'd just finished my coffee, and you know drinking hot liquid helps the vocal chords loosen up for singing (ever noticed how Barbra Streisand always drinks tea during her concerts?) So I let loose once again, and when, miraculously, I had sung it out loud and clear to my satisfaction, I almost cried with happiness! Just knowing I'd done it, FINALLY, made my day, and the next three days too!
REMEMBER! - If you say "remember" over and over you start the memories flowing; then it's up to you to filter through them in order to choose the ones that are most relevant to you at the moment.
DEAL WITH IT AND MOVE ON! - This is a hard one. Because, of course, it simply isn't that easy. This one always comes with a counterpart, such as "I can't!", which must be dealt with with:
WHY THE F#$%K NOT??? Sometimes, asking that is an invitation to war, because of course there are always reasons for not being able to deal with things, and sometimes, I can't even put my finger on the why of it all, in which case I give myself an answer like "because....". Then I need to reflect until I can really give some reasons, and then, after listening to myself for awhile, politely insert the follow-up of:
SO THE F#$%K what? And at this point, I start the whole mantra stream: all you can do is all you can do, REMEMBER, LOOK AROUND!, etc., etc., and if nothing else works, just repeat:
TOMORROW! - repeating this word a few times helps me put things in perspective, because I know that tomorrow will be another day, and I'll have another chance to deal with it all, so for now, I can just STOP THIS ON THE COUNT OF 3 and let it drop.
Does that help?
We're alive aren't we? If life's a bitch, it's also gotta be a pretty awesome bitch. You can't have the bad without the good, remember? It's all part of the package.
So I've been having these conversations with people and inevitably, I think of my mantra stream. I didn't start out thinking of it like mantra stream; in fact, I just now put a name to it after having had my umpteenth conversation of this sort. I have tried to explain the other side of "life's a bitch" a million times but evidently the words I use sound too pat, too hollow to the person I'm explaining them to, but what no one seems to realize is that, although each word/phrase by itself may sound corny, when you string them out into an ongoing mantra, they let you see the other side of the coin - the awesome side. Here is part of my mantra stream. The words/phrases go in no particular order; they're not the only ones; I'm constantly adding new ones; I pull them out of the air as needed and as often as necessary in order to bring myself back to peace and acceptance of life:
ALL I CAN DO IS ALL I CAN DO - after you say it a few times, it starts to sound completely logical and you know it's true. You might be on the brink of tears when you say it the first time, but by the time you get to the last repetition, you can feel that shrug of total acceptance at the end and move on)
HARMONY - first I say it, then I think it, over and over, until it's more like I'm listening to it, feeling it, moving inside it...
RHYTHM - I alternate this one with Harmony - they go together...
GET UP! - an inner shout to myself, followed by: ON THE COUNT OF 3 (or 10, or 50, or 100) This is a good one when I'm lying around and I know I should be doing something but just can't get up the gumption to do it. This one doesn't need repetition. Once I'm up, I'm up.
STOP THIS! - another inner shout to myself, also followed by: ON THE COUNT OF 3 (or 10 or 50 or 100) This one works when I'm whining to myself about whatever... or when I'm going deeper and deeper into a destructive emotion/state of mind; sometimes, I might start to lapse back, but usually, one more reminder will do the trick, or I follow it with:
LOOK AROUND! This one gets me focusing on something outside myself - something within my sight at that instant; if I feel a need to focus on something beautiful, it usually means going outside if I'm not outside already, or looking out of a window, but sometimes I might have to wander through the house, repeating it a few times until I'm in the kitchen, let's say, and notice that I've got a beautiful lettuce in the fridge and all I have to do is wash it and cut it up for a salad, and add a bit of avocado... and turn on some music, oh, that's lovely.... looking around is really easy; you can always find something to focus on if you look around.
SCREAM! - I used to do this on a regular basis, one scream, loud and long; scared my father half to death once, and on another occasion, caused my boss to practically jump out of his skin. This is a wonderful release when you feel that you just can't take it anymore; it will drain you completely - plus you get to feel wicked and gloriously free. You do need to find the place to do it though - like driving alone in your car, or being at home alone (if you have thick walls so the neighbors don't freak out). Over the years, I've found a more sociably acceptable substitute for screaming, which drains me just as thoroughly without scratching up my throat, although it's still quite a challenge. The substitute mantra is:
SING! - which I do when I'm alone, as loud as I can and until I'm completely worn out. It feels really really good. Try a song that you find especially difficult - with high notes, or difficult breathing rhythms. By the time you finish the song, you've not only come to terms with what was bothering you, but you've also restored your good feelings and belief in yourself. However, be careful not to bite off more than you can chew when choosing your song! Otherwise you'll have to deal with temporary defeat (that's why I said it's more challenging than screaming). I've been working on this one song for the last two weeks, and was getting more depressed than ever, as I couldn't belt it out the way I heard it in my head (and the way Celine Dion sings it; it's an Etta James oldie called 'At last'). But 3 days ago, I finally got it right - I was driving to work alone, and I'd just finished my coffee, and you know drinking hot liquid helps the vocal chords loosen up for singing (ever noticed how Barbra Streisand always drinks tea during her concerts?) So I let loose once again, and when, miraculously, I had sung it out loud and clear to my satisfaction, I almost cried with happiness! Just knowing I'd done it, FINALLY, made my day, and the next three days too!
