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

Tiny Technology Lover/Lemmings Don't March to the Sea - You Shouldn't Either

Wednesday and tonight is the writing group - I'm leading the prompts. And since everything I do is coming under scrutiny (keep or throw), this morning I gave thought to whether the writing group is something to keep - is it old? Does it still fulfill its mission of incubating creativity? Answer is yes - it continues to delight and the stuff that bubbles up in that back room at Panera is often pure genius and inspiration. Sometimes we frigging amaze ourselves - sometimes the writing is jaw-droppingly good. There is a LOT of talent there, and fun. Hoping to write well tonight - if so I'll share with you tomorrow. Feeling dark these days so it may be a good outlet for those sinister feelings - you can probably count on something love lost with dead babies sprinkled in for good measure. One of the prompts I'm throwing down tonight is titles of nursery rhymes, i.e. Jack and Jill went up the hill (to the still?) or Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep (they escaped the abattoir?), Wee Willie Winkie (I've been with a few men with wee willie winkies)! I Love Little Pussy (OK, even you know what could be done with that one!)

The good thing about having a really bad day is that you get to wake up and start all over - like rebooting a computer. Yesterday was a self indulgent, pitiful day. Only bright spot, Carla came and picked me up in her miniature red car with the roof down. We tooled around Evanston checking out caterers for a benefit party she's throwing. Fun to be with her - she is so dynamic and forward moving. No self pity that one even though there is sorrow in her life. The evening found me alone and feeling sorry for myself, eating carbs and watching mindless television on the computer. Haven't watched TV in years and there are shows I used to like - The Office for one. Did you know Pam and Jim got married? I know you're laughing cuz I'm sooooo out of the popular culture. Anyway, the whole TV thing - not good for me - it's that whole LCD (lowest common denominator) thing I talked about yesterday. If I had any doubts, wallowing in it last night confirmed it is NOT my path.

Today I want to talk about something I continue to be worried about - and I know I've harped on this, but the issue is not going anywhere - in fact it's getting worse. When I was at the 11 Divas show the other night, Alan and I noticed with amazement, as the lights were dimmed, how many people were on their cell phones. We had a bird's eye view of the entire auditorium and there were no less than 100 phones lit up. Granted, some folks might have been turning them to off or silent, but I don't think that was the majority. This is a phenomenon and not a good one, in my opinion. There have been evenings when James, Liza and I will sit in my living room and for a period of time, we will be engrossed in our respective phones, maybe playing a game of Scrabble, maybe reading e-mails, texting, whatever. When I'm with Victor, he is always on the pulse of his phone - Pavlovian really, and when I'm on the phone with him, he is on his computer - I am no more than background "music".

Thinking our brains are being tampered with. It's really alarming when you step back and assess what's going on. How many people do you know who aren't glued to the ringing, chiming, chirping of their phones? We all are! How did this happen and should we do something about it? And I'm not saying we should be Luddites and eschew the technology completely. I love the convenience of having a phone I can Google an address on if I'm lost, or texting someone when I've arrived at their house. My friend Carol doesn't have a cell phone. It's a pain in the neck not having easy access to her and yet, wow, I admire her decision so much. I'm thinking she doesn't feel any loss in not being tethered to a device. So, as we viewed the hundreds of lit screens at the concert, Alan and I marveled at it - we could have been among that group if we chose, but instead, we did something really novel - we talked. We agreed that, just because the technology exists, doesn't mean we have to use it or let it rule our lives. And if that phrase seems strong, "rule our lives" - it's really the truth. If you are a person who drops everything when the phone makes a peep, stops a thought mid sentence to answer a text, sneaks a peak at e-mail when there is a lull in conversation, then you are letting your life be ruled by the technology.

