Helter Skelter/Every Burp of the Earth

It's really Thursday night after 11PM and I'm writing this early in anticipation of a busy day tomorrow. Bright and early conference call with a client who needs me to overhaul their network - that's what I do - tear it all down and then build it back better. Singing at Schaller's tomorrow evening and a holiday weekend that I hope is fun in some way. Wait, it's a federal holiday on Monday!!!! I get to have a martini!  Remember I gave up drinking anything other than an occasional glass of wine except on federal holidays. That was Lucas' idea - since then she has expanded the new rule to include my and her birthdays.  Hmmm...I don't really have much of a taste for hard liquor anymore after abstaining for so long and there is that whole euphoria that descends into midnight sobbing and embarrassing texting.  Lucas says not to worry. Prior to the martinis, she and Convex will take my phone and not give it back to me until the next morning.

So, I'm not OK today - just all talked out, off-base, and helter skelter. Eating was off today - carbs won the day and I didn't do my P.T. I also need quiet time in the office with no interruptions to get needed chores done and these days, it's all interruptions. Told Josh yesterday that I need some quiet reflective time with a spreadsheet. Sometimes, a good spreadsheet will quiet the mind. For my friend Tom, it's network drawings, for Josh it's drawing, for James it's writing or reading, for some old ladies in polyester pants it's time at the slot machines - the things we do to still our over-active minds. Some days, for me, it's doing dishes - the repetition, sound of water running, the warmness and slipperiness of the water.

So many incredible conversations, so many new people in my life - I can't keep track of all the friendly, inviting faces - people who have expressed interest in having a relationship outside the forum. And that's just the Landmark people. Dozens of names to learn at the Women's Club too. I've got to throttle this though - feeling overwhelmed with attention and affection. Not a bad problem, right??

Didn't finish this last night and today is a better day. Got back to basics and I'm working my way through another epic list today. I'm absolutely convinced that self care and getting things done are the non-negotiable keys to the car of happiness. Love the inspiration that has come to me in recent weeks, love the connectedness with friends and family, love my hummy little home with people helping and supporting each other. Love the possibilities - dreaming big, making brave plans. But most of all, I love the feeling of taking care of what's right in front of me. I'm building that muscle and I know it will get me where I want to be in all areas. Do you think it's weird that today, I'm more impressed with the fact that I did my P.T., got a box of books packed, cleaned out my purse, got cracking on a project for a client, and worked with Shay to correct some building violations for the tenants' apartments - than I am of all the marvelous plans I've been spinning?

Speaking of spinning plans, OMG - Lucas. She embodies boldness and bravery - makes me look like a wimp. Here's what's going on with her. You know she is the mother of three, her youngest having been struck deaf as a baby as a result of meningitis. She only recently consented to have him implanted with cochlear implants, overcoming her fears. At five years old he's way behind and once the implants are activated (two weeks from now), the big work begins. Just because sound will be presented to his brain, doesn't mean squat. Imagine you were given a brand new sense - I dunno think of something - being able sense what's going on deep in the earth. That switch is flipped and now, all at once, you are aware of every shift in the tectonic plates, you feel liquid moving beneath, you sense every grumble, every  burp the earth makes. None of it would make any sense at all - it would be an assault to your brain and only through experience would you be able to correlate your new sense with what's going on beneath.

So, Henry.  He needs the assistance of talented professionals who can help him to make sense of the new hearing so that he can learn to understand speech and eventually speak. Problem is there is no school locally that wants him, given how behind he is. Lucas, not to be daunted, researched the best programs in the State of Illinois and found a perfect one. Problem is that it's in Urbana - a three hour car ride from here. Most of us would move on to Option C or D. Not Lucas. She is going to make it happen - pushing down her fears and figuring out how she and Henry can be there four days a week, finding an apartment, learning to drive so they can do the commute. She is amazing and unstoppable.

All for today. Challenge is working with me in finding that sweet spot where you are full of hope, courage and dreams and yet have your feet planted solidly in your current reality (even though we know it's all an illusion, right?) Gotta thrive where you're planted and to do that you gotta take care of the garden, even though it's a repetitive daily chore.

Peace,
Sarah

BINGO!!/Everyone Leaves Me

Thursday and I'm betwixt and between. Kind of stupid day in that I drove to Indiana to meet with a client and we got our signals crossed and never met, so three hours of driving for naught. Then missed a voice lesson with my new vocal coach 'cuz I had the time wrong in my head - walking a tightrope and wobbling it seems. Shay told me Albert Einstein lived so much in his head that he painted his door red so he wouldn't walk past it. That's me these past few days. So much in my head that I'm driving by my street, missing appointments or getting signals crossed, double-booking myself, falling asleep at weird times. I'm feeling out of body and other-worldly.

Friend Josh is staying with me for a spell while he finds an apartment. We went out to dinner and I got to hear about his new job and he quizzed me on my Landmark seminar. We also talked about families and other stuff. What's troubling me is that I just don't know how to "be" with people anymore - since last weekend. I've got to figure this out. Josh is a dear and really open to new ideas and possibilities and yet he struggled relating to me. I found myself slipping into a modulated version of myself, putting the brakes on, minimizing my experience so he would feel more comfortable, being self-deprecating. And I was hurt and disappointed when his skepticism and weariness with my enthusiasm leaked out. He admitted to cynicism and we talked about whether cynicism has any place or value in the human experience. I say it doesn't.

So here I am today, confused - not just because of him, but because I know how I must appear to people who are listening to me with cynicism and indulgence.  I'm pretty sure I know what they're thinking - Sarah has adorably and predictability found something new to latch onto and they just need to wait me out until my feet have descended back to earth. Or perhaps they're worried I've been overcome with zeal and they've lost me to something scary and insidious. Either way, I'm alarming to them.

Where does that leave me? I no longer want to be pithy and disingenuous, clever at wordplay, edgy and sarcastic, beautifully packaging manipulation, offering insults wrapped up like compliments. The image I have so carefully tended means little to me these days. I don't care much if people think I'm brilliant or amazing or beautiful or intuitive. Really, really, really tired of putting that pretty face on every day - it's too much to carry around. So, here I am feeling happy and optimistic and full of possibilities - kind of like an unselfconscious, prebuscent kid but it's absolutely threatening to other people who prefer the clever me.

Just talked with Ashley - a gal I met at the seminar. We loved each other right away and she immediately identified my shtick - even after exchanging only a few sentences. Think she said, "You're one of those people who leave, aren't you?" Is it that obvious I pretend to be deep and caring and committed and totally invested in people while still having one eye on the door?  Can't remember what I said - probably sputtered something. One exercise we did, that you might want to try, is identifying what our "act" is when we're confronted/held accountable. Some people said they deflect conflict by getting angry and meeting the confrontation head on. Others said they use humor. I said, I take mastery of the discussion and turn the conversation to something easier. One gal said, she always says, with absolutely no conviction, "I'm sorry. I take full accountability," then insists the discussion come to a close. What do you do? Once you identify what your act is, you can let other people know that, when they witness you in action, they could yell out "Your Act!!" just like Bingo! Hoping when that happens you can both burst into laughter and get the discussion back on track without the disingenuity.

Later in the weekend I realized my act is, and always has been, this: "GO AWAY!!!!! (sometimes with insults, threats and force) and then when the person goes away, lamenting with tears, "EVERYONE LEAVES ME!."

So when Ashley said, "You're one of those people who leaves," it stunned me. On Tuesday night when I hugged her good-bye, I whispered in her ear, "I will never leave you.".........and I never will.  My sister, I think, figured this out about me years ago. I remember her saying once, "there will come a time when you will try to "X" me out of your life because that's what you do and I'm telling you now, I'm not going anywhere."

All for today. I had a hard time writing today. Integrating all of this into my current environment is going to be a challenge. The challenge for you is being honest with yourself and identifying your act - the cowardly way you act when you're put on the spot. Once you identify it, fess up to the people you love, and ask them to call you out on it when you pull out that trump card.

Peace,
Sarah

Picture is me

Would be Like Hating Your Leg/Ping-Pong Playing Sherpa

Wednesday, didn't write yesterday because my mind was too full and I couldn't center my thoughts. Coming off the high of last weekend's seminar and trying to find my land legs again. And how hard do you think it is to straddle the world of possibilities and the world of the mundane (bills, e-mails, dog food, etc)?? And yet that's it, right? Living large but tending to minutiae.

