A Civil War In Your Brain/Inner Pigdog

Tuesday and I'm on fire! I'm getting addicted to getting things done - making epic, challenging lists every day and making it almost a game to see how much I can cross off. So much fun, even the yucky stuff like balancing the checkbook. And it's a mish mosh of business and personal stuff - one minute I'm chatting up a client or sending an invoice and the next item on the list is planting the flower boxes and beautifying the deck. Nothing leisurely - I'm a woman on a mission - got the boxes planted in under a half an hour. Yeah, yeah, I know it's weird to be purchasing and planting annuals in late July, but this has been a weird summer - delayed life.

Tonight Catherine, Christ and I are going to see A Little Night Music up at the Writer's Theater in Glencoe.  Catherine says it's Sondheim's "Magic Flute" which she considers Mozart's magnum opus. Carol says it's mind boggling good and The Wall Street Journal even sent a reporter out to cover it and said it was the finest performance of all time - that you would never want to see A Little Night Music done in a large venue with Broadway actors ever again. Learning to adore Sondheim - a lot of people don't "get" him. This last year I've learned two of his songs, "Not A Day Goes By" and " I Think About You." Mark, my voice coach says, with reverence, that you never take liberties with his music - it is perfect and complete, every single note, every syllable - even his placement of little words like "but", "a", "the". You don't mess with Sondheim. Looking forward to hearing "Send In The Clowns" tonight. Tomorrow I'll report.

Lucas (Liza) and family are en route to Baltimore for Henry's cochlear implants. They will be making this huge trek many times this year. First the surgery, then the implants will be activated and programmed, then lots of tweaking and evaluations as he learns to use them. What's maybe not intuitive is that, just because his brain will be getting the input, doesn't mean it can make sense of it. Remember that book Incognito about the human brain? Vision, for instance, is as much about the sense the brain makes of the input as the input itself. Without context and experience, trial and error, the brain can't translate the input into anything meaningful - the stimuli is gobbledygook until it sorts it all out. So it will be with Henry. Initially, hearing for him will be an assault - a cacophony of garbage, crazy making. It will be up to Liza and the professionals to help him make sense of it all. She is still freaking out over how they are going to be able to fund this huge undertaking. I've talked to friends about what we can do to host a benefit or some kind of fundraiser to help with the expense of it all. Last night, I sent Liza on her way with a care package of tiny sandwiches, brownies, gluten-free cookies for Henry, cherries, raspberries, blue cheese olives doused with vodka, crackers, cheese and more more - two bags full. Surgery is Wednesday morning.

Today I'm thinking about a concept from Incognito - making a contract with your future self. Remember Christmas Clubs where folks would have their bank withhold funds so they would have money for the holiday? Or maybe you've heard of websites where you make a contract to lose weight and have to forfeit money if you don't accomplish the goal? I know I've talked about this before - the example of Ulysses lashing himself to the mast of his ship so he could safely sail by the island with the singing Sirens. I don't think I'm alone in perpetuating bad habits that I know aren't good for me - succumbing to the temptation of a moment, hating that I can't exercise perfect willpower all the time. Truth is, that's not how we're built. Willpower waxes and wanes and when you have a surge of it, you can use it to shape your future by creating  contracts with your future self - doing something in the here and now that will get you through the weak times. These days my willpower surges - I'm feeling powerful again, capable of anything. I have willpower in excess.

So, today a contract that's just about killing me to do. I know tomorrow, I will regret it very much, try and undo it - the clarity of today will have dissipated. I am 100% sure that I am about to make myself miserable - that I will weep in anger and disappointment at what I'm in the process of doing, that tomorrow I will beat my chest over the injustice. And I'm not even exaggerating. Patrick's Facebook - it's my only link to him. We're not friends, but he and Madeleine are, so I log in as her - many times a day. It's unhealthy.....I know it, and yet I still do it. These days, there are no updates because he is in Ireland. Every day I wait for his return, eager to see pictures, wanting to know that he's within my geography again, wishing for the pulse of him, loving him through a tiny aperture. Today, I asked Madeleine to change her password - it's good they remain friends - she and he have their own special relationship and she may need him some day (that's their business). I also sent word to my network guy to go into my firewall and disable Facebook access. Sarah is bound and determined to put the past behind her. Really hard though.

Here's a quote from Incognito that explains this conundrum. Eagleman describes the left and right sides of our brains as a team of rivals - needing each other but competing with sometimes conflicting agendas - civil wars in the brain democracy on many days.

The observation that people are made of conflicting short and long-term desires is not a new one. Ancient Jewish writings proposed that the body is composed of two interacting parts: a body (guf), which always wants things now, and a soul (nefesh), which maintains a longer-term view. Similarly, Germans use a fanciful expression for a person trying to delay gratification: he must overcome his innerer schweinehund - which translates, sometimes to the puzzlement of English speakers, as "inner pigdog." 

Your behavior - what you do in the world - is simply the end result of the battles. But the story gets better, because the different parties in the brain can learn about their interactions with one another. As a result, the situation quickly surpasses simple arm wrestling between short and long-term desires and enters the realm of a surprisingly sophisticated process of negotiation.

Challenge today is thinking about this concept, specifically as it relates to the congruence between your daily habits and actions, and your long term goals. Consider the benefit of making a contract with your future self. Be realistic that you need to take action in the present to be able to weather your future weak-willed days. If you've got a substance abuse problem, it could be checking yourself into rehab where you won't have access to the substance you're trying to free yourself from. If you have a problem getting up in the morning, maybe schedule time with a personal trainer for 7AM, Monday through Friday - it will hold you accountable. If you find yourself sinking into depression every lonely evening, get out your calendar and schedule something for every night. If you need to lose weight make a bet with a friend where you stand to lose a large sum of money if you fail.

Today, I lash myself to the mast. I owe it to myself to walk the walk, put the past where it belongs and embrace the future free and clear. I will not be dashed upon the rocks of heartache and loss. I am travelling safely to calmer waters.

Peace,
Sarah

Olympic Torch/Nothing is Sacred

Sunday night - getting a jump on my week by writing this early. Weekend was fine and I hope yours was too. Friday, Maggiano's piano bar in the city (Clark and Grand). Met friends Judy and Claudia there and we had dinner sitting at the piano, listening to Bobby Salone sing and singing ourselves. Diet cokes and an early night that ended at 10PM meant it was a very well mannered evening so Saturday got off to an easy bang. Groceries to get supplies for epic pizza night, a call from eldest daughter, Catherine who wanted to bake a cake at my house, racing to Wicker Park for a voice lesson after making a huge bowl of pizza dough and then back to the house with two hours to get ready for the first inaugeral "Sarah Cooks On The Last Saturday Of The Month" day. Quickly assembed a "Better Than Sex" chocolate cake and prepped twelve pizzas.

The thing that was interesting was not knowing who was coming. I had put the word out to everyone but in the end I didn't know if I was cooking for three or thirty. At one point I truly believed it might be just me and twelve pizzas. But people drifted through all evening - mostly friends of Elizabeth (middle daughter), Shay and friend, tenant Mario and some of his posse, a gal I met at The Landmark Forum, and a few of my friends. I cooked and cooked all evening long, turning out interesting pizza after interesting pizza. Favorite was probably barbecue chicken which I made with Sweet Baby Ray's barbecue sauce, perfectly cooked white meat chicken, smoked gouda, cilantro, red onion, red bell pepper and a smattering of red pepper flakes for a bit of kick. And today, there was still leftover ingredients for another eight pizzas. So, today found me back in the pizza kitchen (alone this time) assembling more pizzas for freezing and later cooking - nothing went to waste. Thinking Shay is going to be in heaven to have a never ending stash of gourmet pizzas in the freezer to choose from.

These days I'm really good. The optimism I acquired at the seminar last week is holding me in good stead. Were you a fly on my wall, you would catch me in a smile many times a day as I think about the blank slate that is my future. Don't know why that's smile inducing - should be terrifying, but I love the thought that I am the architect of my future. And energy abounds. Knee is good thanks to the round of steroids and I'm getting so much done - making enormous lists and just cranking through them. This week I start physical therapy for the knee.

OK. What I'm thinking about today is how I make sense of the feelings I still have for Patrick in the context of the breakthroughs I've had. I would be lying to say that putting the past where it belongs - in the past means I no longer think of him. Different though. I know the love affair is yesterday's news and, if we reconnect in the future, it will be something brand new. And I'm pretty darn sure there is someone else out there who has been waiting for me to get my act together.and come to him with a free and available heart. So,question again. How do I reconcile the deep love I still have for Patrick with my unstoppable future?  What do I do when thoughts of him visit me?