What do you think of the idea of laying down some rules as to the appropriate use of this technology? - Cell Phone Do's and Dont's to Live By? Something Emily Post would approve of if she were alive. If this were more of an interactive forum, I'd ask you to submit your ideas (very few people add comments to my postings), but in the absence of that, I'll take a stab at it. Here goes:

• If you're out and with friends or family, let phone calls go to voice mail unless you are expecting an urgent call. Return the calls later when you're alone.
• Only use texting for administrative types of communication like, "I'm here", or "On my way". Again, if you're with someone, don't glance at your texts as they come in. You are not a Pavlovian dog - you won't be electrically shocked if you don't jump to the command of the tone.
• Don't use your cell phone for any purpose other than phone calls or administrative texts. Exception is occasionally checking your e-mail, operative word being "occasionally" - maybe once in an evening.  Another exception could be using the Internet feature to check an address or store hours when you're out and about. 
• When you have guests over, ask them to leave their cell phones on the front hall table, have them check their devices just as cowboys used to check their guns at the saloon door. If your guests need to check on a kid or a business deal, they can excuse themselves periodically to check their phone. I'm going to put a sign on my front door that says something like, "Leave Your Cell Phone on the Front Hall Table."

What do you think? Is this draconian? Sure is a departure from the trend, right? But think of your relationship with your smart phone - can you honestly say it's healthy and appropriate? My guess is that you, like most people, originally became enamored of the technology (it's really cool) and what was, at first, wonder and awe has turned into slavish dependence - losing a piece of your mind to the device. It has become a demanding and dysfunctional lover of sorts. If you think I'm wrong, then prove it! Try for one week (or even just one day) to institute the cell phone guidelines above and see if you don't experience anxiety, as if you're withdrawing from a controlled substance! I'm thinking you will be at loose ends, irritable, cursing Sarah, saying "this is stupid", feeling like you've lost a friend, not able to follow through and by the end of the day, your cell phone will be purring away right by your side, reunited again. But you will know I'm right - that something is really fucked up, that you have become dependent on an inanimate lover. And you will justify your addiction when you look around and see you are in good company - if everyone has a tiny electronic lover, why shouldn't you too? It's only fair!

Then there are people like Carol who do a better job at guarding her portal - just because something is a trend, doesn't mean it passes muster with her. Unlike most of us, she actually thinks for herself. If it's the norm to buy a new car every five years, Carol says, "Why?" and nurses hers along for 20 years, not caring a fig what anything thinks of her. Despite her comfortable income, she buys her clothing at resale shops and decorates her house from yard sales. And yet, she'll spend a lot of money on the best theater tickets and pick up the tab for ten acquaintances at dinner. Love that about her! She cleaves to her own values of value and isn't a lemming. (actually that's a bad comparison cuz I learned that lemmings really don't walk en masse into the sea - they're not that stupid.) How's this instead? She's not a sheep like the rest of us.

Sheep.That's what we are when it comes to technology and other marketing initiatives. Someone, somewhere, somehow dictated a need - something like huge amounts of corn in our diets, or daily lattes (did you even know what a latte was until 20 years ago?) or smart phones, and we just rolled over and fell in line - marched to the drumbeat. Free will down the drain.  

Challenge today is accepting Sarah's challenge to become technology militant - be an awake consumer of the stuff - make your own Do's and Don't list based on your own needs, the person you want to be (or not be) and then walk the walk. And take it a step further and demand from your friends good cell phone manners when you're with them - unless we call people out on how rude and fucked up it is to be glued to devices when they're sitting across from us, people will continue to be thoughtless, mindless rude consumers of a technology that didn't even exist until a few years ago. Sheep=Us, I fear.

Peace,

Sarah

Singing Acapulco/Sacred Routines

Today it's Tuesday and I'm just flailing around for direction. Got up good and early to get a jump on the day and be productive but I'm frittering it away with inertia, uncertainty and this icky, itchy feeling of discontent and unease. Did you notice that every adjective I just listed started with a vowel - whatever that means? So writing today is a challenge because I want to be relevant and I'm not sure I am. That's actually something Mike said the other day when he came for breakfast. We talked about life goals - he's a man of simple words. He said, "I want to be relevant" and that was all he had to say as I babbled on and on about my multitude of agendas, trying to be dazzling but probably just boring the pants off of him. Wait, his pants stayed on! - wrong expression. How about, boring him to tears or boring him to want to leave and purchase a gas grill for his deck! That's when you know you're not fascinating - when someone chooses to leave your company to buy a gas grill. Can you tell I'm still smarting from that rejection? Men are so weird. I just don't understand them most of the time.