What's occupying my thoughts today is what do I do with this empty slate that's before me. What powerful choices am I going to make? There is so much to consider. By the third day of the seminar we were at a place of realization that, seeing ourselves as distinct separate beings in the universe, is an illusion - for most people the thought that we are are swirling in a cosmic soup where boundaries between objects are fluid and meaningless is really hard to grasp. But grasp we did and, once you get that concept, that, where my body ends and yours begins is fluid and irrelevant, you can't ever look at other beings as separate. By realizing that, you are me and I am you, it makes it all but impossible to see you as "other". It makes it impossible to objectify and dislike you. Would be like hating your leg.

One good thing from all this - I'm growing into my own skin and assuming the mantle of leadership. Thinking I'm the last person to realize that potential - never saw myself that way. Last night I got up and spoke in front of a few hundred people in a way that reached and inspired them. Afterwards, I was approached by many people who shared with me, that things I said resonated and helped them to "get" something. Landmark staff recognized the potential as well and I was asked to take a leadership track which I might consider.

In the meantime, I need to get authentic in my own life and infrastructure, need to make sure the foundation is sturdy. Great to think big and limitless but there are also challenges right in front of me from which I can't be distracted. Balancing all that with the fact that the future is my oyster - figuring out my next move. Once all my chickens are safely in their coop, do I:

• take the singing to a professional level and figure out how to own my own jazz club
• become a pastry chef
• do the international project management thing that friend Steve is encouraging me to consider
• go back to school in order to become a psychotherapist
• devote my hours to writing and become a professional author
• be a motivational leader/speaker
• make my raison d'etre raising awareness of the population crisis and being a change agent for zero population growth on Earth?

This morning I smiled to myself with the thought that maybe I can do it all! Can you imagine somehow incorporating all of the above?  Having a home base in Chicago - living upstairs from the jazz club I own that I've enlisted others to manage, being the sit-in singer and pastry chef, using the venue as a gentle bully pulpit for population awareness, travel worldwide as a high tech project manager but also as an ambassador for planet change, giving motivational speeches on what's possible for the humanity/planet problem we have. 

Challenge today is thinking about how this could relate to your life. If you sit down and list everything you think you could and would like to accomplish if there were no obstacles what would your list look like?Maybe what jazzes you is the thought of being a sherpa, a world class ping-pong player, water politics and visiting all fifty states. Or maybe you are a dancer with aspirations to write a book about orchids and you also have a burning desire to be on the school board. Whatever it is, it's a worthy exercise to consider that maybe you can do it all in some form or another.  

How fun is this?

Peace,

Sarah

PS.  Have you laughed today? Check this out - absolutely hysterical!! Laugh!!!!  It's not a video - just an audio link which you need to click on.

Reality, Merely an Illusion

It's Monday, and I'm recovering and glowing from an amazing weekend. Landmark Advanced Education which is the second course in the three course curriculum. And it's almost impossible to describe the course and how it is so transforming because it's experiential learning versus intellectual learning. As such, most of it doesn't translate well in description. Most participants find it very difficult to describe the education and most people, on the other side of that discussion find it difficult and confusing to hear about. Put simply, the Landmark Curriculum is the stuff of leadership and life mastery. One of their tag lines, "Live Powerfully and Live a Life You Love" is no joke - it's truly possible when you deconstruct yourself down to bare bones and share the experience with others. I still get cross about at how they market and package the education (sometimes it has a revival tent flavor) but it's worth getting past that to get the benefit.

So today, I am not the same person I was on Friday - don't think I can ever view the world and my place in it in the same way I always have. Wouldn't want to. I loved it when Randy, the leader said, "people are aching to be authentic." Isn't that the truth??!

Much of the forum was spent in creating distinctions between what is real and what are thoughts that live in language. It's an important concept if you want to be effective, because much of what drives our behavior is because we fail to distinguish  between what is real and what is not. I know, I'm getting cerebral here but really it's pretty basic. Most everything we do is in direct response to how events present themselves to us - there is little questioning - something happens, we barely filter it, we act. And, even when we do filter the event, our test of reality is often flawed. To elevate action it becomes necessary to have tools where you can recognize what's real from what's not, honor feelings but not be driven by them (be able to set them to the side) and create new possibilities and outcomes. The bad part about describing this to you in this way is that you can't get it intellectually - you have to learn it organically in the "soup" of the course, suspending belief and surrendering to the possibility that you've lived your life like you're in an unconscious pod (think that movie, The Matrix), driven by unreality.

And if you think these concepts are airy-fairy or cultish, then consider the words of Albert Einstein:"

"A human being is a part of the whole, called by us "Universe," a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. Nobody is able to achieve this completely, but the striving for such achievement is in itself a part of the liberation and a foundation for inner security.”

He also said:

 “Reality is merely an illusion, although a very persistent one.”

Laughing because at the beginning of this journey I told you all to come and rescue me - to do an intervention if I fell hook, line and sinker into the beliefs of Landmark. I'm wondering now why I even ventured into the first course if I was so convinced I would be altered in a negative way. What is it about us that makes us so fearful of looking at things in new and different ways? It can't be because the way things currently exist are so wonderful or we wouldn't be hopeful about something different, a new way of being. Maybe it's because we have a sense our brains are fragile and malleable and we are naturally protective about what we let in - guarding the mental portal, worried we will go mad if we know too much, resigned to a myopic view of the world but suspecting there is something else, a nagging feeling there is a discussion we should be part of, if we were braver.

I'm brave. My fellow students at the seminar were brave. We were all ripe to figure this out - how to live powerfully and live a life we could love. (Hint: you can't do it alone)

All for today. I've got some mountains to move and I'm full of thoughts and possibilities. You who know me, know I'm an independent, critical thinker. Those of you who don't, probably have a sense of it from this blog. I'll go out on a limb here and say, with passion, I hope for this transformation for each of you - that there is not one person in this world who wouldn't benefit from Landmark Education. It should be the "How To Thrive As a Human Being" user's manual that each of us are given when we enter this existence. Challenge today is giving thought to taking the courses.

Peace,
Sarah

Derek, the Texas Oilman/The Future Will Provide

Writing group last night and it was well attended - nine writers in good form and humor! Coming up on another Landmark marathon weekend, three full days from 10AM to about midnight, Friday-Sunday. I'm taking the advanced class that builds on the last seminar. Means I won't write tomorrow as usual, won't have time. Ha! And time management is a central theme of my life today. The old Sarah would try to fit it all into an impossible time slot and be late for everything!

Kay led the writing prompts last night and did a great job - the writing that came from her ideas was really compelling. My writing was odd, but that makes sense, given how odd and disjointed I feel many days. Didn't hate it though.  Here is the first piece that was written with the prompt of choosing one of five professions given (I chose psychiatrist - others chose dog walker or piano tuner, etc). And there was a sentence given that we had to weave into our piece as well.

"There were two of you?" he asked. 

"That's what she said - twins," I answered. 

"Fraternal or identical?" 

"Identical." 

"Where is she now - did she tell you?" 

"She doesn't know. I'm not even sure if she's alive." 

"Are you OK?" 

"No. Would you be if your mother had just dropped that bomb on you? My whole life has been a lie. I don't even know what's real anymore." 

"You're real," he said, lovingly and smiled that smile that always made me want to crawl up his arm and curl up in his warm heart." 

"Thanks." I returned his smile. 

The day was blustery - I almost cancelled our session, nervous to be out and about with sumo wrestling fronts battling it out in the clouds above. One would win. Either the cold front, that had rushed in from the north, would push the sweet Indian summer south, or the balmy breezes would hold their own, refusing to be usurped by the chilly bully. 

I glanced nervously out Kaveh's window that overlooked Lake Shore Drive and Lake Michigan. He probably thought I was thinking of my newly discovered twin sister. I knew he was searching my face for a clue to my true feelings. To help him along, I furrowed my brow and pursed my lips in a soulful expression, always the actress. I wondered if my twin shared that proclivity, the need for adulation and attention. I wondered if, like in a parallel universe, she too was sitting in her therapist's office - also looking out the window at waves splashing over the beach wall, covering a lakefront highway. It looked like the northern bully was winning the weather wrestling match. 

"What are you thinking about," he finally asked. 

"Whether any of this is real, " I answered teasingly, knowing the vaguness of my answer would set his mind to spinning. Sure enough, he leaned in.  I went on. "I mean, if we are all the stories we tell and then someone comes along and takes all your stories away, doesn't that mean you never existed? And Kaveh, I've never been sure I was real. When I was a kid, I was always surprised, when I looked into a mirror and there was me. Now there's this whole Higgs Bosun discovery and the thought there may be six or seven more dimentions. I'm pretty sure I really live in one of them - pretty sure this is all a figment of my imagination." 

You're real," he replied, dead serious. "So, am I. You're allowed to pinch me if you want." 

"Seriously?" I said surprised and delighted. "You've never let me touch you before!"