Thinking of the Olympic flame and just read the history of it on Wikipedia. Liking the metaphor, comparing the flame of love I carry for him - a love that can't be extinguished - to the torch that is carried along a route that represents human achievement. The Olympic torch endures, ignites arenas with fresh possibilities, provides a connection to the past while inspiring fresh achievement. It is a pilot light of human accomplishment.

Decoupling the past from the present and future is what makes the unknown exciting (and scary). The whole "future as a blank slate" thing. Thinking though it shouldn't be confused with erasing the past. We can't escape our memories and the feelings that well up when folks from the past revisit us in our dreams and reveries. Nor should we. The challenge and opportunity for me these days is in letting those feelings wash over me, breathing in and out, smiling when a memory tickles my fancy, tearing when something hurtful revisits, and then letting it go, go, go - sending it on its way or tucking it in yesterday's bed to sleep in the past. You arise, shake it off, smile in gratitude for the moment and then get the next item on your list done.

Challenge could be taking your own optimism temperature. Are you feeling mired, fatigued before the day even begins? Do you believe in your ability to get things done and make forward progress with the initiatives you have identified as being your future path? Or are you just filling the day, busy making, convincing yourself of your productivity but really just marking time until you can go to bed? Thinking it all comes down to your relationship with the future. If you are ground hogging every day, then your future looks exactly like your past and if you hate much of your past, what's the point of waking up in the morning? If, on the other hand, you decide, "We're going to try something new here!" - then the world becomes your oyster with the promise of pearls. You wake up with a plan and you don't let anyone sidetrack you and drag you back into your winter den. Everything gets looked at with fresh eyes - has to interview for a place in your future. Nothing and no one is sacred.

Love this:

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore.Dream. Discover" ~ MARK TWAIN

Peace,
Sarah

What Do You Do When You're a Stradivarius and You're Losing Your Strings?

Friday, and a weekend. No Schaller's tonight - Bobby, pianist is out of town so Judy and I will go to the piano bar at Maggiano's and have a blast singing for the patrons there. Last night a long ride out to Joliet to the Hollywood Casino to have dinner with Christ in their fancy restaurant, The Final Cut. We had a wonderful bottle of red wine and special Japanese steaks from cows that had been massaged. The chef came out twice to make sure we were happy and the staff was nervous, I could tell, wanting it to be perfect for their boss. Thinking too, they were curious about me and my relationship to Christ which was cute. And really nothing there - C. and I are just friends. Funny, when you meet someone and are attracted - a possibility opens but then, in time, if it doesn't leave the dock, that ship sails away and those feelings dissipate. These days I just enjoy his friendship with no desire for it to be anything more. It's good that way.

My life is a blank page now that I've relegated the past where it belongs - the past. Reminds me of The Waldorf School where I sent my kids. Their text books were blank - seriously! Imagine getting your Physics book and it being a bound book of empty pages that you would, in time, fill with drawings and notes from Socratic lectures. I love that way of learning - it's so organic and the knowledge lives within you, in a way that studying words and drawings on a page just can't accomplish.

But how intimidating to think of the future as a fresh piece of blank paper with limitless possibilities! I'm a kid in a candy store with a drippy cold! Today, attending to infrastructure stuff - bills etc. but also spinning some dreams with toilet paper stuck up my nose. You'd never know by looking at me today that I'm feeling like the world is my oyster! So far my list - the things I'm inventing the possibility for, are:

• the possibility that I will be right-weighted and athletic (already well on my way, but I want to keep that vision front and center and take it home)
• the possibility that I will be a truly great performer. I'm at that point where I have some talent but I need to do hard stuff to cross the threshold into being great. Too many singers of my caliber, think they're better than they are, cling to bad habits, don't record and critique themselves including their stage presence, aren't humble enough.
• the possibility that I can do work I love, maybe even a late in life change of career. I'm in the enviable position of being able to work this job and create something new at the same time - I have time for that.
• the possibility that I will find a romantic relationship. Now that I'm committed to leaving the heartbreak of the last year behind, it opens up the possibility that there is someone out there I could partner with.
• the possibility that my family can be really close - me and my girls, a formidable team of women. And my nuclear family, three brothers and a sister and a mother - we haven't been close in years - we could be close again.
• and more, more, more.

One interesting thing. In the Forum, we were asked to throw out future possibilities that we could embrace fully. People said stuff like, "a great relationship", "success in my career", "a good relationship with my daughter", etc. I surprised myself when, what came out of my mouth was, "aging". Everyone said, "What?" I had to explain that sometimes you have to embrace the thing that is most terrifying, make it your magnum opus. Some of you have the whole aging thing well in hand - your life feels like it's on track, children, grandchildren, a spouse, you're a deacon in your church, you have grown into the role of an elder. Not me! Fingers in my ears, singing loudly, La, la, la....I can't hear you!!! - eyes closed when the subject of growing old comes up. It's just not for me - I declare myself exempt. Old people are pathetic - they are the "others". Gross.

Article in the NYT today (or was it New Scientist?) about super models aging. Question one posed, "What do you do when you're a Stradivarius and you're losing your strings?" Really hard for them, having lived their entire lives relying on their superficial beauty for their livelihood. And there is a fascination with decaying beauty - every wrinkle is scrutinized. I'm a mess over this especially because I'm single. Not for me the peace of being in a relationship with someone who is committed to me despite the toll gravity is taking. There is so much pressure to be visually beautiful and appealing. Latest is my eyelash extensions - they are stunning! The regimen is daunting! Highlights, waxing, eyebrow tinting, gel nails, pedicures, dieting, expensive creams, liquid nitrogen to remove sun spots, clothes, self tanner, hats to keep sun off, makeup, teeth whitening.  Arg!  Why are we so visual!!! Damn, what a burden it is!

Rambling today, I know. Got to get work done - got a life to live over here. Challenge today is thinking about aging, beautifying - how much effort you make to keep your vessel shiny and attractive - is it worth it? Should we do more? Less? Is it possible to be loved if your container is a messy, unkempt, weedy garden? Or, if by just letting the weeds take over, you're projecting that you've given up, just don't care much for yourself and others shouldn't either.  Thinking Andy Rooney really should have trimmed those eyebrows and got nosehair clippers..  I dunno....I'm betwixt and between on this topic. Kaveh says the container means nothing, that beauty is within. I'm not sure anyone wants to discover the "within" unless the "without" looks well tended. I'd love to see comments on this topic - it troubles me.

Peace,

Sarah

Picture is a gross example of NOT aging well!

Tow Straps/Bionic Boy

Last night, the writing group - so much fun! And a good large group, think there were more than eight of us. And afterwards great conversation with Lucas and Convex at the Orrington. Lucas is on pins and needles because in a week they drive to Baltimore for Henry's cochlear implants. She is very brave indeed to be doing this - Western medical solutions fly in the face of everything she believes in. What's more, people with implants are more susceptible to meningitis because there is a direct pathway from the outside air into their brains and it was meningitis that caused Henry to lose his hearing in the first place - meningitis runs in Lucas' family. And then there's the aesthetic piece of it. One of her friends whose son got implants said she no longer derives pleasure from nuzzling her son because he smells of electrical circuitry. As Lucas says, "I'm turning my son into a bionic boy." And yet, if all goes well he will have hearing and speech. Such a trade off and such a leap of faith for her to do this. Courage, yes?

Today, a WW challenging day! Lunch with employee and friend Dorothy and tonight dinner with Christ at the casino he manages the hospitality for. I just got on line and studied the menus and have decided ahead exactly what I will order so that I can stay WW compliant today. Last week I worked so hard - had a practically ideal week and woohoo! - I lost .4 pounds (less than 1/2 pound). Remember I said that I am adjusting my expectations? Well that put me to the test. In the past I probably would have thrown in the towel (stupid diet) but now, I'm grateful for the weight loss which was the equivalent of two sticks of butter. And just think, if I lose 1/2 pound a week in a year, I'll be down 26 pounds and that is nothing to sneeze at.  And yet, hard, right?  Grrrrr...

James was brilliant again last night - wrote a piece about an evil tree. Over drinks I asked him what I need to do to get my hands on his recent writing so that I can post it here - even offered him sexual favors (jokingly of course). He led the prompts last night. The first one was a picture of a tree with the directive to write a piece where a tree was central to the story.  Here is what I wrote:

"There is no such thing as a dwarf cherry tree," Alan said. "It's a con, just wait and see. That thing will be twenty feet within the next five years," he added as he looked out into the yard. I'd planted the sweet little thing with the hope that I could harvest buckets of sour cherries for pies and preserves. I'd convinced myself I would spray early in the spring so that the harvested cherries wouldn't each contain a thread worm. I would climb a ladder and drape the tree with netting to keep the cardinals from devouring the crop before me. 