Last night a stupid evening at Petterino's - sparsely attended, sang badly, not many singers and there was awkwardness because Denise singled out several singers to perform a second number, dissing the rest of us. And really, that whole scene is getting old to me. Last night I heard her tell the same joke about the late Mayor Daley saying he was going to sing a song "Acapulco" instead of  "a cappella", listened for the 50th time to her tell the story about how her piano teacher encouraged her to sing instead of play (apparently she was a terrible piano student), witness her theatrics as she sang the world's shortest birthday song that I've heard her sing almost every week (there is usually someone in the audience celebrating a birthday). Goes like this: "This is your birthday song. It isn't very long." That's it - the whole song. Funny, right? Maybe the first or second time.

And I know I've harped on our need for novelty in our lives but I sure haven't walked the walk. I'm getting further in a rut with the things I do over and over again, week after week, with less and less pleasure. I'm not alone, right? My ex babysat for an old man who woke every morning at 6AM and had coffee with the same friends for forty years. Thinking there came a point where they didn't even like each other that much anymore, found the whole thing annoying and yet it was their sacred routine.

Should there be sacred routines? You think I'm going to say no, right? Surprised you. I vote, "yes".  There ARE things we do, day in and day out, that ground us to life. Imagine you had absolutely no routines. You woke at a different time every day, ate if you happened to have food in the frig, had no rules for self care, didn't observe your friend's milestones, etc. Your life would be anarchy! We NEED routine to make sense of every day. Each day I ground myself to the day with little rituals that remind me what's important - kind of like the blue thread in a Jewish prayer shawl that's there to remind the congregant to remember and obey the commandments (I'm not Jewish but I admire the the religion). My observances are secular - pouring an exact 1/3 c. of milk into a measuring cup and then adding it to my coffee. Totally unnecessary - by now, I know exactly, from the color of the coffee, what 1/3 c. of milk looks like - I don't really need to measure it but there is something about the action that starts the day with Weight Watcher awareness and respect and sets the tone for the rest of the day to eat in a careful and compliant way. Making my bed every day, feeding my animals before I feed myself, writing this blog - it all creates a rhythmic framework to the day that is comforting and supportive. Love this from a website called Blessing Maven (picture today is also from her site).

Allowing simple, small shifts in perception, practicing self love and knowing we’re all divine and energetically connected is key in creating a sacred day.  I find this to be a powerful antidote against not just going through the motions, not just checking off the “to do” list and not having unimaginative habits to infect our day.

I suspect it's the other routines we do out of habit, fear of the unknown, complacence, just being nice, etc. that we should question. Another thing Mike said that resonated - that spending time with people who don't enrich you in some deep way - it's a lost opportunity - the opportunity cost of time spent doing or being with someone anemic that precludes finding someone else or other things to do that enrich the blood (to further the anemic analogy).  I love what the Buddhist daily dharma had to say yesterday:

Hang out with people who are capable of making a commitment to you and your life, and who require that you make a commitment to theirs. Hang out with people who care about you, with people who need you to develop and who say so. Make such a commitment and don't break that bond until you and all beings are perfect.

Well, not so sure about the perfect part, but the idea that we need to be selective and, as my mother said repeatedly when I was growing up, "not throw our pearls to swine." Thinking the difficult part is the whole lowest common denominator thing. Boredom and loneliness drive us to do things and be with people who lack luster but who fill the time. One thing I give my mother credit for is that we didn't have a television growing up. What I observe in retrospect is that things can get ugly when you have a bunch of petulant bored kids. "We're so bored. There's nothing to DOOOOOO."  I remember throwing myself on couches with drama and swearing I would die of boredom. My siblings agreed - we flopped around like beached fish. And we would stay that way for a while - listlessly complaining. Then something would happen. We could only stay that way for so long. Eventually we breached the divide and came out the other end productive and happily occupied. We dragged our asses outside, or got out art supplies and made something - or played a game, or went to the library and got a stack of books, or biked to the beach. It was only the void of no TV that made the good stuff possible. If the TV had been available, we would have sunk to the lowest common denominator of that activity, watched other people living instead of living ourselves.

I need to crack this nut - I know I lead an interesting life, full of good friends, creativity, culture, and yet I'm falling into the rut of repetition. Not going to throw my babies out with bathwater (love my friends, talents, much of my life) but it's time to mix things up. Need the right balance between healthful sacred routines and taking risks - trying new things.