Weird, I know. The thing about conceiving, writing and finishing in just 15-20 minutes is that you don't have time to overthink your pieces. Half the time you don't even know where the writing is going - you just channel something from that creative, barely conscious part of your  brain. Many of us are surprised at the stuff that comes out.

The second piece was funny - think you might enjoy it more. Again the prompt was a bit complicated. Mine was a gold and black dress and a disaster.

When the invitation arrived in the mail, I had no idea who it was from. A black and white ball - white tie. As I removed the invite from the black velvet lined envelope tiny pieces of black and white confetti fell to the floor. 

I called Liza and James to see if they had gotten one too. No, it turned out, they hadn't. Did they know who it could be from? "No," they said, as curious as me. 

That night, as I lay awake, unable to sleep for all my curiosity, I heard a text beep. "Odd," I thought. "Who could be texting me at such a late hour?" 

"Did you get the invitation?" It was Derek - ugh - weirdo Derek who I'd never even met but who had been wooing me online for the better part of a year. I'm too nice, I know, always giving misfits a chance, probably leading them on, thinking I can help them by pointing out things they need to change, like loosing a picture of them nude on a burro, or the one with a big parrot perched on his head, a big splotch of parrot poop on his shoulder. 

Derek was one of my projects. his profile picture, taken in his bathroom mirror was so close up, it spotlighted the caps on his teeth and his copious nose hair. And the angle of the picture made him look like half his head was forehead and the rest of his face, a vanishing act with almost no chin at all. 

"Liza, it's Derek! The invite is from Derek!" I could hear her bathing her kids in the background. she always had several of them seemingly attached. 

The weirdo on the burro?" she asked. 

"No, that was Arnold. Derick is the one who calls himself a Texas oilman." When James heard that he guffawed and said, "Yeah right, hair oil, maybe." 

"Go and report back!" Liza was living vicariously, wishing for a black and white ball of her own. 

The next Saturday found me descending alternate black and whilte steps at the Ritz. I looked for my host - trying to pick Derek's face from the crowd of guests whose eyes were all focused on my descent down the stairs. I had been announced just like in an old movie.

And then he found me - I mean she found me. Dressed in a gorgeous black and gold dress, he broke free of his other guests. "Darlene," he/she gushed. "You are absolutely beautiful. I'm so pleased to finally meet you," He kissed me on the lips to the astonishment of his other guests. 

"Dereck?" I gasped. I'd recognize those nose hairs anywhere.

All for now. Got another monster list to do battle with. It's never ending, the things that need doing. Reminds me of a charming story I loved as a child with a starving family who was visited by a magic mouse who gave them a tiny tin of rice. They were touched and grateful even though there was only enough for each of them to have one small, mouse-sized serving. When they emptied the tin, the next day, it was full again and was forever full from that day hence. That story has haunted me - not sure why - the idea that there is always enough, even when things seem depleted. That the future will provide.

Anyway, my list is the list that keeps on giving - it will never obsolete itself!  No challenge today - just enjoy my pieces. I will "talk" with you again on Monday.

Peace,
Sarah

Blustery Day/Worried

Wednesday,writing group tonight. Last night, fun. Pitched the parody, All of Me, to the Women's Club and they thought it was hysterical (which it was), then Shay and I dinner at the restaurant Madeleine works at. Lovely.

Wow..summer's almost at an end. Most parents I talk to are bringing kids to college, or their little ones have started back to school. My Elizabeth starts her senior year with her student teaching the following year. Madeleine on the other hand is a lost soul, longs to be going to college like her friends but lacking something that would allow herself to choose that typical route to adulthood. I look at her and want to help - want to swoop in like I've done a thousand times in the past, in an effort to make everything OK. What do they say? Insanity is doing the same thing over and over, each time expecting a different outcome? Being uber mom, throwing money and resources at her problems, sitting her down for epic heart to heart talks, getting her medical help - all of it, pointless and ineffective. So here I sit, uneasy for her, seeing her flounder, feeling her young adult pain, watching her long for a different life, and I can't do anything to help except live my own life well and hope it is an inspiration to her. I guess. Dunno. Worried.

Today, I'm off my game - it's almost 11AM and not one thing on the list done. Power outage earlier which led to some network issues, no inspiration for this blog, despite reading some interesting articles in New Scientist that I thought to write about - the most interesting being about these super algorhythms that run much of our lives in the background. But the concepts would, I think, strain your brain (as they did mine), so instead, I'm going to reprint the funny Patrick Bakery piece that I wrote a year plus ago that I alluded to in a recent post. Thinking even the best columnists steal content from their past work from time to time.

So, we open the bakery and Liza says we name it “Patrick’s” – she has a sick and twisted sense of humor.   I guess it’s because of the whole dog naming thing - that naming critters and things “Patrick” seem funny and apropos to her, even though I'm supposed to be trying to forget him. 

So picture me in my bakery named “Patrick’s”, trying to stay busy, trying to be OK, productively going about the business of trying to forget him, humming happily to myself as I frost cupcakes.   A nice man comes in – he asks to speak with the owner, Patrick.  I am outraged.   I say, “Are you fucking kidding me?  Is this some kind of a joke?  He is confused.  “I don’t know what you mean, mam – could you please let Patrick know a customer would like to speak with him?”   He says that painful name a second time.  “Are you a fucking sadist sir?” I shriek.  “Why would you torment me by mentioning his name?”   He is even more confused – he insists he just wants to speak with the owner to give his compliments – he wants to talk with Patrick.   I can’t bear to hear him speak Patrick’s name over and over.  I berate the gentleman for his cruelty, his insensitivity, his utter lack of discretion.   With daggers in my eyes, I reach into the case of lovely confections and, one by one, start pelting him with cupcakes and blueberry muffins.   He is stunned and scared.  He bolts for the door but my aim is lethal – before he escapes, his lovely pinstripe suit is covered in blobs of pink and purple icing and blueberry stains.   My anger spent, I fall to the floor, despondent, and pick up the mess, heartsick at the mention of my love’s name and flabbergasted that anyone could be so obtuse and cruel. 

Then my employee, Pamela – she answers the phone as she always does, “Patrick’s – may I help you?”    “You too!”  I scream at the top of my lungs.  Like a ninja I spring from the floor ready to gut her with my offset spatula.   “Will there be no peace for me!   Why do you torment me so?   Why do you continually rub his name in my face!!!!”    Pamela backs away from me with terror in her eyes – like she’s just encountered a grizzly bear on a woodland path.   She says, in a deliberately sing-songy voice, meant to calm me, “I just answer the phone, Sarah. That's my job”   As she speaks, she deliberately and in cautious slow motion,  makes a backwards retreat in the direction of the kitchen, not letting me out of her sight.  At the last second she turns and runs but she too is the recipient of my fury - an orange chiffon cake smacks the back of her retreating head and slithers down her back leaving a frothy peachy trail.  Heartbroken, I slump to the floor again.  “Will there be no peace for me?” I sob, scooping up handfuls of chiffon cake from the floor and stuffing it into my mouth.  “What is wrong with everyone?   Have they all gone insane?”

I hope to write well tonight and I'll report in tomorrow. Challenge today could be giving some thought to days that are less than what you hoped for upon waking. There are those days where nothing goes as planned, days where all your well-intentioned plans just don't get executed. So what do you do? Try to stay the course or just surrender to the forces that that are working at cross currents to your own agenda?  To further my tree analogy from yesterday, there are days when, I'm thinking, we have to be willows and bend in acknowledgement to the prevailing winds. This is a blustery day.

Peace,
Sarah

Hardened But Not Hard

Tuesday...full day. Had a phone session with Kaveh this morning. Lots of client work to do, more work on the house and tonight pitching the parody song to the Women's Club for their spring show. It's also Shay's birthday so I'm taking him to dinner at the restaurant Madeleine works at (we get to watch her hostess). Thinking the other two girls might join us too. Everyone loves Shay and wants to honor his special day - he's 22 today.

Something I find befuddling. As you begin to care well for yourself, the list of "shoulds" just grows and grows - the things we need to do to be firing on all cylinders. Even just the self care items take a significant chunk out of the day. Here are some of the things I struggle to fit into the day.  Thinking your list is similar.

• Upon waking, stretching in bed (leg lifts and quad flexes).
• Make bed and tidy bedroom
• Most days, load of laundry.
• Dress and affix pedometer and ActiveLink (new WW monitor I've been wearing)
• Feeding animals
• Scraping cat box
• Healthy breakfast.
• Dishes from night before
• Vitamins
• Make list
• Physical therapy exercises (morning and evening)
• Blog
• 10,000 steps
• mail
• bills
• recycling
• trash
• work
• car wash
• dry cleaning
• water pic - daily
• flossing - daily
• bath
• salon  - weekly
• new vocal exercises - daily
• grocery shopping
• yard work
• and the beat goes on, and on and on

It's such a challenge to take care of yourself, your environment, your dependents, your clients, etc. Feeling breathless.