Mother always said, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." I wasn't good to my word and so the tree grew and grew and the cardinals grew fatter and fatter. I have never even eaten a single cherry from that tree. 

There was a man I loved - still love. He wasn't always the most demonstrative to the people he loved, father mother, sister, brother. He even resented them much of the time. But he was a man of deeds. On many occasions he showed his devotion by cutting or trimming their trees. I remember a time when his sister was out of town. He took a day off from his regular chores (and me) and took down a dead tree in her yard. I remember listening fascinated as he described climbing it, chainsaw in hand, protective shoes, a helmet I think. And tow straps on his SUV that assisted with the hauling. 

This man is huge - it had to be a large effort just to hoist himself up the trunk. Thighs the size of small children, arms the circumference of Scarlet O'Hara's waist, he must have been a sight to behold in that tree. I wish I had been a squirrel in the next tree over, watching him take it down. I love imagining his sister's surprise and delight upon returning from her trip to find the dead thing gone, things tidy, the wood cut up with precision and shaped into a new wood pile against her fence. No note, no expectation of anything in return. Just his love for her expressed in the vanishing of a tree. 

When I think of him these days as I sit on my deck, coffee in hand in the quiet reverie of a fresh morning, sometimes my eye is drawn to the now huge cherry tree - the tree that mocks me with its too high cherries. I remember he once said, "I will top that tree for you." He never did - we never got that far in our relationship.

Often I still miss him and in those quiet moments I fantasize that some day I'll come home from a trip, and as I put away my clothes and stretch my weary arms, I will stand at my window, look out into the yard and see, with wonder and amazement, that half the cherry tree is gone.

It was good to write that. Today I'm writing this blog with kleenex stuffed in my nose because of incessant dripping. Me who rarely gets sick. Think it's because I'm on steroids - they dampen your immune system and so the cold, that I would normally dodge, seized its opportunity. Ugh.

Challenge today is something I beat the drum about. Do you have a creative outlet - something that gives you deep contentment and satisfaction? For me it's writing and singing primarily but also cooking and entertaining. This Saturday, I have an open house for whoever wants to come. New thing is to cook for the world on the last Saturday of every month. This month it's gourmet pizza. I have no idea if I'll be cooking for three or thirty. It will be casual, unfussy and, I hope, a blast. No RSVP's needed - just show up! Lucas is especially looking forward to the pear, Gorgonzola and walnut pizza. There will be twelve different types. Come! 1211 Dewey, Evanston.

Peace,
Sarah

Transitions/Integrity

Last night was the final session of The Landmark Forum - the night you come back after the grueling three days, talk about what it was like to take the new tools out into the world, discuss and strategize about obstacles you encountered, and more. It's also a night where you bring friends and family and there is a focus on offering to them the possibility of acquiring this education for themselves. Sometimes it felt pretty evangelical and sales-pitchy, but that's OK. The facts boil down to, this is an education for living that really works, helps people, believes in itself and needs to beat the drum to be self perpetuating. If you can't promote yourself and what you believe in, what can you promote? So I cut them slack for the full court press and sometimes sounding like mattress salesmen - there really is no room for subtlety when you have an urgent and passionate agenda. And some of my peeps were there - Elizabeth, Shay, Liza, James (Lucas and Convex) and Victor. I felt well supported and happy to have peeps. Catherine had a conference call she couldn't reschedule and Madeleine had to work. 


What I'm thinking about today is transitions and how difficult they can be. I'm starting to suspect that success in this world belongs to people who either have learned to manage well the transitions in a day or who just come by it naturally. I'm also thinking about integrity which was a huge theme over the weekend - being a person whose word can be counted on.

Yesterday Josh and I discussed the subject of transitions at length. Because we both work for ourselves in unstructured environments, managing transition and balancing work and home can be really tricky. When I'm working on a deadline, I'm a woman on a mission, single-focused, economy of effort, a cut to the chase worker. But, when I've just got a list of stuff I need to do sometime, I dally and doodle, talk on the phone at length about "important" stuff, fritter away the day too often. I succumb to the lure of my technology, checking in on Facebook, jumping like a Pavlovian dog when I hear a text come in, fooling around with my IPad, click, clicking the day away with little to show for it. I'm pretty sure that, now that I've identified the problem, there is a solution here - pretty sure it's going to come down to acquiring new mental muscle memory, laying down different habits which will feel forced at first but which will, in time, become rote.

I experienced this first hand with the vodka thing. Once I made a decision to give it up (except Federal holidays!), it was awkward and my mind was full of "dialogue" when I was in a situation where I would normally have a drink. "I'll have a martini. Oh, right, I'm not doing that anymore. But, I've had such a shitty day and why did I make that rule after all? If I have just one, it will be fine. I'm really a lot more fun when I have a drink - it is a Friday night after all. Everyone else is drinking - it's weird to be the only one not. This is really hard. Etc. Etc."  Such chatter in my brain over the decision! In the end, after listening to the "discussion", I'd make the right decision. "Patty, can I have a diet coke." And I would enjoy the diet coke and another and another. The next week, I'd remember how much the diet coke was fine, and the voices that challenged were much quieter. And the next week, it wasn't even a question - I looked forward to the cokes and relaxed into the evening in what had become a new familiar way of being. So, now when I go out, I rarely drink at all - not even wine. It just isn't me anymore. I'm a diet coke kind of gal. I've acquired a new habit, new mental muscle memory.

So transitions - should be able to apply the same principle, right? My next push for productivity will be holding myself to tough transition standards for two weeks - like a drill sergeant. Will make a list every day with start and stop times, set alarms throughout the day that signal when certain activities should start, keep a journal of how I spend every minute - be non-negotiable to my schedule. If someone calls to chat, I will postpone the chat until the time slot of the day designated as personal downtime. I know this sounds draconian but I think it is a worthwhile exercise for those of us who lose too many minutes to meaningless activities. The work day needs to be tough and efficient and structured for goals to be met. If you have a job you go to, chances are your work day is naturally well structured and none of this relates - or maybe it still does, if you spend a lot of time at the water cooler. I'm pretty darn sure that, in two weeks, there will be a new rhythm to my life where I'm able to fit a whole lot more work product into my day. I also think the benefit will be felt in my personal time as well - getting things done.

Finally, the integrity thing needs talking about - being a person who can be counted on to keep their word. It all starts with yourself. In the 7 Habits, Covey talks about the contracts you make with yourself as being the foundation for credibility in the world - they are the most important contracts we make. If we say we're going to do something and then fail to keep our word, bits of us die in disappointment. Every time you keep your word to yourself you grow in personal stature. And when you are a person who can keep your promises to yourself, you then have extra currency to spend in the world. People come to know you as a person that does what they say, that can be counted on. Word spreads, credibility grows. You're recommended for jobs, friends introduce you to other friends, people want you in their lives or on their projects. And this can't be faked - you can't be a person who fails to keep personal promises but tries to keep external commitments. The Forum leader, Kathy, would say that's putting icing on a mud pie. Covey would caution that people will see through you. Without being specific, I'm disappointed when friends and family say they will do something and then don't come through. I'm disappointed with myself when I do the same. And it's not a good/bad thing, right/wrong. I still love them and myself, it's more a matter of foundational trust. Who will you recommend for a job - the person who is never on time or the one who is dependable? It's ripping yourself off, not to be the person who can be counted on. There is a huge opportunity cost in being a person whose word can't be taken to the bank. Or to put it in positive terms, being a person with unflinching integrity is to be a leader.

In the past year, I've gotten sloppy with my word - making excuses when I don't follow through, cutting myself slack, being listless and careless with commitments. It's not who I've been historically - like martinis, it's something I've tried on for size (being irresponsible) and it's not a good new habit. Again, it takes mental muscle memory. Declaring the possibility that you can be a person who is good to their word - always, no matter how many obstacles are thrown your way, and then living into that possibility is the place to start. Not easy to put into practice but like anything - making intractable promises to yourself  that will result in a new way of being that will, in time, be as natural as breathing.

Challenge for today is giving thought to these two subjects: transitions and integrity. How are you managing your hour by hour transitions? Are you leaking time? And how good is your word - are you a person who makes a commitment and can be counted on - always?

Peace,
Sarah

Burt and Barbra/Knees

Tuesday and tonight is the final, celebratory night of the Forum. I've asked the girls and a few friends to come for the "graduation". Didn't ask friends that I know it would be a burden for (too far, health, etc). Should be interesting and intense!