REMEMBER! - If you say "remember" over and over you start the memories flowing; then it's up to you to filter through them in order to choose the ones that are most relevant to you at the moment.
DEAL WITH IT AND MOVE ON! - This is a hard one. Because, of course, it simply isn't that easy. This one always comes with a counterpart, such as "I can't!", which must be dealt with with:
WHY THE F#$%K NOT??? Sometimes, asking that is an invitation to war, because of course there are always reasons for not being able to deal with things, and sometimes, I can't even put my finger on the why of it all, in which case I give myself an answer like "because....". Then I need to reflect until I can really give some reasons, and then, after listening to myself for awhile, politely insert the follow-up of:
SO THE F#$%K what? And at this point, I start the whole mantra stream: all you can do is all you can do, REMEMBER, LOOK AROUND!, etc., etc., and if nothing else works, just repeat:
TOMORROW! - repeating this word a few times helps me put things in perspective, because I know that tomorrow will be another day, and I'll have another chance to deal with it all, so for now, I can just STOP THIS ON THE COUNT OF 3 and let it drop.
Does that help?
Sunday, March 20, 2011
All in good time
Sometimes I begin my blogs without titling them, letting the title come to me along the way, but today I felt compelled to start off with the title itself. Somehow I knew it would center me. And yet, after such a long time having passed with no blog entries, I had no idea what I was going to write about, so I'm not exactly sure why I titled it as I did - it just came out as I clicked inside the title box.
Although, as I continue writing this, I'm relaxing into it. It feels right, doesn't it? I'm sure that's what I really meant to write about, because after all, Time is what Life is all about. From the issue I just mentioned, about not having blogged in so long, to the situation I'm living, trying to spur myself on to get things done and keep the ideas coming for new projects, the saying about 'all in good time' does truly fit!
And I think I will use it in my English course this bimester, which focuses on expressions and sayings in English. It's kind of nice to stop and take a breath and tell yourself, as Grandmother B. used to tell me when I was running around, trying to hurry things up: "slow down, there's plenty of time, plenty of time." (She always said it twice, and in a very relaxed voice complete with Russian accent and intonation).
Of course, technically I suppose, time does end for you when you die, but I think the essential "you" continues throughout the time that's still being lived by your loved ones, meaning you are still alive in the time of the people you affected during your life - take my Grandmother B., for example, who is here with me writing this blog 18 years after she died! In other words, the more people we know and love in our lives, the more time we get after we're gone. After that, I guess it'll just depend on how many stories are told about us to future generations. For example, Car will get talked about plenty to any future grandkids he would have had. His image is so powerful that hopefully that generation will feel they actually knew him!
Okay, but let's get back to the real issue here and the fact that Time is only relevant as such to those who are living within its bounds. In my case, for instance, I go from totally forgetting it exists (time flies when you're having fun), to worrying about it slipping away (like sands through the hourglass), to trying to balance things - making time for the things I want to do - lists and lists of them - and getting things done in time in spite of all the time lost in dreaming and procrastinating.
And whichever mood I'm in, whatever mode I'm in, be it:
assuring me I will do it...
all in good time.
Although, as I continue writing this, I'm relaxing into it. It feels right, doesn't it? I'm sure that's what I really meant to write about, because after all, Time is what Life is all about. From the issue I just mentioned, about not having blogged in so long, to the situation I'm living, trying to spur myself on to get things done and keep the ideas coming for new projects, the saying about 'all in good time' does truly fit!
And I think I will use it in my English course this bimester, which focuses on expressions and sayings in English. It's kind of nice to stop and take a breath and tell yourself, as Grandmother B. used to tell me when I was running around, trying to hurry things up: "slow down, there's plenty of time, plenty of time." (She always said it twice, and in a very relaxed voice complete with Russian accent and intonation).
Of course, technically I suppose, time does end for you when you die, but I think the essential "you" continues throughout the time that's still being lived by your loved ones, meaning you are still alive in the time of the people you affected during your life - take my Grandmother B., for example, who is here with me writing this blog 18 years after she died! In other words, the more people we know and love in our lives, the more time we get after we're gone. After that, I guess it'll just depend on how many stories are told about us to future generations. For example, Car will get talked about plenty to any future grandkids he would have had. His image is so powerful that hopefully that generation will feel they actually knew him!
Okay, but let's get back to the real issue here and the fact that Time is only relevant as such to those who are living within its bounds. In my case, for instance, I go from totally forgetting it exists (time flies when you're having fun), to worrying about it slipping away (like sands through the hourglass), to trying to balance things - making time for the things I want to do - lists and lists of them - and getting things done in time in spite of all the time lost in dreaming and procrastinating.
And whichever mood I'm in, whatever mode I'm in, be it:
- "why bother?"
- "I'll do it later"
- "I've got to finish this!", or
- "If only I could find the time to do it!"
assuring me I will do it...
all in good time.
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