Challenge today is assessing your life in this vein - do you strike the right balance between routine and risk?  If you're Martin, you just yesterday bought your very first home. It's a seismic decision for him - his personal tectonic plates are colliding with excitement and fear (his bank accounts emptied to take this risk). If you're Josh, you are embarking on a brand new life, sans partner, dating again for the first time in 15 years and looking for a job. If you're Tom, your divorce just came through yesterday and that chapter of your life is behind you - time to write the next one. If you're Mike, you just moved to a new house in a friendly new town and maybe this positive change will beget other positive changes - domino effect. If you're Sarah, you closed your office, downsized, have taken on a Herculean task of ridding your life of clutter and you are deliberately creating an uncomfortable void with the hope that it will make a space for things new and wonderful. All these scary things take us out of our comfort zones, but I believe comfort and the non-sacred routines can be their own scary slippery slope - life numbing, life robbing.

Peace,
Sarah

11 Divas/Digital Strategies?

Happy Monday. Sitting in my new wonderful office that's streamline, beautiful, natural light, high tech, having undergone a technology refresh. Everything is backed up locally as well as to the cloud so I don't have the nagging feeling that, if my computer crashed, my life would be lost (I was never comfortable with how things were or weren't backed up at the office). And it's funny to think that your life would be lost without all the data you've stored on the computer, but really it's true, right? All my creative writing, every single document that was scanned and was shredded, archives of important e-mails, correspondence with loved ones -  it's all there in this one little device!

Recently, as part of the big purge, I distilled all our memorabilia down into one breadbox sized box (funny to say breadbox - when was the last time you actually saw one? - does anyone under the age of forty even know what a breadbox is?)  I bought one container for each of the girls and me and then went through cartons of stuff and decided what should be kept and tossed. My box labeled "Sarah 1956 through 2012" contains my very first doll (I DID find her after all - a Tiny Tears with a permed head that I remember washing over and over again. I was little - had to stand on a stool to reach the faucets), love letters from George (of the wine cave George - see previous post), precious letters from from the girls - stuff like that. Curiously it contains nothing from either of my husbands - there was nothing to keep - no love letters or sweet notes. One exception some limericks from my first husband Bill about my struggle to lose weight - they were humiliating - kept them to remind me why I left him. And separately, there are boxes and boxes of pictures but here's the weird thing - they all stop once cameras went digital. And since that time, I have owned lots of computers that have all been trashed along with the pictures that were stored on their hard drives. Somehow in the digital transition, I stopped taking pictures and the ones I took have been lost. Am I alone in that? Am I the only one who failed to have a good digital picture strategy? Thinking you all made the switch seamlessly. You got good digital cameras, all your pics are up on the web in Picassa or something, and when you like a picture, you send away for a hard copy and put it in an old fashioned photo album for posterity. Or are photo albums falling the way of the dinosaur? Worried about this.

So, the weekend - it was what it was. Friday, EVERY single one of my friends ended up bailing on Schaller's for totally understandable last minute reasons, so Shay and I went to the piano bar at Maggiano's and had a bit of fun. I can tell, the gang there are pretty convinced I've taken a 21 year old lover, and I'm doing nothing to disabuse them of the notion - it's hysterical. Does mean though that I don't get approached by men my own age - they think I'm taken! And my date on Saturday never materialized. Thomas, the academic who went dark on me for a month and then resurfaced - dark again - something's not right there. No third chances for that one!

Then Sunday morning breakfast with Mike - he's another fellow I'd spoken with at length who disappeared for mysterious reasons. He called me Saturday after I dropped off a "Welcome to Evanston" card and plant at his new condo (I was persisting in the friendship even though he was ignoring me). We agreed to finally meet and he came to the house. Result? Disappointing I think. And it's dumb because we really should be Evanston friends - we have so much in common. We agreed from the get go that, if the romantic spark wasn't there, we wouldn't throw the baby of friendship out with the bathwater - we would revise our expectations. I meant it - not sure he did. He's interesting, non conventional, really smart, unexpected in his opinions - he cares about stuff that counts - all of it good. And first meetings - they're tricky - we don't always shine. I remember Patrick talked incessantly on our first date, tale after tale about his derring-do adventures, so much that I kissed him just to get him to shut up. Red flags all over the place but I gave him a second chance, hoping he'd settle down. He did and conversation from that point was dialogue versus soliloquy. Anyway, I kind of feel for Mike - single for 15 years, seems like the single experience has jaded him and made him cynical. I didn't feel that he approached the meeting of someone new with awe and wonder and no expectations - instead it felt like there was a giant check list that he was marking off - one that I was failing miserably. But good for me that, when he left, I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Oh, well. He didn't like me. Someone else will!." And I really meant it!  Four years of therapy, having Patrick fall in love with me - I know I'm lovable for the right person. It's just a matter of finding him. But really Mike and I should be friends.