And the talk with ma mere went very well yesterday. Not an Oprah over the top, crying, over-emotional talk - it was quiet and thoughtful and grateful. Nice. Good. Today I feel like I've expelled a weighty boulder from my gut. She has to be really happy today, having gotten me back, finally.

So what to talk about today? I'm not going to beat the Landmark drum, don't think I'll talk about it much at all because it really doesn't lend itself all that well to words on paper and unless you go through it, you'll weary of the discussion. So, no more talk about it - just actions that arise from the insights that I will share as they unfold, if they are interesting to write about.

Last week I decided on the final theme of my Cabaret show - Songs of Burt and Barbra. Do you love that as much as I do, or should I explain? I've been on a Burt Bacharach kick for a while now, learning and performing some of his great songs like, Walk on By, Alfie, A House is Not a Home, The Look of Love, Aways Something There to Remind Me, I Say a Little Prayer, Promises, Promises, Do You Know the Way to San Jose, What Do You Get When You Fall in Love?, etc. And NOOO! I'm not going to sing Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head - that is an insipid song! He wrote so many songs that I could, in truth, do a full show of just his tunes. New friend and fabulous singer, Trish (she is a MUCH better singer than me) has agreed to do the show with me. Her strong suit is dramatic songs with long sustained notes, and she does an especially good job with Barbra Streisand tunes. What's cool about combining the two is that they are contemporaries - Barbra has sung a bunch of Bacharach, there is wonderful alliteration in the title, Burt and Barbra - both simple names starting with "B" and having an "R" - kind of rolls off your tongue. Finally, the songs are very different - they will juxtapose well in the same show - the Bacharach songs bouncy and upbeat (even when they're sad) and the Barbra songs dramatic and sweeping with long legato phrasing.  And!!!!! - our voices blend gorgeously together so the duets should give you goosebumps.

And here's the deal. I'll give you the date as soon as I have it and, if you are my friend, you need to put it on your calendar with in inviolable circle around it. You are NOT to schedule your European vacation at that time, let your kids pick that date for their wedding, close on a new house on that date. Unless you are out of the country at the reading of your rich Malaysian uncle's will, or in the hospital for non-elective surgery, NO EXCUSES for not coming! I'm putting a line in the sand here! Making my need known LOUD AND CLEAR!  If I'm going to do this, I need your support. Deal?

And if I seem a bit hyper today, it could be because I'm on steroids - Day #1 yesterday - took six of them and today five, and then one less every day over the next four days. It's the bad knee that has a miniscus tear, osteo arthritis and that I just fell on when I tumbled down the front stairs (it just can't get a break - wait that's an unfortunate expression in this case - I was lucky it didn't get a break!!). Anyway, I think I was working out too hard over the spring and it caused a massive flare up that all but crippled me - I haven't been able to do the 10,000 steps for a few months now. Doctor injected it with cortisone which helped a little but I was still not able to resume my normal level of activity. He wants to inject it with something high tech called Synvisc but the insurance company insists on a three month period of a more conservative (less expensive) treatment, hence the steroids followed by physical therapy. Then, if in three months I still need it, they may approve the Synvisc. I'm headed for knee replacements at some point in my future.

Just broke a Sarah rule - never talk about the weather or your health, especially as you get older. Have you noticed that is all older people talk about and it's so damn boring!!! I know the health stuff looms as you age and that there is commiseration among the elderly but having health issues doesn't preclude living a vital life and having interesting things to discuss. Knee problems and weather are NOT interesting topics - think even Robin Williams would groan if he had to improv on those two topics.

Keeping it short today so I can get stuff done. Challenge is whatever you want to make it today - who am I to suggest?

Peace,
Sarah

The Landmark Forum

Monday. This weekend The Landmark Forum which was an intense three days, each day starting at 9AM and going to 10PM with two 30 minute breaks and one 1.5 hour dinner break. So.......what to say. Weird that I, of all people, find myself at a loss for words. Hmmmmmm......... Did I say, so..........?

Talked to my friend Rose about it this morning. She is the one who pushed me to take the course. It had been on my radar for years, have friends who went through the curriculum who, not only, didn't seem worse for wear, but who seemed to possess contentment and mastery in their lives - living testimonials. And the thing about Landmark that can be offputting/unappealing is the zeal of the organization and the members in recruiting people to go through the education - it is scary to be pursued in that way, gets the hackles up. Smacks of Jim Jones. So, for years, I suspected there was something good there - I had even signed up once but then gone on line and read scathing articles that warned, Beware! Cult!, then backed out. But it kept coming back on my radar and people who I couldn't dismiss as being sycophants or kooks, said, "Go."  So I did go all armored up, questioning my decision every step of the way, feeling foolish, skeptical to the max, worried about being brainwashed, but curious.

Following is some of what I experienced. I'm not going to be able to walk you through the whole premise of the forum - much of it seems to defy description - it really has to be experienced to understand it.


Lesson #1. We live captive to the stories we tell. If you're a regular reader of this blog, you know I've talked about this. In those posts I went through the exercise of revisiting events from the past and trying on a different lens/interpretation and writing a different or stronger story that served me better in the present. In the Forum, people got up and briefly talked about their stories. Some of the stories were heartbreaking (death, molestation, humiliation).  


In the language of the Forum, we examined the "rackets" that we run on people in our lives - rackets like gangsters. For every story, there are players running rackets on each other, the stories justifying the rackets. If your uncle raped you when you were fifteen and you found yourself, in your adult life, unable to be happy (failed relationships, melancholy, not able to hold a job) and the story you told yourself and everyone is that your failure to live fully was because of this thing that happened to you when you were fifteen, the racket you're running could be that you are justified in being paralyzed in life because of what happened when you were a teenager. Put another way, the story you're telling serves a purpose. It gives you an excuse for not going about the hard job of living your life in an honest and authentic way with integrity. Why would you give that story away when it is so useful in justifying your unhappiness and under-performance?  


The discussion that followed was identifying the cost of running those rackets. What is the cost of the stories you carry around. Failure to thrive? Loss of an important relationships? Loss of health? The list goes on and on. The stories and the rackets we perpetrate kill off future possibilities. Remember Virginia Wolfe walking into the rushing stream with her pockets full of heavy rocks? Think of those stories as heavy rocks that weigh you down, or worse kill you. Leave the stories behind by getting "complete" with them, own up to and apologize for the rackets you've been running and, voila, their hold on you disappears like magic.

The part of the Forum that required suspension of belief from me, was just this - that transformation can happen in a moment. The analogy they use is the moment when you're learning to ride a bike and you discover balance - it happens in a moment. I've always been under the impression (years of therapy) that transformation is a hard work process, one baby step after another. When I saw people talk, tell their stories, admit the rackets they've been perpetuating, identify the cost of those rackets, and then use the power of their promise and declaration to own up to their role - to forgive and ask for forgiveness. When I saw that happen over and over I was moved but worried. I worried it was a carnival act,  that people were being swept away by the euphoria of the moment to pull the scabs off what shouldn't be touched and that, once the carnival broke down and moved on to a new city, they would be left worse - that the transformation wouldn't hold. Kind of like drinking Draino and then being made to throw it up - it does as much damage on the way back up as it does on the way down. It felt dangerous to me.

There was something else. I didn't want to talk about why I was there - my inability to get over Patrick even though I quickly identified the racket I was running on him. First, the story about the child with three fathers but no fathers, who was abused, abandoned, neglected - who was always left and who learned to beat others out the door at the first hint of being left - who armored up early and went out into the world and used those weapons to dominate others. I realized, too, I was clinging to the heartbreak of being left so I could say, "Told you so, everyone leaves me." And clinging to my loss gave me an excuse for not getting back on my horse - looking for love again and risk having my heart broken again. What's more, I have loved the drama of being a broken-hearted woman. Friends say, "How are you doing." I weep at sad songs and wear my broken heart on my sleeve for the world to see. I write poignantly about love lost. I sing like Billy Holiday. I excuse myself for not living passionately and effectively because, after all, I have a broken heart. Blah, blah, blah.

So I was afraid to tell my story in front of the group, identify my racket and have to get complete with Patrick. I didn't want to be complete with Patrick - didn't want to live in a world without him in some form or fashion. Didn't want to close that chapter completely because the nothingness of it terrifies me. It took until Sunday morning for me to do the homework - to write a letter to him asking for his forgiveness for running a racket on him. I also realized that getting complete with him doesn't preclude being part of each other's lives. Who knows what the future holds - could be we find it best to let go completely and just cherish our memories, or we could end up good friends. Anything is possible with integrity. Life holds surprises and promise.