Today, teary talk with Kaveh. Plans to drive to Louisville on Sunday September 16th, sleep over and see him for a final, in-person session on Monday. But by the end of the call, he said, "we still have things to talk about". And he's the one who originally floated the idea of bringing the work to a close. I know what you're thinking - he's just trying to milk it. Not so..he doesn't need the money and he wants me launched.

We spent the majority of the hour talking about love and loss. I confessed my struggles - just yesterday I found myself within a mile or so of Patrick's house after a client meeting in Elmhurst. The meeting was good - new project. They're excited/I'm excited. So I was feeling positive and forward moving when I left the meeting and yet I still set the GPS to his address and within minutes I was sitting outside his little house, just taking it all in, feelings washing over me, wondering what I was doing to myself by feeding the flame. Didn't stay for long - didn't cry. Blew his house a kiss as I left and felt close to him. On the drive home, a few tears which makes driving on the expressway a bit dicey, but I shook it off and then, at the top of my lungs practiced the silly song I'm pitching tonight. I'm getting used to dueling forces in my brain - the love that won't die, the will that says, "live".

So that's the theme for today - the idea that we can live a crazy, funny, passionate, jam-packed life alongside pain and sorrow. Kaveh says growth always comes from adversity. When life is just ticking along, there's not much opportunity for transformation. But when life kicks you in the gut and your organs are spilling all over the street, it's do or die - you either curl up fetal or you find your own true grit and find a way to keep on going. The strongest people, he says, make something of the experience and find themselves richer for the whole ordeal. K. says I experienced something rare and wonderful - that real love is something that astounds him - it's uncommon. He's not encouraging that I'll ever find another person I will love as well. I have to accept that and treasure the gift. 

Challenge today is giving thought to Kaveh's words - that, when life brings you strife, it's an opportunity for growth. Important to recognize that many people don't do anything with the opportunity. I'm sure you know people who have been dealt a major blow and who never rally. I know people who seemed to weather a storm OK, but who, years later, seem beaten down and cynical. They were broken open by tragedy and like a badly set leg, the healing wasn't good - they were left a cripple. If you're suffering hardship, faced with adversity, finding it hard to find the goodness in life, how about this? Think to yourself that you WILL heal - in a year or two's time, you will still be here - time will have elapsed. Things will be different - you'll still be essentially you. But you will be different inside, your life will have been shaped from the adversity. What do you wish for your future self?

I like the image of trees. Imagine yourself as a good tree, solid, straight and true, branches reaching for the sun's goodness. Upon closer examination, there are scars in the trunk - maybe a missing limb that's healed over. But you're still a strong tree - your trunk is solid, your weight distributed well - you are a happy home to a host of chatting squirrels and birds. Contrast that with a tree who was struck by lightening. It grows but barely, much of it is hollowed out by opportunistic insects, the trunk is deformed and doesn't provide a solid foundation to the anemic limbs above. It can barely support itself, never mind animals friends. 

I know I will heal. There will be a time in my future that will feel very different. There will be more love. Visualization. When that future comes, I want to be the tree that stands taller and stronger - a tree that was tested and held up - hardened but not hard. A tree that people seek sanctuary under. I will carry my scars proudly but humbly as evidence of my strength. My arms will reach sturdily for the sun.

I'm grateful for the adversity. It is making me a better woman.

Peace,

Sarah

Keep the Ghosts at Bay/Moonrise Kingdom

Writing this early (Sunday evening) because I want to start tomorrow (Monday) with a bang. Meeting with a client at noon but before that a walk with my new and improved knees on the lakefront (wearing the pedometer again, finally) and I've got another monster list planned for tomorrow.

And these days hating the weekends despite the best laid plans. Friday, missing him. Saturday, missing him. Sunday wishing for Monday and hard work to distract my thoughts. And it wasn't all bad! The highlight of the weekend was James, Liza (Convex and Lucas) and me (Swaraj) at a 10:40 movie - and what a movie it was! Moonrise Kingdom, a Wes Anderson movie. Lucas, Convex and I were absolutely spellbound and today on the phone, in separate conversations, we reviewed our favorite parts, reminding each other of dialogue we especially liked. It's a phenomenal film and it's now in my top five favorite movies of all time.

Synopsis. A quirky simple film set on a fictitious island (filmed in gorgeous Rhode Island). A period piece set with precise detail in the mid-'60's. On the far end of the island lives an odd, dysfunctional family with a brooding twelve year old girl who spends a lot of time looking at the world through binoculars. On the nearer side of the island, a Boy Scout camp with a very serious leader (Edward Norton). Movie opens with one of the boys having gone AWOL. What transpires next is a prepubescent love story, a visual treat accompanied by an inspired soundtrack, language that is strangely sparse but oh, so real, and excitement that builds against the backdrop of an epic Nor'easter that threatens everyone on the island. It's one of those movies that leave you speechless and thinking for days.

And this weekend I worked on a parody song for the Women's Club springtime benefit. It's when the otherwise dignified women make silliness, changing lyrics to well-known songs. Liza suggested a parody on the song, All of Me, a song sung by a woman to her plastic surgeon. The idea was hers as is the best line of the song (the last one). Most of the rest is from my perverse imagination:

ALL OF ME

All of me, why not change all of me?

I’m so sad, so wrinkled, so in need of you

Plump my lips, I need to use them.

Trim my arms, need to reduce them.

Liposuck, boobs hard as hockey pucks,

Tummy tuck, I’m trying to change my luck.

Lift up my eyes,

Take pounds from my thighs,

Oh, please doc, change all of me!

            ***

All of me, time to nip all of me, 

All my skin injected with collagen,

Rhino plast, give me a smaller nose

At long last, a perfect profile pose

Freeze my brow, Give me the botox now

I don’t care if I ever smile again.

And don’t forget the mass

That’s my big old ass

Oh, please doc, change all of me!

Funny, eh? So like I said, the weekend wasn't a total bust - the movie was great and writing the song was fun. Glad though that it's over and I can get back to my productive routine. Keeps the ghosts at bay.

Challenge today is getting your jelly buns to that movie. Go!!!

Peace,

Sarah 

The Point Isn't to be Happy

Friday which scares me. Fridays nights are the toughest for me. Hard for other single people too, I think. Doing Schaller's with Judy and her husband Bernie. Will be predictable fun, a decent time - they're good company. It's when I get home that I tend to dissolve.

Trouble sleeping last night because my dreams were so energetic - that's rare for me, I'm an excellent sleeper. I bounded out of bed this morning on fire, ready to take the world by storm and Shay was the same way. He bounced into the kitchen, enticed by the smell of brewing coffee and declared that the day would be kick ass. We both felt like puppies this morning! I told him I had trouble sleeping and when he asked why, I responded, "I think I'm just too excited about life." Isn't that an odd thing to say? It wasn't premeditated so it must be true! He said, "Me, too!" as he whooped his way up the stairs to get ready for a day of painting and money-making.

This morning took Madeleine to Landmark - she wanted to do it too. Great one-on-one time with her in the car. In keeping with my new motto, "being on time is for losers!", we got there an hour early (I just didn't know what to expect traffic-wise). So we sat in the car and talked for an hour while she waited until the appointed hour. I'm hoping she gets as much out of it as I did. Lately I'm on fire, full of vitality, getting stuff done, feeling good.

And here's the weird thing. I have never felt sadder or happier in my life. If I told you everything is wonderful, that my heart isn't full of sorrow, that I have no worries, I'd be lying - you would know I was lying. Friends can see the sadness in my eyes. And yet, I've never felt more squared away even though there are still lots of loose ends in my life. Keeping promises to myself and others, self-care, being productive, loving friends and family, being creative - all of it, amazing and the stuff of deep satisfaction and happiness - that chewy chocolate center I talk about once in a while.

My sister quoted a well-known therapist who said, "The whole point isn't to be happy - it's to be happier." Isn't that an amazing thought? Think about it! If you're waiting for that future moment when you can declare yourself "happy" - give yourself some USDA purple stamp that says "Happy", what's the likelihood that moment will ever come? I don't think we're wired to be happy - there is just too much stuff swirling around in our brains - we may be too complex to be simply "happy". But happier? Yeah, that's do-able, absolutely. And if you can say to yourself, "You know what? I'm happier than I have been in a while," that's something to be happy about.