Last night, Carla, Alan and a friend of theirs and I went to the DuSable museum in Hyde Park to see a wonderful concert - The 11 Divas. Eleven wonderful black women each sang two songs - it was an extravaganza! So much fun! We were about the only white people there. One thing so interesting was how under-dressed we were. Carla pointed out to me how well black people dress for occasions and she's right! It mattered not the age or size of the woman - they were all fabulous and tasteful. Nothing wash and wear, gorgeous fabrics that required dry cleaning or ironing, crisp and perfect, bold matching accessories, coiffed hair, hats, glittery shoes. And the men, dapper and crisp in linen suits and white shoes - hats too. In contrast, there was me in my simple knit dress that's gone through the wash 100 times and a pair of flat sandals. I'm going to take a lesson from their book and pay more attention to my appearance - thinking I can do better than just always grab for what is comfortable.

No deep thoughts today. Just working hard on keeping the container intact. The leg is healing but I'm still limping from the fall. Diet is great - lost another .6 pounds (a little over 1/2 pound) when I went to WW on Saturday. No more martinis - been drinking diet coke when I go out which is a rare treat since I don't keep the stuff in the house (don't approve of fake sugars), and the house is shaping up. This week, even more organization. Working on house=Zen which will result in Sarah=Zen.

Challenge today is assessing your own container - are you caring for yourself on all fronts? Healthy meals, enough sleep, exercise, flossing your teeth, vitamins, no substance abuse, clutter, infrastructure (does your car need to go in for a tune up?), meaningful soul connections with dear ones, not squandering time on your electronic devices? It's Monday - maybe it's time for a mini goal. Let's pick one thing to do this week that will give you great satisfaction. It could be taking on something yucky that's been gnawing at you like filing divorce papers (friend of mine has identified that as his mini goal for the week - not so mini, right??), or it could be something really fun like going to the farmer's market and buying buckets of sour cherries and making preserves. Whatever it is, it should give you deep satisfaction. Great challenge, right? OK, Sarah will walk the walk. This week I promise myself I'll find some flowers to plant in my window boxes - even though the pickings are slim, I should be able to get some.  I'll get my watering can collection from the basement and arrange them on my deck. This spring I was too sad to beautify my surroundings - it was a statement of sorts to everyone that I was feeling barren within and without. Still sad but life has to move on and beauty around us is important.

Peace,
Sarah

Higgs Bosun/Holy Fuck, I just Destroyed the Solar System - Oops!

Friday and another scary weekend. I've GOT to do something about ensuring the weekends are full of novelty and meaning and NOT loneliness. Just because Fridays and Saturdays are traditional "be with your sweetie" days and I don't have a sweetie doesn't mean they have to suck. Seriously, Sarah, you're a person who is hired to solve problems - you can't crack the nut on this one? You live in one of the greatest cities in the world with people all around you - there is absolutely no excuse for being home alone playing Words With Friends on ANY night of the week (yes, I'm an addict - I tried to eschew the game - removed it several times from the phone only to reinstall it when my mind got agitated - it calms me). I know, rationalization - feeling the need to remove it again. Soon, but not today, maybe not tomorrow.

Tonight Schaller's again - Robin and entourage to come but everyone else who planned to go developed last minute conflicts. That's OK. Quality time with Robin and Jon will be more than enough - that and singing well. Lately I'm working up two songs: Always Something There To Remind Me and My Romance. The first is a kick in the gut kind of song even though it's Burt Bacharach bouncy - makes me think of Patrick. And yeah, that's a dead horse that I keep taking the pulse of, lifting its eyelids just to check for life. Lately been texting him with no response whatsoever - he's SO done with me. I get it and yet Sarah just doesn't take no for an answer - ever. It's what makes me get my man in business - what allows me to visualize a project and take it home despite any obstacle. It doesn't work so well in love. Yesterday for the first time, anger - "Fuck you, I hate you" texts - totally off base and inappropriate. Thinking like a little kid - I'll take any attention at this point, even negative attention. The man has a temper - maybe I can piss him off enough so he'll respond in anger. At this point his anger would be a relief - there is nothing so dead as apathy and indifference.