It was Sunday after lunch when I braved the microphone - I was one of the last holdouts. I didn't want to weep in front of 100+ people and, in the breakout sessions, I couldn't even speak about Patrick without tears erupting. But I got up and told my story. I intended to ask for help in getting over him - getting complete with him. Instead I found myself telling the story of my childhood, my mother's role, my resentment of her and identifying the racket I've been running on her. I barely mentioned Patrick and the last year's paralysis. When I did mention him, I took ownership of my role - that the story I tell of being the girl that is always left, made me bring that very same thing true in the present. Most of you don't know that it was me who broke up with him - that I left him. I was so sure he would leave me, that, at the first hint of trouble, I bolted.

And yet, up at the microphone, it was getting complete with my mother that surfaced as being urgent. Right then and there I forgave her and it was real - not a carny act, not me being swept away by group think. Just the light bulb going off that I have been complicit and using her as an excuse for living an anemic, unfulfilled life. I also realized, she is who she is, nothing else. What happened happened. So, poof - it's gone, those caustic feelings. Right there, like riding a bike and discovering balance - in front of all those people.

Today or tomorrow, I'll call her and it won't be like castor oil, telling her I forgive her and asking her to forgive me for making her a scapegoat. I won't be faking it or fulfilling a duty to do this - I actually do love her, heart and soul. She's a pain in the ass much of time, a non-mother too often but she's my non-mother and I'm lucky to have her. I know she's never, for one day, not loved me in her own non-mother kind of way and that I've broken her heart by disowning her. Now, we can have something new. Really and truly.

And so, the Landmark Forum.  It's very powerful. It's simple. It's not a cult. I recommend it to anyone who suspects they are living an inauthentic life and who wants more.

Peace,
Sarah

Eyes Open/Nepalese Machete

Thursday and thank God for the gloomy, rainy day! It could rain for the next week solid and the water table still wouldn't be in good shape. When it's this dry, you can almost feel the earth's raspy voice, begging for a drink - it hurts. I can relax today, knowing that drink is finally here. Tonight Victor over for what he calls "the finale". He will put his final touches on the Zen home office that he conceived, spec'd and made happen and that I'm the happy inhabitant of. I remember a similar time when my office storefont was new. Steve flew his friend in from Seattle twice - once to walk around rubbing his chin and saying, "Hmmmm..." a lot, and then back again to oversee all the changes. One thing I'm good at is staying out of peoples' ways when they are the expert - delegation is something to get good at! When Scott came from Seattle, he transformed the office into what was really an office/gallery with hanging lighting, Ralph Lauren color palette (paint colors normal people would never think to combine), Herman Miller furniture, a mirrored hanging sculpture and black and white photos of historical Evanston from negatives borrowed from the historical society (he works in a museum so he had museum photo reciprocity). I was allowed one decision to make me feel like I had a part in the design process - I was allowed to  pick out a single carpet runner! And the office I'm sitting in now - Victor allowed me to pick the art for the walls. As Cole Porter would say, "Swonderful"

Just had a fun, flirty conversation with a Nigerian con artist - lovely fellow who wants to make me his Queen (in capital letters). He wants to "Love and Respect Me" - also in all capital letters. What do you think? Should I give him a shot?

Today, I reread an article that Josh sent me that blew us both away. Think it will you too. It's from Psychology Today - actually an issue that caught my eye when I was in the check out line at Whole Foods when I was buying a card and a cake for Ryan's birthday. Not sure what caught my eye, thinking it was the article on the front cover (not the one Josh just brought my attention to), "The High Art of Handling Problem People."  It made me think of Ryan because he has difficulty with people and gets really rageful when people cross him. Digressing I know, but he's fascinating. One night at dinner recently he described his new house in scary Garfield Park - a mansion in the hood. It's almost a given that, once the seedier elements in his neighborhood get wind of the improvements, they will want to check things out firsthand - under cloak of darkness, probably with a weapon. They will regret it because Ryan will be ready for them. If they make it over the twelve foot wrought iron fence that's painted on the top with slippery paint that never dries, and they jump to the garden below, their feet will be impaled by spikes that are designed to cut through shoes. If they're lucky enough to fall between the spikes and not be crippled, they will have to penetrate the front doors (yes doors) of reinforced steel. Assuming they breach the front door, they will be met inside with a noise so terrible it will make their eardrums pop with blood. At the same time, the entire house will fill with smoky mist, disabling their ability to see, which will probably be for the best because, if they could see, their blood would freeze in their veins to see a commando coming down the stairs (wearing earplugs and special glasses that allow him to see through the smoke).

Recently on his way home, Ryan was faced with a would-be attacker who had his eyes set on knocking Ryan from his bike and robbing him - it's a common kind of assault in that neighborhood. The mistake most people make, according to Ryan, is thinking they can veer clear of the attacker at the last minute. Ryan has ice water in his veins, so he quickly assessed the situation and sped up - set his course to run down the attacker at high speed. There was fierce eye contact that accompanied this strategy. The guy was immediately transformed from hunter to hunted and he jumped back from the curb and ran from Ryan. Next day found Ryan on the Internet researching which Nepalese machete to buy. "I have no problem beheading someone who is trying to rob me," he said casually.  His plan is to wear the machete in a holster on his back with one-hand access to it. Should he be faced with the same situation, he'll reach back with his right hand, unsheathe the machete and brandish it as he rides. Hopefully word will get out to leave him alone and he won't use it!

Anyway, the article in the May issue of Psychology today that Josh found so inspiring is entitled "How To Grow Up," by Pam Weintraub who interviewed psychologist David Schnarch, an expert on intimacy. One of the opening paragraphs:

Once considered a heretic, Schnarch is today a distinguished presence in psychology, a pioneer set on redefining intimacy and reinvesting marriage with the passion that usually fades. "It's easy to have hot sex with a stranger," Schnarch insists. "But passionate marriage requires that you become an adult." 

And this, Schnarch admits, is a challenge. Becoming an authentic adult means going against the whole drift of the culture. It specifically means, among other things, soothing your own bad feelings without the help of another, pursuing your own goals, and standing on your own two feet. Most people associate such skills with singlehood. But Schnarch finds that marriage can't succeed unless we claim our sense of self in the presence of another. The resulting growth turns right around and fuels the marriage, enabling passionate sex. And it pays wide-ranging dividends in domains from friendship to creativity to work.

This goes against much of what we've come to believe is true - that relationships are all about oneness and attachment. Schnarch maintains that traditional marital attachment is stifling and prevents growth - "it reduces adults to infants." He talks about the need to differentiate - where you can live happily in close proximity to another while still maintaining selfhood - interdependence versus dependence.

I like this very much and it reinforces the work I'm doing on myself, specifically the AloneAsArt. I'm pretty sure that unless we have the skills to do good alone, we can never be good in a relationship. We will be looking for another person to soothe us like a mother. We need to be able to soothe ourselves. And then there is the sex and being able to experience true intimacy - terrifying as that can be. He talks in the article about one couple who were failing to connect. His prescription? - open their eyes during lovemaking. Harder than it sounds!

Eyes-open sex drills right to the heart of differentiation and drives the process of growing up. Closed-eye partners can get close enough to copulate, but not so close that they have to confront the differences between them or delve into who they are. The discomfort of eyes-open sex, on the other hand, heightens connectivity. Physical sensation and emotional connection become integrated rather than remaining separate dimensions that can interfere with each other. At the same time, the sense of individual selves is enhanced.

Challenge today is reading this article. Here is the link again. Josh and Ryan were blown away by it as was I. When I finally fell in love, there was much about it that was wonderful but in love, there is stuff that bubbles up from God-knows-where that is just not good - dependency, clinging, worry, suspicion, jealousy, lack of focus, fear of the future. I see now, that ugly stuff is the infantile side of ourselves that is awakened from its disappointed sleep - the infant that lives in sulky slumber in each of us, waiting for a good mother - a mother who won't screw up this time, who will always be there, who will never take her eyes off us, who will love us every single minute of every day with eyes for no one else. Perfection love, impossible love and yet the love we still in our tiniest self still seek.


Growing up - hard. The assignment is being that mother to yourself so you can be good for yourself and other people.


Peace,
Sarah

Joining a Cult/Group Think

Wednesday and no plans for the day other than continue to battle pockets of chaos that moved over from the office or down from the upstairs - new carpeting forced a purge which is wonderful but means going through bags and bags and stacks and stacks of stuff, looking for that one jewel of a document that God forbid gets thrown away with junk. So, as tempting as it is just to junk the whole lot of it en masse, I'm going through it all with a fine tooth comb. Yesterday saw me stoking a huge fire in the fireplace on a 100 degree day - burning anything remotely sensitive. With each pile that gets relegated to the alley, I'm finding my energy increasing. Wonderful. 