So, yeah, I'm happier than I've been in a while. Not happy, but happier. And I'm struck by the realization that sorrow and joy cohabitate so easily together. These days I still cry every day - every day has some very difficult moments, but the days are also filled with laughter, joy, contentment and inspiration.

Today Madeleine asked me how my love life is. I told her, "nonexistant". Recent guy I corresponded with told me that my requirements eliminated 95% of the men on the site. I didn't think I was being picky or unreasonable when I described what I'm looking for. Do you?  Here is an excerpt from my profile:

You should message me if you are smart, confident, comfortable in your skin, well-educated, affectionate, and cultured. So far I've met a lot of very nice people, but for one reason or another, not "the one". This dating thing is mysterious to me - people can look great on paper, put their best foot forward on the phone and yet it seems we might have over-developed radar - are we so jaded that we just look for a reason why it won't work? I've got to remember that the man I last fell in love with met few of what I thought my requirements were: not my physical type, religious (I'm not), came from blue collar roots. I would never have given him an audience on this site. 

Means I've got to dig deeper to try and decipher where the attraction really lies. If I've got a type it's a guy who does something really well and is passionate about it. And yet I don't want to play second fiddle to that passion - I expect he will make me a priority - somehow juggling his two passions. If he has a hobby I hope he does it well cuz I would hate to have to support someone who was self-delusional (could never date a bad singer!) Character is paramount - I fell out of any love I had for my first husband when he pocketed a $20 dollar bill that a grandmother sent her grandson in a birthday card that was mistakenly delivered to our house. He was a hot shot attorney but lacked character. And I dislike Eyore's - people who just don't seem to find the good in a day - there is almost something worthy about every day. 

Thinking my guy will be accomplished, relaxed but passionate, ready to commit, will love me hook line and sinker (as I will him), he will not sweat the small things (use his zoom out lens under pressure), he won't be lazy but not frantic either, he'll enjoy an evening in, reading or playing Scrabble as much as nights out in a club enjoying my singing. He will love his mother - will make family a priority. He'll be the best of friends - there for people who need him. He will take care of himself - doesn't have to have a Greek figure but he will honor the "temple" by eating well, exercising, no smoking or substance abuse, etc. He will be firing on all cylinders, professionally, socially, fiscally, physically and creatively. 

That's a tall order, I know. Explains why I've been on this site almost a year but haven't found him. In the meantime, I've been holding myself to the same standards - working on all of the above. I'm happy but it would be kick ass to have someone to share it with. And if you're the one, and you finally find me after after a lifetime of looking (and waiting), I might say something really romantic like, "What took you so long?"

Challenge today is thinking about the concept of being happier. Thinking it dovetails with my post yesterday about "next steps". If you are NOT feeling happier, and can't imagine how your life could turn around so dramatically so that you could go from miserable to happy (that's like one of those big daunting projects), how about the thought of just being a little happier and identifying what the next step is, to make that happen? It could be something like carving out one day a week for solitary fishing, time to be with your own thoughts. Or it could mean cleaning your house from top to bottom. Or, taking a cooking course or a class in beer brewing. It could even be something as small as getting a pedicure or going to a great movie. Make a steady diet of that "next step improvement" and maybe you will feel just a smidge happier.

Peace,
Sarah

Monkey Brain/Next Steps

Thursday, rainy again - rains are coming regularly now which is a good thing, but it does make for a gloomy day. Busy schedule today, physical therapy for my knee, waxing and eyebrows, and then a voice lesson with a new teacher at 2:30. Tucked on either side of those personal things is work - got two new projects to sink my teeth into.

It's really happening - the tidying of my life. Looking back six months or so and it all seemed so impossible - mountains to move. Just the thought of it was paralyzing. Moving out of the office, cleansing the house of 20+ years of accumulation, garage, basement, storage locker, yard, home improvements. It's all getting done, little by little, day by day. Not to mention the technology refresh - whiz bang network, backups that work, cloud storage of vital documents should there be a fire, photographs and movies digitized, nothing kept on paper, everything scanned. Goal is to have everything slimmed down and tidy, every kitchen cabinet organized, linens ironed and ready for the next feast, houseplants pruned and happy, animals up to date on shots, piano tuned, fireplace chimney-swept, nothing out of date in the medicine cabinet, woodwork oiled, windows sparkling. Lovely.

And speaking of slimming down, that's going well too - down 16+ pounds in recent months with no end in sight. Eating well is the number one focus these days - it's a sacred self care promise that can't be broken. Now that the knee is on the mend, going to resume the 10,000 steps - good timing for that, now that the heat wave has broken.

What's on my mind today besides congratulating myself on work well done, is the concept of living a life you love. I'm pretty convinced it's mostly hard work that gets you there - hard work, daily effort that's punctuated by flashes of fun and inspiration. Not long ago I talked about the book, Getting Things Done.  I've got it on my coffee table to reread and I'm thinking of taking one of their seminars - I want to get really good at "getting things done." Some of it "took" already - especially the concept of "next steps". Let me explain. Every day I make a list of things that need to be accomplished. In the old days, I might have put on the list an item such as "book project" but itemizing a task in that way is very unhelpful. It's a huge undertaking - lugging 1,000 books from the 3rd to the 2nd floor, sorting through them, getting book-sized boxes to pack them up, taping the boxes, getting the boxes to the library for donation.  "Book Project" encompasses all of those mini tasks. Other examples of things you might put on your list (in an unhelpful way) would be, "plan vacation", "clean garage", "Christmas baking".  I don't know about you, but having those items, written that way on my list, would be paralyzing - hard to tackle them.

If, on the other hand, you break the project down into steps - take a moment to think about what's involved in doing the book project - identifying the steps - then it's eminently do-able. On my list the first day was, "get book boxes".  I combined that errand with others and it only took about 15 minutes. Next day a new item on my list, "get boxes out of car trunk".  Next day, "look for packing tape". Next day, "Ask Shay to bring books downstairs" (got off easy on that one). Next day's list, "pack one box of books". And so forth. I will put "pack one box of books" on my daily list until the project is done. There is always time in a day to pack just one box of books. "Next steps".

Another concept from Getting Things Done that I love is the idea of grouping dissimilar tasks. You might have seven phone calls to make that are totally unrelated: a call to a client, returning a call to your kid, a dentist appointment, lunch with a friend, etc. Our minds tend to be project focused and it's not intuitive to sit down and crank out all seven calls, one right after each other, but if you get good at it, it's an incredibly efficient way of getting things done. Getting Things Done has you keep lists of activities by type. Maybe you're going to get your car washed and have to sit there for twenty minutes - if you have a list of all the calls you need to make, you could grab that on your way out the door and put that otherwise idle time to good use while you wait for your car to be done.

Challenge today could be getting the book Getting Things Done, or if not, thinking about the concept of "Next Steps" and how dicing and slicing your projects into mouthfuls might just get big projects done without undue effort. What I'm discovering is, there is a HUGE price to having our lives cluttered - the psychic toll is enormous. Recently my daughter asked me to read a book called Monkey Brain. Based on what she described, I'm expecting it to be a book about how our brains never shut up. I think we all suffer from monkey brain because we live in a world with so much stimuli and obligation. If your life is cluttered with "shoulds", if everywhere you look, a project mocks you, if every time you sit down with a cup of tea, guilt overwhelms you - you are monkey brained.

We should be able to sit in the beautiful environment we have created and nurtured and just be - thinking creative thoughts, enjoying the silence, planning something fun - guilt free.  Before that can happen though, the decks have to be cleared.

Peace,
Sarah

Why Japanese Kids are Smarter/Coromega

I am loving the magazine Psychology Today, thinking of subscribing. Just read about a dozen articles I could talk about here, but the one that struck me most was entitled "Eternal Curves" by Will Lassek and Steve Gaulin - well qualified writers on the subject, one being a former assistant surgeon general and the other an anthropology professor.

The intro caught my eye: "Men 'know' something significant about women's bodies that women don't. And it all has to do with nature's mandate to produce children with the greatest array of survival skills." Lots of research into the body types that fire men's brains and it's not what most women think. When presented with three body types: a supermodel, a playmate and an average US female, women were most drawn to the supermodel and assumed men would be too. The average supermodel is tall, weighs 115 lbs. with average measurements of 32,23,34 and a waist/hip ratio of .69. The average playmate weighs about the same but is four inches shorter with average measurements of 35,23,35 and full thighs and butts - a hip/waist ratio of .66. In contrast, the average US woman is shorter still (six inches shorter than the supermodel and a few inches shorter than the playmate) but weighs thirty pounds more with average measurements of 37,29,39 and a waist/hip ratio of .75.