And I almost forgot to write today! Can't remember when that's happened before. I think it's because I'm feeling less like "talking" and more like "doing". As you can imagine sometimes it's really hard to find something to wax poetic about! Today is one of those days so I might cut today's entry a bit short.


Oh, and Friday, no post because I'm joining a cult and I'm almost not kidding. Landmark Forum. Most of you know of it. Some people have told me they, themselves attended one or more Landmark seminars and they got a lot out of it. Other's have said, "Run for the hills!" It is very cult-like, even in how they conduct themselves prior to the seminar. I've been in their cross-hairs since I signed up months ago. Some days I get no less than three phone calls (all unanswered) from them - thinking they want to rope me in and ensure that I really will attend. Finally talked with them yesterday and the women was ecstatic to finally get me live on the phone - as if it had become her life's mission to talk with Sarah Britton. She gushed. I was cool.  Definitely leery. So, you ask, "Why are you doing this if you are so suspicious of them?" Excellent question (do you like how I can dialogue by myself?) There have been a handful of people I admire, who seem to have impressive mastery over their lives, who have gone through the seminar and who say it changed their lives. By now you know that a) I'm a person on a perpetual quest for betterment and b) that there are areas of my life where I'm very stuck no matter what I do to change.  If this seminar can help me more forward and put the past behind me, it will be a Godsend.  


But their tactics! Classic brainwash! They spend a lot of time breaking you down - thinking they're not satisfied until you get up in front of a roomful of strangers and cry like a blubbering baby. Maybe I'll just start practicing now - the whole blubbering thing. I'll think of my beloved Elvis who I nursed from 4 weeks, who slept between my breasts as I cooked - Elvis who got out one day and was decapitated and left dead in the yard. If I think of that day, I will bawl convincingly and then maybe they'll torture some other participant. The seminar goes from 9AM to 10PM three days in a row, Friday-Sunday, and then the full evening on Tuesday. By the end, if they've accomplished their goal, you breathe, preach, dream everything Landmark. You go out into the world like a robot and recruit others to go through the seminar. You sign up for advanced classes and devote your life to them. You volunteer many hours a month to working the phones and recruiting new members.

Kaveh hates them - is trying not to use his influence with me to pull the plug on my attendance. When asked, he said, "I don't like religion in any form."  Interesting. Didn't know Landmark could be described as a religion. He obviously thinks so.  He clarified by saying that anything that results in group think is repellent to him. Me too. I hate group think so what the hell am I doing? Will they break me? If, on Monday, I gush Landmark this and Landmark that, you'll know I've turned Stepford on you. Someone, please, if that happens, kidnap me and de-program me.

Like what the Buddhist daily dharma said today and it jibes with what we're talking about:

Against the Stream

The unflinching light of mindful awareness reveals the extent to which we are tossed along in the stream of past conditioning and habit. The moment we decide to stop and look at what is going on (like a swimmer suddenly changing course to swim upstream instead of downstream), we find ourselves battered by powerful currents we had never even suspected—precisely because until that moment we were largely living at their command.

I'm a salmon fighting her way upstream - against the tide of mindless popular culture. I've always treasured my different-ness (some would say weirdness). I try to get the people I love to question everything, to make enlightened, individual decisions - to create their own code of conduct and living that is uniquely theirs, not something they've been spoon fed and that they follow mindlessly. Thinking this seminar will be interesting for me. They will have no idea when this pleasant, middle aged woman walks in that I will be their biggest challenge. Not sure I want them to know - maybe I should try and extract the goodness while flying under the radar - not make waves like I'm famous for.

Nervous about this - thinking it might be a big mistake.

Peace,
Sarah

Fill or Drain?/AloneAsArt

Tuesday and session with Kaveh this morning on the phone. This was to be the next to the last session - one more phone and then me driving down to Louisville, KY for a final good-bye sometime in August. In the last fifteen minutes of the session, I confessed some things that were on my mind, things I'm worried about, thoughts that seemed unhealthy. He was silent for a good while, then said, "Our work is not done. We need to rethink the end date." And remember, he was the one pushing for closure - he's not a therapist motivated by his own financial need (probably helps that he's married to an heiress - his wife's grandfather founded Humana). So, hmmm...the therapy continues. When he said that, I felt two things: disappointment that I don't have a mental clean bill of health after all but also relief to have unburdened myself and know that I'm still in his care and that maybe these deep issues can see the light of day and lose their hold on me. Not like me to be coy with details, I know, but some things really need to stay private. Suffice to say, I'm basically OK. I wouldn't want to be anyone else but me. Victor says he reads this blog every day to get his daily dose of crazy. I don't mind being called that - I know I'm eccentric and I know he loves and admires me. But really, crazy I'm not. I am, in truth, one of the most healthy people I know - brave enough to question everything, brave enough to do battle with demons, and brave enough to live well despite how hard life can be.

New mantra I've been reciting to myself that I find extremely helpful. I'll preface this by saying,if you live a crazy busy life with every moment scripted with kids, work, etc. you probably won't be able to relate. It's the alone thing again and how you fill unstructured time. When I described this to Kaveh I thought of his life - how vital it is. He's in that stage of life with kids, family, pets, work, social engagements (because he married into a socialite family, there are lots of parties to go to!) that leaves him almost zero down time. Thinking when he DOES get an hour to himself, he's like a kid in a candy store with a stack of books or articles to read, friends to contact, tennis, fishing. His quandary is probably in choosing a wonderful fulfilling activity.

I said I was going to get really good at this alone thing - look it square in its face and make it an art form -  AloneAsArt. What that means, though, is constant evaluation to make that happen - reality checks, taking your contentment temperature, so to speak. So I ask myself frequently these days, "Fill or drain??" And I require an honest answer of myself. If the answer is "drain", it requires an immediate course correction.  Let me explain. We all know whether we're engaged in an activity that is life affirming and fulfilling, right? We also know when what we're doing is enervating and depressing. I'm remembering a time, before I gave up television, when I used to fight the end of the weekend by refusing to go to bed - I would sit in a dark room glued to the television and, if at that moment, you had asked me what I was watching, I seriously couldn't have told you. Sometimes it was the late night post game sports commentaries that I stared at. If you had quizzed me about the content, I wouldn't have even been able to tell you what sport was being discussed, never mind which teams played. There was also a time where I shook myself to consciousness and said to myself, "You've seen this episode of Everyone Loves Raymond at least four times!"

Drain or fill. We know, when we zoom out, shake ourselves out of the moment, whether we are taking care of ourselves, or whether we are just marking time, numbing out, failing to grasp the moment in a better way.  And what's tricky, I think, is that, what filled us one day may drain us the next. Case in point. I spent happy hours this last weekend with my new Kindle reading a magical book which I finished yesterday. Last night I opted not to go to Petterino's - it's an example of something that was once a "fill" becoming a "drain" through repetition. I decided to stay in and start a new book but, when I took my temperature about my evening plans and asked the "Fill or Drain" question, I knew I wasn't up for more reading in solitude - too much of the same. So I shook myself to action and asked Madeleine,who was doing her own version of "drain" (vegging out with her computer), if she wanted to do dinner and a movie. We rallied, went out and had a great time - saw the new Woody Allen movie and went to the French bistro where she works (since it was a night off for her she got to be a patron rather than an employee).

Challenge today could be implementing "Drain or Fill" in your own life, questioning yourself several times a day. It's usually really obvious if you step out of yourself for a moment and do the litmus test. Having said that, there are activities that are more neutral that may be hard to define, like work, or vaccuuming.  If you're vaccuuming, even though it's not an uplifting activity, you may find satisfaction in maintaining cleanliness and order - so that's a "fill". The work you do should be "fill", even if the immediate task at hand is difficult or boring.  If not, then that's something to give long and hard thought to. Idle time can be either - what looks like goofing off can be just what the doctor ordered. Watching a wonderful British comedy that makes you hoot with laughter, that fully engages you has to be a fill - you know when something is bringing you contentment or joy. Even sitting with a cup of coffee staring out a window for an hour with interesting thoughts may not look like much, but it might be your most important fill of the day. You get the idea! I'm thinking, with practice, it might become second nature to gravitate toward "fill" activities and steer clear of the drain ones - we might not have to always think so hard about it.  For now, for me, Living Well requires vigilance - daily care and nurture. It's not always intuitive.

Peace,
Sarah

My Precious/Eyes Open

Welcome back to Monday. Weekend was as I made it. Friday Schaller's with Judy and Carmen - we three broads sang well and the patrons loved us. Actually, I was the weakest of the three, not fully on my game. I started the evening feeling teary for some reason, arrived late, distracted but I rallied and immersed myself in the festivities - made myself have fun. The great thing about not drinking is the clarity - Josh's term, and he's so right. You see everything properly. You drive home stone cold sober, being mindful of the other drivers who may be inebriated. In my case, I even read for an hour before bedding down and then, the next morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed like the squirrels outside my window in the favorite elm tree, ready to start the day in an industrious way without the painful veil of the night before to contend with. And what is so interesting is the whole habit thing. At first it was a struggle - saying good-bye to the favorite cocktail, learning to have fun without altering the brain chemicals. Now it's just habit, and a comfortable one. Things do change.

Saturday, friend Tom drove in from Crystal Lake. He, James and Liza (Lucas and Convex) came over for dinner. I made pasta primavera, roasted chicken, appetizers from the Whole Foods olive bar, and for dessert, brownies and pistachio ice cream. I had none of it except the chicken - made myself plain brown rice and vegetables sauteed in Pam. Drank ice water and had a WW ice cream for dessert. Yesterday Pam and I went to 12 West Elm to sing with Bob Salone and his gang of merry revelers. "Twas a lot of fun. When I sang, I Thought About You  (it keeps getting better and better), Pam said she had chills and performances rarely affect her that way. And then, when I was leaving, another singer, a very, very handsome young man came up to me and told me I got his attention when I sang, asked if we could sing together some time, and requested my phone number. Young though...what's with guys in their twenties and older women..weird right?

I'm in love, really. OK, it's with an inanimate object, but nevertheless, my affection almost knows no bounds! I've even kissed this new love object several times! It's as close to perfection as anything can be. "What," you ask breathlessly, "can this thing be?" It's my new Kindle Touch. I must be the last e-reader hold out, clinging fast to my paper books until now. But lately things people have said -they were die hard paper readers too, but now they are total converts - made me think I should give it a try. And really, it goes hand in hand with the whole getting rid of stuff thing I'm doing these days. I want my life simple and tidy - books can overwhelm. So, my Kindle - it should have a name (working on that). I bought the Touch because it's the model that's closest to paper - not backlit (when the sun goes down, you need to put on a light), and because it's small enough to slip into my purse. Got the simplest model ($99) - didn't need all the bells and whistles of the fancier models - I have my IPad for that stuff. I also bought a purple case.

On Friday it was delivered - elegantly packaged. I unpacked it with reverence and appreciation and immediately snapped it into the case. I swear I could hear the planets sigh in appreciation when the case and the device were united - I can't even imagine it now without its case - I think I love the case as much as the Kindle itself. Now it's hard to discern where the case ends and the device begins - there is almost a seamless connection between the two. And speaking of seams, the leather of the front flap is stitched on both sides. I've studied this stitching for way too long. Being a seamstress, I looked closely at the tiny stitches and what I've noticed is that the stitching is impossibly perfect. Whenever something is stitched in a circle, you can, upon close examination, find the beginning and end of the sewing. Often there is one overlapping stitch. It's absolutely impossible to find this spot on the Kindle case - magic? Then there is the leather which is the most exquisite port color (did I say purple before - that doesn't come close to doing it justice) and the front flap is reinforced with something strong but light (aluminum?). The way it opens and closes is exquisite - the hinges strong and invisible and perfectly aligned. So I stroke it, rub it against my cheek, and as I said, even kiss it - it calls to me. Is it weird that I call it "My Precious" and use that Golum-ey voice when I say it?!  Wait that's the name! Precious! 


And now I worry that it will become flawed. Liza held it the other night after eating olives with her fingers. I had to restrain myself from snatching it away from her, so fearful was I that she would leave olive-y finger prints on the perfect leather.  Have you noticed I haven't even talked about the device itself - just the case?  It too is perfection in its simplicity. The words on the "page" are crisp and clear, the pages turn with a single touch of my thumb in the r-h corner, if I forget who a character is, I can "x-ray" him and it gives me his stats. Similarly, if I don't recognize a word, I can click on it and it's defined. What I'm appreciating is the perfect marriage of form and function - amazing. Tomorrow I'll tell you about the amazing book I'm reading on it - a recommendation from my literary daughter, Catherine. It's called Night Circus and ----oh, my. 

Also tomorrow I'll talk about something that's been brewing for a while - "eyes open".  It's a theme that keeps presenting itself to me. Most recently Josh sent me an article on marriage that talks about a therapeutic technique for couples called "Eye Open Sex" (it's been a central theme between Martin and me for me to keep my eyes open - intimacy only happens when you're not afraid of looking deeply into someone's eyes). Singing can also be a problem - hard to connect with your audience when you can't look them right in the eye. Last night, as I sang the last note of my sad song, I searched the audience for the most receptive person. I met the eyes of the young Italian boy I mentioned earlier who was looking at me enraptured. I forced myself to hold his gaze - it was a first for me.

Challenge today could be as specific as looking into a Kindle if you've been on the fence - I swear you will be an instant convert, or it could be as broad as taking my experience and extrapolating it it to other objects. I'm thinking the things we choose to keep around us should be inspirational.  Just a few quintessential objects that speak to us.  On my clutter-free desk, I have a paperweight of my mothers that is old and lovely. I also have a tiny box that a client made me that is simple and absolutely perfect, each corner straight and true, the archival paper that covers it appears seamless. I can't conceive how he made it - boggles my mind.  A treasure that has come into its own in the Zen space of my new office.

Hugs to you today - I'm grateful for you.
Sarah

Inez Under Glass/Eat Scones While Civilizations Fall

Some folks told me they didn't get this blog that was composed on Thursday last week and should have been received in your inbox on Friday. So I'm reposting it.  For those of you who read directly from the website, don't be confused to see this out of order. - S.

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Thursday and it's a busy day ahead. Lunch with a friend, ex-employee and her friend/co-worker. Then meeting with a client and this evening Martin, tantra. And the lunch makes me smile because just when I was thinking about being relevant (after disappearing Mike said it was his life's goal), I got an e-mail from Sue saying she is a regular reader of this blog as is her co-worker who I've never met - the gal wants to meet me.  So yay for two things: being compelling enough that someone wants to meet me and also great to actually press some flesh - this one way electronic relationship I have with y'all gets pretty lonely some days!

Last night the writing group did not disappoint - six writers - we all wrote well. I led the prompts and the first was the triptych picture thing I do where I find three random images from magazines like Smithsonian, Vanity Fair, etc. and tape them together into a mini collage. The three pictures I chose were a white orchid, a ballerina on point, and a dark Edwardian looking alley with barred doors. These were recycled prompts - James had this same one last time. Speaking of James, the guy is really honing his skills - we make him read last because it would discourage the rest of us from reading. Second prompt was inspired by nursery rhyme titles and it didn't surprise me that James chose, I Love Little Pussy. He wrote the most hilarious poem and with his permission, I'll share it with you tomorrow. I chose Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater and wrote a piece about female genital mutilation. Here's my first piece for your reading pleasure!

The first time Jason saw Inez he knew she was the one - the one he had searched for, for too long - even longer than it took him to find a brand new heretofore undiscovered orchid. A five continent search that ended in all places, a wooded, jungled area behind a newly built strip mall. All the other orchid hunters, that day, had gone deeply into the jungle, caravans of donkeys and supplies. Jason stayed behind to check out the copse behind the mall - noticed it when he got a latte at the brand new Starbucks, noticed too the rare cymbidium next to the tip jar. When he asked about it with a controlled nonchalance that belied his excitement, the sweet young Spanish speaking girl bubbled over and in Costa Rican valley girl Spanish said, "Senior eet ees so beauoootiful, the jungle behind - I go there on eeevery break.!" 

It was there he found her - orchids would always be "her" to Jason. At first blush, a common phalaenopsis, at closer look, something entirely new and never been seen to his knowledge. The orchid society concurred and waited for him to name it. In due time his orchid would become common - propagated over and over - someday its offspring might even sell for $15 at the local Dominicks. But for now it was rare and new and wonderful and it awaited a name. 

The end of the search created a void in Jason's life - it had consumed him for over twenty years, the quest for ethereal beauty. And really the thrill couldn't be replicated. Yes, he loved his orchids, but now he longed for more, something, someone, orchid-like who he could also own and smell like he did his beauties, but with whom he could also sink his teeth, penetrate. 