Men are programmed at some deep primordial level to prefer curvy women  with a waist size that is 60 to 70% of their hip size (the playmate, not the supermodel as most women in the study predicted). "American males, it has been calculated, spend some $3B a year to gaze at women with hourglass figures, those whose small waists blossom into sinuously curvy hips." No surprise there! But wait, there's more. It's the REASON that's so interesting and it has to do with certain kinds of fat and the intelligence of our species. It also may explain why American women are, on average, twenty pounds heavier than they were twenty years ago and why there has been a decline in the intelligence of American children. Men, it seems, are doing their part in trying to preserve the intelligence of the species by preferring women with hourglass figures (survival of the fittest, more on that in a bit), but there's a problem when the average American woman's body is morphing into something that is evolutionary undesireable.

Human females carry seven times the fat of other animals. "Only bears ready to hibernate, penguins facing a sunless winter without food, or whales swimming in arctic waters have fat percentages that approach those in normal, healthy, trim young women." Seriously? A slim woman has a higher BMI than a hibernating bear? Who knew? Obvious question is, "Why?" The answer has to do with the needs of the enormous human brain which is actually mostly made of fat. But not just any type of fat - Omega-3 which only comes from external sources - the food we eat. In women, the Omega-3 fat is stored in the hips and butt - when a mother nurses, the Omega-3 is drawn from those stores. With each subsequent baby, those Omega-3 reserves are depleted with the first baby getting more than his fair share - may be the reason why the eldest child is often the smartest and why the baby of the family may be a ne'er do well.

In the last twenty years, the diet of the average American has been lacking in Omega-3 fat. Food politics and subsidies have skewed diets to include less Omega-3 fats and much more Omega-6 fats. Couple of reasons for that. Food shelf life is extended when Omega-3 fats are removed and replaced with more stable Omega-6 fats. "Most Omega-6 fat comes from chemically processed oils extracted from soybeans and corn." Another factor is the diets of the animals we're eating. Animals fed corn are also Omega-3 deprived (versus having them graze on grass which is high in Omega-3). Article goes on to say that both fats are needed in equal measure in our bodies and that historically we've consumed them in equal amounts. It's only in recent history that has become skewed - these days the average American consumes twenty-five times the amount of Omega-6 versus Omega-3 fat.

So what does this all mean? Most of us are Omega-3 deprived. American women grow fatter because they need to lay more fat on their bodies - because their fat is low in Omega-3, more fat is needed to nourish infant brains. It's their body's way of compensating. And yet, even with an extra twenty pounds, the Omega-3 stores are deficient to the job at hand - our kids are not as smart as, say, Japanese kids from mothers who may have fewer fat stores, but the fat they do have is super rich in Omega-3 because of their diets.

After reading this article, I'm going to go back to, what was once, a daily habit of taking Omega-3 fish oil. I was one of those people who couldn't take the pills - they went down easy enough but all through the day, I'd burp little burps that tasted disgustingly of fish oil - gross. Friend turned me onto a different kind of fish oil which is more expensive but doesn't have the same burp effect. It's called Coromega and it comes in little foil packets that you squeeze on a spoon. It's bright orange - looks and tastes like frosting (really - no fish taste at all!) and best of all it doesn't revisit you later.

Challenge today could be reading the article - here's the link (not the whole article, maybe you can subscribe or pick up a copy of the latest issue called Sixth Sense at your newsstand?), and then adding Omega-3 into your diet. We are all deficient in it, men too, and I suspect there are more stories about what the deficiency is doing to us.

Peace,
Sarah

Comedia Dell'arte/Honey Don't

Yesterday, the day that started so gloomy turned out fine - had to kick start it with the cozy fire and cooking squash. Sheer force of will - that fire just didn't want to start as if it were saying, "What the hell? It's August!" It died several times despite copious amounts of copy paper, newspaper, fatwood (do you know what that is? - it's little sticks of kindling from the deep South from trees that are naturally impregnated with oil - it just combusts - thinking they must not allow camping in fatwood forests!), pine cones, etc.  But start it did, finally, and it cheered me. Shay, who had left early at six, came home to a warm and inviting house, his job cancelled due to the rain.

He and I are settling into a nice way of being with each other. Just the right amount of talking and doing for each other without being suffocating. Recently, I introduced him to someone as "my Honey-do", and he grumbled and said, "Honey is fine. Lose the 'do'!" He is a very manly twenty-one year old who doesn't take shit from anyone - including me! Yesterday, he decided it was time for me to tackle the upstairs hall where there are long, bookshelves overflowing with stuff. With my approval, he carted down all the books for me to sort through, with the thought that I'll get rid of 9/10ths of them. Between he and I, we are making this house into a Zen home.

Today I'm thinking about how we have to see the happiness that's right in front of us with the people who populate our lives - the sometimes improbable cast of characters that we're sharing the stage with. And if we were omnipotent directors, pulling all the strings, we may not have cast our play with the troupe that's before us. So imagine that you're a director that's been called in after the casting's been decided - these people before you are what you have to work with. The mother you have, your siblings who infuriate, the father who  sucks happiness out of any room he walks into, the friends who are off-again, on-again, your children who fill you with pride but who don't see you as a person, coworkers, bosses, neighbors, even the animals. The cast.

So here you are in the middle of all this - trying to cobble together something good with what you have to work with. Time is wasting and there isn't any Lawrence Olivier in the wings who will swoop in and be the star of your show, eclipsing the dysfunction. What you've got is what you have to work with. Thinking there are two ways to go. You either throw up your hands and declare the situation impossible, have incessant complaints with the actors you've been sent, decide it's an impossible situation - that not even Mike Nichols could create a masterpiece with such a weird cast of characters - or - you could take a deep breath and decide to make something a la Comedia dell'Arte - something weird and absurd and touching and quirky and magical. Something worthy.

And what makes it all possible, I think, is perspective and determination. As the director and architect of your life, you have to have humor and distance enough to shape events in the most human ways - use that zoom out lens to experience the moment in a broader context, hover over the stage like an angel caregiver, maybe putting two antagonists in a situation that require they each surrender a bit to each other to gain greater understanding, maybe matchmaking two lovers who are a perfect match but who haven't yet discovered that fact. Yes, tinkering and orchestrating, maybe even manipulating but in the most well-intentioned way. Seeing the possibilities and nudging them into being.

And you don't get to be a bystander. You're not only the director but the star in your own play. For the magic to happen you have to come down from the director's chair, disrobe and stand naked in front of your co-actors.They will be stunned into silence, look to you for an explanation, be repelled but attracted. That moment is your opportunity to create something new. To say, "Let's try something different."  

Challenge today is thinking about what it means to be a leader (a director). If you find you are just one of the confused actors milling about the stage, looking for direction, sure the cast assembled is a motley crew of misfits, then your life will never make any sense, never take artistic form. If on the other hand, you find your own core, what you stand for, what you love - I'm thinking it will translate into a life magnum opus, that by being authentic, your "play" (your vision) will help to bring about the very best for everyone in your troupe.

These days, I'm taking a look around at the raw materials of my life, sometimes shaking my head bemusedly at the hand I've been dealt and then trying to figure out how I can architect something truly unique and wonderful from what's been given me - not pie in the sky or "if I only had...." - but the stuff and people who are right in front of me, flaws and all. Weird as it may be.

Peace.

Sarah

Make Hay When The Rains Come

Ha....Monday again. Life is just a series of Mondays! Think there's a book that needs writing, Monday Again. There would be a hamster on a treadmill on the cover as an analogy - the repetition and circling of our lives, sometimes with imperceptible forward movement. This weekend was terrific, fabulous! Laughing at myself right now - trying on for size being one of those people who just put on a big smiley face when asked how they are, and respond, "Wonderful!" regardless of what's going on. They must have read some motivational book  on positive mental attitude and are living the advice to fake it until you make it.

Truth is weekend was fine, not great but fine. Friday, singing at Schaller's - just me - not a hilarious way of spending a Friday night, but I got some good practice in, it was better than staying home alone, and the people there are nice. Saturday, dinner for Victor and his partner Con on my deck. I made a Mediterranean feast for them. Appetizer was an assortment from the Whole Foods olive bar, then zucchini fritters with homemade tzatziki sauce (I strained Greek yogurt in a chinois for six hours), the main course, grilled lamb patties (I had the butcher grind a leg of lamb) that were delicately seasoned, pita bread still warm from the Pita Inn market, an heirloom tomato from Whole Foods (special trip there for the perfect tomato), rice pilaf made with onions, pine nuts, tiny currants and allspice, a Greek salad with, what the man behind the counter assured me was their best feta out of the dozen varieties they had. Dessert was my lemon, white pepper, ginger cake with salted caramel ice cream (another special trip just for that that). All in all, five stores for the one meal that was deceptively simple. It was a perfect evening on my deck, twinkly Italian lights, temperature just below 70 degrees, the end-of-summer drone of cicadas. Perfect.