Inez - why did it take him so long to realize ballerinas are human orchids. She was graceful with a translucence that rivaled his yet unnamed phalenopsis-like orchid. At the ballet that night, he knew his search was over. It had been easy to get her to his fortress home - just showed her the article about him and the discovery - she was eager to lay eyes on the lovely flower - only a handful of people had seen it. And he made sure no one knew of the invitation and visit - begged her to secrecy for the safety of the orchid. Like everything Jason did, the hunt was well planned and executed. 

She came. He captured. She was now part of his collection - kept in a glass room. He would keep them both always - his two Inez's - his orchid named at last.

I hope you liked that - it was a lot of fun to write. Wish I had more time - it's a challenge to come up with an idea and lay it down in only 15-20 minutes. After the writing, I begged off going out for drinks. As I said yesterday, these days, everything I do is coming under scrutiny - questioning the things I do just out of habit. Lately it's just been James, Liza and I at the Orrington after writing and typically we are tired and drained and should really be home in a hot bath. And these days, there is little inspiration that happens when we three get together to coffee klatch - everything's been said and we keep rehashing the same old stuff and vying for whose life is shittier. When we do have fun, it's when we drag our asses to a play or concert and forget our troubles for a while. I'm not saying we shouldn't hang out - it's just that we need more and different. Time to mix things up a bit.

OK, one really funny moment between Elizabeth (my daughter) and me yesterday. When she came over to drop Joey off for the day, she noticed a cast iron pan with sections (wedges). "What's this?" she asked curiously. As I explained, what at one time seemed absolutely normal to me, I had to laugh at myself. "It's a pan for making scones." "You're going to make scones?" she asked. "No, it was at the office in the pandemic flu supplies." "We were going to eat scones during the pandemic flu?" she asked, confused. "Yes, I had all the ingredients for scones and assuming there would be no utiliities, I envisioned we would cook them in the fireplace, hence the cast iron."  It was at this point, I realized just how over the top I had been - I was working on amassing enough food and supplies to sequester my famility in my home for a full year. And given my Martha Stuart streak, it wasn't enough to just provide them sustenance - we would eat well! While the rest of the world melted down, civilizations fell, there we would be in our living room, singing songs and eating scones! I even had jars of English clotted cream and homemade strawberry preserves to go with them!!!!!  When I moved the office, the clotted cream ended up in the alley - it was over ten years old.

Challenge today is to enjoy your day and this cooler weather. That's all.

Peace,
Sarah

PS. My cell phone is in the next room and is ringing.  I am NOT running to answer it!  It can wait!  It's not the boss of me anymore!

You Will Miss These Days/Friday The 13th

Friday the weekend is upon us. Tonight Schaller's for sure and I'm promised the gang will be there - I plan to sing my heart out. And today is Friday, the 13th, but I decided years ago that days like today are propitious, not to be feared. We can make our own superstitions.

Yesterday, crazy busy day. Lunch with ex-employee Sue and her co-worker - they both, unknown to me, have been regular readers of this blog and Lisa, the co-worker wanted to meet me. Lunch at Blind Faith, my regular healthy haunt - over twig tea we got to know each other. Lisa and I both agreed it was an odd meeting because she knows most everything about me (not a lot of filter there, right?) and I knew nothing about her - how one sided! Upon entering my house, she felt an instant affinity for Joey, having read about his trials in puppyhood - the abuse evidenced by all his scars (he was actually branded with a heart on his back), she and Sue wanted to see the Victor inspired Zen home office, and at lunch she inquired about Kaveh and other items in the blog. Mostly though, I learned about her life to even up things. It was really nice to meet her and see Sue again. Flesh and blood contact - what a concept!

Then a lazy afternoon with client and friend, Paul - he's been a customer of mine for over twenty years. We talked biz and he measured my roof (he does roofing on the side), but mostly we just put our feet up and talked about everything under the sun - for five hours!!!!! That meeting was cut "short" when Martin showed up. Three hours later I was ready for the day to be over - so much face time! These days, I'm alone a lot - yesterday was feast for my normal famine.

Alone is what I'll talk about today. Martin reminded me that years ago, when we first started working together, he had me create two drawings: one of my then current life, and the second drawing of what I wished for. The first drawing was a picture (badly drawn) of me as a furnace with a fire blazing in my belly. I was the largest figure in the picture - around me were smaller people with their hands on me, extracting my energy and warmth (I was tired of being the fire in everyone else's belly). The second picture was me in a sunny happy kitchen, alone, kneading bread, smile on my face. The idea in making the pictures was to put the wish into a tangible form and send it into the world. Lo and behold, it's three years later and these days, I am often happily alone in my kitchen, humming or singing and, if not kneading bread, I'm chopping vegetables for a healthy soup or chile.

I knew three years ago I needed to be alone - at least for a while. I defined the need, drew the need, and by sending the need into the universe, I made it come true. And now I find myself right where I should be, right where I asked to be - alone - but scared as shit. Many days, I run from my aloneness by distracting myself, wishing away hours in pursuits designed to pass time (like hours spent on online Scrabble) or lately, watching an entire season of The Office (in all fairness I've only done the obsessive TV streaming thing twice - it's a new bad habit). When I really need to escape the aloneness, I find relief in sleep. Last weekend was a difficult alone time - so much solitude, the silence pounded in my ears and veins. This weekend will be no different except for one important thing. I am starting to accept and appreciate that this is an important developmental stage for me - something to master and appreciate. Aloneness.

I think it was Victor who said something so profound, "As hard as these days are, you will miss them."  "Miss them? Are you out of your mind!?" I thought. But those words have percolated and rattled around in my head and I'm starting to understand. Last night I talked about it with Martin, started to put my own take on it - put Victor's thought into words that make sense to me. I told Martin I know there will be more interesting relationship chapters for me - one is probably right around the corner. If I'm a betting woman, I would say there will be one or two great loves in my future. And when that happens, I will be ready for it. I will allow myself to fall like I did before. I will invest myself fully, spoil my partner the way I'm famous for - thinking of them upon rising, many times during the day and fall into their arms at the end of the day. They will be a priority. And it will be wonderful - I will be content. At first, it will be fireworks like it was with Patrick. In time, we will settle into a comfortable routine and the euphoria will give way to something deeper but less intoxicating. As years tick by, our lives will be rhythmically in synch, but the price for that will be choosing oneness over excitement. The glittery sharp edges of a new relationship will be sanded dull - comfortable, predictable. Don't get me wrong - I will be grateful for predictable and stable but probably all the engines will have shifted into a lower gear - a sustainable, sane pace with someone who can be counted on to stay.

What I'm trying to convey is that every chapter in our lives has something to offer. We need to be careful not to wish away the stage we're in at the time, even if it's full of strife. It's now, not inconceivable to me that, in a year or so, I might look back at this time with wistfullness. I might long for the edginess of uncertainty, wish for a time when the future was so amorphous, long for a time when all my senses were on high alert. I might think back with wonder to the time when each day started with tears, when my heart practically jumped out of my chest at the mention of his name, when I was searching for answers, trying everything to be well and balanced. I might miss these days - strange as it seems.

I have a friend whose life is a compromise - he lives safely, has made conservative choices and he lacks the bravery to make bold changes. He told me he wants, more than anything, to cry, to feel love so deeply it wrenches his heart. He says there is nothing worse than feeling nothing - that he would, in a heartbeat, choose heartbreak and love lost over the emptiness of a heart that's fallen asleep in disappointment and disuse.

The challenge today is thinking about this. I know many of my friends are in difficult transitions and the thought that they should cherish their difficulties must seem like a bizarre concept. I have friends struggling with illness, financial woes, job challenges, kid issues. I'm betting each of these friends, if asked, is looking with optimism to the future when things might be better. And I'm not saying we shouldn't manage ourselves to a happy future - of course we should. But maybe we should also realize that, when that future comes, it won't be perfect either and there might be something about today (which is the future's past) that, only with the clarity of retrospection, you will value and miss. So, what is it about your life right now that is genuine, exciting, real? What might you be failing to appreciate today? What, if it were gone, would you miss?  I'll answer for me. What's good for me, right now, is the intensity of my feelings. The world is in technicolor. True, some days, the colors are too bright, but overall I am feeling and experiencing things in an acute and appreciative way I never have before. My thoughts are deep and creative. My passions boil. My heart is twice its normal size. And anything is possible! These are things I might miss in the future so I will treasure them now. This weekend, learning to REALLY embrace the lesson that's in front of me - how to make being alone an art form - not running from it - making it special, realizing it's probably just a phase and I might look back on these days and say, "What I would give for a weekend to myself!"

Peace,
Sarah