Yesterday more frenetic cooking - made 54 lemon squares for a benefit Carla and Alan had in their fabulous lakefront mansion - for the Chicago Cabaret Professionals of which I'm a member. It was a lovely, low key event - glad I went and glad to help out Carla.  That was the weekend. "Twas fine and I hope yours was too.

Oh, and the being on time initiative - failing miserably!!!! This is going to take more work than I thought! Seems it's a deeper embedded habit to try and cram too much activity into the hours preceding an event. This weekend found me exhorting a cake to cook faster so I could be on time to my voice lesson (couldn't leave until it came out of the oven), and then cutting it close once again and driving like a mad woman so that trucks were slamming on their breaks and blaring their horns at me as I cut them off in an effort to trim minutes. Or waiting until the last minute to make the lemon squares and then begging them to cool faster so I could powder them with sugar and still be on time to the party.  Hmmm...got to crack this "being on time" nut!

Today, I'm trying not to be dispirited. Woke to gloom and rain, a quiet house, wrote the huge list and trying to muster enthusiasm to take it on with the same vigor I've enjoyed in the past few weeks. There is something so daunting about Mondays and the week that looms - the life that looms. And then it occurred to me, as I was sitting with my coffee looking out to the drippiness of the day - it's not so hard to make hay when the sun shines, but how about when it rains? Do we put our lives on hold and wait for sunshine? What if it rained for the entire harvest season? Would there be no hay? I'm thinking the farmers would figure out a way to bring in the hay, even if it meant having to dry it in the barn with a crackling fire to dry the air. And maybe they would, at first, be annoyed at the added work but, if they were jolly people, thinking they might find a way to make it fun. Maybe they would roast marshmallows over the drying fire, make up new songs about making hay when the rains come, have some nookie with their sweeties in the newly dried hay before it was baled, and then, much later, look back nostalgically to the summer of wet when they were forced to make hay in the rain.

Today feels like fall. These days all feel like fall. So, if it's going to be fall, I'm going to do fall right. As soon as I finish this blog, I'm going to put a fire in my fireplace which is only feet away from my office and enjoy the woodsy smell and the crackling. (Weird, I know to build a fire in the summer, but who cares!) I've got a monster butternut squash in my kitchen that I will halve lengthwise, brush with olive oil and sprinkle with coarse salt, pepper, freshly grated nutmeg and garlic powder and then roast at 370 until it is fork tender. It will fill the house with a cozy, comforting smell.

Challenge today could be thinking about making hay when the rains come. We all have crosses to bear. We all suffer - it is the downside of being human. Thinking there is an art to Living Well, despite our suffering - that our lives are the hay - it still needs to be harvested regardless of the conditions. Alternative? Let it rot in the fields? No...not for you nor for me.

Peace,
Sarah

Wipe Off The Wet But Not The Kiss

When I was little, I idolized my eldest brother, David. Seven years older he was the closest thing I had to a good father - he loved and protected me and found me funny, smart and adorable. Hard for him when our father died. At 8 he became the man of the house, often babysitting for his four siblings, changing diapers, cleaning mouse traps. One day, he deliberately planted a disgusting, wet kiss on my cheek which I wasted no time in wiping off, annoyed. Feigning hurt, he said, "You just wiped off my kiss!!" I responded patiently, "I didn't wipe off your kiss, I just wiped off the wet."

And so it is with Landmark. The old Sarah would have told them to take a walk when they over-communicate, pontificate, become (in my opinion) too aggressive in pushing their agenda. They are folks on a mission and that mission is that the world would be a better place if everyone enrolled - world peace (seriously), solutions to hard problems, harmony and happiness for all with each individuals stepping up, getting in the game, taking action, being accountable, learning to listen.

I sucked it up and went to night two of the ten week seminar series that is included at no additional charge to the original three day seminar I took last month. It was OK, not great, but OK. The leader isn't particularly inspirational, but hey, it's not church. This is in contrast to the three day event led by a woman who had everyone sitting on the edge of their chairs - who presented the material in a much more accessible and believable way. So, this is what I'm thinking. There are times when you have to extract nuggets of goodness from something that may at times be hard to stomach. It was hard to get there last night, fight the weather, the Bears parking - I was tired. And yet, there I was and the work to be done needs to be done, regardless of the packaging. Session two was about creating the groundwork for being extraordinary in areas of your life where you are not. Identifying persistent complaints about people and situations and owning up to our role in perpetuating the problems, then listing all the areas where we are not fully self expressed - where we are ordinary (or worse) and then inventing possibilities for new ways of being in those areas.

My list was huge!!! I listed eight areas where I am inauthentic and ordinary. Arg! Now that I've owned up to that, the work begins!!! I'll talk about the eight areas in this blog because my guess is they may be your complaints too. First up?  BEING ON TIME. My partner in the class and I both share this problem. And I'm not a chronically late person - my friends probably would give me three or four stars for punctuality but that's not good enough. What they don't see is that I cut everything so close, waiting until the very last minute to get ready, driving in the car with hot rollers in my hair, doing my makeup at red lights, always five minutes late, breathless and apologetic. There is a price for that - stress, driving recklessly at times, not being as well put together as I could be, and of course, not honoring my commitment to be where I said I would be at the time I said. It's a lackluster performance at best. Partner and I agreed we could be extraordinary with punctuality - that we would not only be punctual, but that we will always be early. We coined a motivational phrase, "Being on Time is for Losers!" To accomplish the objective of always being early, we decided to allow for 50% more travel time with the thought that we can get to our destination relaxed, early, score a nice cup of coffee, be the person who is sitting there waiting calmly while others breeze in, breathless and apologetic.  So with that in mind, my alarm just went off - it's telling me to get upstairs and get ready for a lunch appointment I have - more later.

Lunch was good - old friend and business associate and it's so nice that these days, it's rarely just small talk. If you and I have lunch together I want to know what's really going on under the pretty exterior - what brings you joy, what brings you worry and pain. I love the wish in the book, Broken Open that I read last summer. The author says, "Wouldn't it be amazing if we could go to a cocktail party, meet someone new, shake their hand, look deeply into their eyes and say something like, 'Hi, I'm Sarah. I'm afraid of dying. Are you too?' " So, I'm not quite there yet, still have some normal social graces that hold me in good stead at parties, but more and more I'm thinking we should get passed those niceties as quickly as possible and bite into each other's chewy chocolate center where the real action is. Time is too short for worrying about whether people will think we're odd.

Challenge today could be taking on the Landmark challenge of thinking of areas in your life where you are less than extraordinary - areas you're not living with vitality and authenticity. Maybe then, ask yourself what are the stories you tell about your lackluster performance in these areas and what are your stories accomplishing for you. Finally, what is the cost of not tackling the work and finding a new way of being - loss of vitality, honesty, health, etc.? Then zoom out and declare a possibility for something different. Sounds easy? It's not. Hard to be a straight talker, especially in dialogue with yourself. The shit we tell each other and ourselves - some days we almost believe it.

Peace,
Sarah

Twisted Friends/A Bakery Called "Patricks"

Busy these days - the lists are never ending but it feels SOOOO good to get stuff done. Next big push is getting all my finances in order. Reconciling every online banking entry to QuickBooks, finding the items that slipped through the cracks like when you park at one of those pay boxes, or just stuff that got missed. One great project I'm embroiled in is family photos. Got a coupon for photobin.com to scan and put on CD 200 photos for $20ish. Ended up being more like $70 cuz I added stuff like rotation, higher resolution, and six home movies - but still a good deal, right? Got up bright and early and pulled out one of the old family albums with fading pictures that barely clung to decades-old paper and that crumbled when I handled it. Using my phone camera, I took a picture of each page and sent it to my e-mail so that, when I try and reconstruct the original album, I will remember what goes where. Felt good to pop all those photos out of their archaic little triangle sticky corners and throw the original, now decrepit book away. Fingers crossed the pictures are not lost in the mail on their way to or fro from being digitized.

I was surprised at the emotions that welled as I looked at some of the pictures. Some things (and people) are just best forgotten. I had to concentrate when I was e-mailing the pictures of Henry, my adoptive father. I found myself subconsciously trying to sabotage his pictures (oops, did I just erase you?). Thinking my little self was at work asking for a do-over, asking that the new albums not contain any images of him - rewrite the past. But the grown-up me, pushed through with the chore, and knows he should appear in the new digital photo albums. He is part of our family history, even if many of those chapters are very sad and scary.

Last night was writing group, and even though I'm a leader, I didn't go 'cuz it was my first Women's Club meeting. Not the Welfare Sewing committee which I signed up for, but an artistic night, pitching ideas for the benefit Cabaret review they do in the spring. Right up my alley, right? They couldn't have been more welcoming and delighted I was there. Felt special. The show is all about parodies - taking well known songs and changing the lyrics. And these regularly staid north-shore women can be a little naughty! One of the women sang a parody about mustaches with one very memorable lyric - "I want to ride your handlebars!"  Oh my and too funny! So today, thinking of songs that would lend themselves to parody. I regularly sing "Walk on By". Wouldn't it be funny to make that about dieting? While I sing that song with words slightly changed ("I just can't get over eating you."), there could be a parade of fast food walking in front of me - think people dressed as doughnuts, a huge slice of pizza, hamburgers, cake, etc. They could just keep on coming and coming, passing in front of me (exiting the stage and then running around the back to enter again from the other side). This could be so much fun!

Thoughts today are about being silly. If you know me, you know there are few people who can be as silly as me. If you don't know me, then you will be surprised by that statement because this blog is, on most days, very serious and determined. I AM a very serious, conscientious, determined person who takes responsibilities seriously. BUT, doesn't mean we can't have fun and be light hearted, right? That's why I love being with Liza. She can make a joke about anything (remember she and her mother laughing hilariously at Henry's deathbed?) Last night we went out after my Women's Club meeting and their Creative Writing. We schemed and chuckled over how she might infiltrate a family she is considering becoming a nanny for. Parents are control freaks (there will probably be nanny cams in every room). Dad is hot and successful. Liza plans on slowly poisoning the mother, becoming indispensable, making sure the kid loves her better than her own parents, and then, when the mother dies, being the crying shoulder for the sexy dad. End game - Liza moves in as the new mother, ditches her own husband and all her financial problems will be solved. We just got darker and darker with our sick senses of humor to the horror of James who looks on with worry when Liza and I get going - probably wondering how he ended up with such twisted friends. We laughed apo'plectically and unapologetically! And please know we really were just kidding - if Liza takes the job, she will be best of nannies and the mother need not fear for her life!

Over drinks (theirs - I had tea) I read them yesterday's blog about The Chicago Pastry School and Liza all but glowed. She blurted, "I knew it - I knew it was only a matter of time until we started our bakery together. We will call it Patrick's!!"  Remembering last summer - me, newly broken hearted, leaning on Liza hard for support, we walked along the lakefront and planned for the bakery and laughed ourselves silly with the thought of naming it after the person I needed most to forget. Went home and wrote a very funny piece about the bakery and the owner melting down each time a patron came in and uttered "the hateful name", unwittingly enraging the owner who cursed and pelted the insensitive offender with cupcakes. OK, you had to be there. Last night we relived that bittersweet memory of walking together last summer, me being so fragile, she being so funny and encouraging. Us laughing so hard we had to stop to catch our breath. A year has elapsed. Our lives are no easier and yet we still can laugh and laugh and laugh. So cathartic.

Challenge today is to think about silly. Pat wants me to go with her this weekend to see what sounds like a very silly movie - Magic Mike. Thinking it will be sophomoric and hysterical and that is just what I need. What about you? Are you getting enough hilarity in your life? How about an impromptu party with friends and dusting off the Twister? Or tickets to a comedy club? Or Great America? Or renting some Robin Williams? Thinking I'm going to plan a public "happening", something bizarre and really funny. More on this. Incubating. There will be press.

Peace,
Sarah

King of Pastry/Stuff Gushes

Something odd is happening to me - I'm learning to prefer my own company. Is it possible I'm becoming an introvert? Am I destined to be one of those crazy cat ladies, holed up in my house with my own thoughts and my little pussies to keep me company? Judy noticed it the other night - said she and Carmen thought I seemed sad, that I kept to myself and looked deep in thought. But really it was just that I had nothing to say, and being alone gets you out of the practice of talking. A couple of days I went out to sing in the evening and realized, when I opened my mouth, it was the first sound I'd made all day. So, Sarah=silent. You, who know what a Chatty Cathy I am, are laughing - you know this is just a phase, right?

And an alone evening last night with Scrabble and a NetFlix streamed documentary called Kings of Pastry. I was spellbound and even more so when the featured chef was located here in Chicago. From Wikipedia:

Un des Meilleurs Ouvriers de France is a craftsman competition in France, held every four years. 

The title of Un des Meilleurs Ouvriers de France (shortened to MOF) is a unique award in France according to category of trades in a contest between professionals. This contest is organized and recognized as a third-level degree by the French Ministry of Labour. The President of the French Republic is granted honorary membership with the title MOF honoris causa. The awarding of medals occurs at the Sorbonne, in Paris, during a large reunion followed by a ceremony at the Élysée in the presence of the President of the French Republic. 

This award for special abilities is unique in the world. Created in 1924, initially between the best workers of the era aged 23 and over, this contest was given the title of Un Des Meilleurs Ouvriers de France (One of the Best Craftsmen of France). Today, by the diversity of specialities, the list of which is regularly updated, the award has also been awarded to more modern trades and high technology fields. 

In this competition, the candidate is given a certain amount of time and basic materials not only to create a masterpiece, but to do so with a goal of approaching perfection. The chosen method, the organization, the act, the speed, the knowhow and the respect for the rules of the trade are verified by a jury just as much as is the final result. The winning candidates retain their title for life, with the indication of the specialty, the year following the one in which they obtain the title. This prestigious title is equally recognized by professionals and the greater public in France, particularly among artisan-merchants such as pastrymakers, hairdressers, butchers, jewelers, and others whose trades are recognized, particularly those for more luxurious goods. 

This competition requires months, sometimes years, of preparation. Technical skills, innovation, respect for traditions and other aspects are all practiced repeatedly to a level of refinement and excellence, effectiveness and quickness to succeed and be crowned by the jury, which makes its decision according to the distribution of points awarded during the entire process.

The featured Chicago chef - the focus of the documentary, teaches along with his partner who is a M.O.F. at a cooking school over by the Sears Tower (I'll never call it Willis). Called simply, The French Pastry Cooking School, I believe it is the only school in the world devoted exclusively to French pastry making. When the credits wrapped, I found their website - I was intrigued and interested in attending classes. I'd like to take my baking to a more stratospheric level. It's already great - friends swoon over my Better Than Sex chocolate cake, Lemon White Pepper Ginger Cake, and more recently developed, what I like to brag is the perfect carrot cake (OK, Sarah is not long on humility when it comes to kitchen skills). But my cakes are simple and unadorned. Wouldn't it be wonderful if they were also a feast for the eyes? Castles of spun sugar, cakes with thirty tiny layers covered in butterflies? And how cool would it be to be able to whip out a batch of perfect, warm croissants with warm and toothsome interiors and an outside that shatters when you bite into it? Not to mention, tiny little tarts and macarons filled with silky exoticness.

One year I decided to make a croquembouche which is a huge tower of cream puffs held together with spun, caramelized sugar. Elizabeth looked at the picture and said, "Bet you $5 yours won't come out like this." I took the bet and won - 'twas perfect. The challenge in all of this is not eating what you make if you're a WW like me - I remember I didn't eat even one of the cream puffs but enjoyed them vicariously as others ate.

So, yeah. I'm going to add to the big bucket list, pastry making, and figure out a way to make that come true. The tuition for a 24 week course at The French Pastry School is over $20K so that's out of the question but remember there is always an Option C. Option A is to pay the $20K. Option B is to not go. Option C could be calling them and asking them if they have auditing students. If not, maybe there are private classes one could take as one-offs, or starving students who teach on the side. Will=Way.

Today I'm toying with the idea of what I would like to be when I grow up. Is is possible, once our kids are grown, to actually do something for a living that we adore? Can you imagine bouncing out of bed in the morning, impatient to get through breakfast and your morning routine so you can get to work? Some people actually do feel that excited about their jobs. Imagine that!

Challenge today is thinking about your job and whether it fills or drains you. If the answer is "drain", then find a quiet moment with no distractions and think deeply about what it is that you could do that you would love and potentially excel at. I'm thinking that ditching everything and being a pastry chef might just be the ticket. Maybe. That, or becoming a psychotherapist. Or, owning a bed and breakfast. Or, having a jazz club. Or, being a journalist. Or.....  Once you open this train of thought, stuff gushes.

Peace,
Sarah

So the picture! Made of chocolate and sugar! NOT, real flowers! Amazing, yes?