What's exciting me lately is the discovery of the Higgs Bosen particle. I've been following this story for a very long time. Are you aware of the significance? Do you know there are two large hadron colliders in the world - one in Geneva and the other right in our own backyard? Do you even know what a large hadron collider is, why it was built, how big it is, and what some people fear are the dangers of the technology? If not, you're in for a treat cuz this story is epic and it's taking place right under our noses, in our lifetime.

Back in the '60's a British physicist Peter Higgs theorized an explanation of the universe that became known as The Standard Model. At the center of the theory was his contention that there were subatomic particles - smaller than atoms (that's what subatomic means!) that explain how the universe was created. Without these particles, there would be no mass - just light - without mass there is no matter. But the particle had never been seen or captured - just existed in scientist's minds. To capture it would require an enormous engineering feat - a device so big, protons could traverse it at enormous speeds and made to collide into each other. When the deliberate collisions occurred, it would reveal or release or capture the tiny subatomic particles which were dubbed Higgs boson particles.

Two devices were constructed at enormous cost - one in Geneva (CERN) and the other in Illinois - Fermilabs (Batavia/Warrenville area). The Illinois device was shut down in recent years because the Swiss collider had more promise - was more powerful. Here are some fun facts about the Swiss collider:

• It is the largest machine in the world - about 27km - it's so big it crosses the border between Switzerland and France
• It is the fastest racetrack on the planet - photons race through the tubes at almost the speed of light
• It is the emptiest space in the Solar Systems - for the experiments, the protons need to avoid colliding with normal gas molecules so the environment is an ultra-high vacuum - the internal pressure is less than the pressure of the Moon
• It is simultaneously the hottest space in the galaxy but also colder than outer space. When ions collide it generates temperatures more than 100,000 times hotter than the heart of the sun. In contrast, the superfluid helium around the accelerator cools everything to -271.3 degrees C.
• It is the most powerful supercomputer system in the world - tens of thousands of computers around the world are connected into a distributed computing network called The Grid.

Quote from Times Science:

..studying the Higgs could open the way for explorations of the weirder corners of physics, such as the idea that our universe has six or seven extra dimensions, or the claim that there should be an unseen supersymmetric partner for every one of the subatomic particles that have been detected or the nature of the stuff that mysteriouis dark matter is made of.  

What this means? We may finally understand how the universe was created, break barriers to time travel, discover parallel universes that exist all around us. Maybe the weird science fiction books that postulate we exist in multiple universes simultaneously aren't far-fetched - maybe I am one of many Sarah's!!!

There is a concern though, and one that freaked me out back in 2008 which was also right at the time I was spending $5-10K prepping for the bird flu. There are scientists who are fearful that the experiments done in the Large Hadron Collider could destroy the solar system. You heard that right...destroy the entire solar system! That the actions of man could actually reduce our part of the universe to a black hole! The folks who worry about this aren't hacks - they are credible scientists. They postulate the collisions could create tiny black holes. And you don't want a black hole no matter how small -a black hole with its amazing gravity, swallows everything, even light. Within seconds, the collider itself would be swallowed, then France and Switzerland and, within a short time, the entire solar system. I guess there would be little time to say, "Told you so!"

Challenge today is being amazed you are witnessing this scientific discovery - it happened in your lifetime! Maybe you could spend some time on the Internet learning more about quarks and bosuns and what this all means. I know the technical jargon can get thick but there is plenty written in lay terms that make it understandable. This is a very big deal - one that we should all be able to discuss in an informed and intelligent way.

Peace,

Sarah

In Three Things Is a Man Revealed

Oh, crap. Yesterday....oh crap. What a terrible day. Living in squalor because of the office move and because I had new carpeting installed on the upper floor which means that all the crap is downstairs and needs sorting through. All Madeleine's stuff was in garbage bags but, in looking for something, she emptied them all on the floor in the piano room and now I'm knee deep in her stuff. There are days of work to do and  with me limping around from the fall down the stairs, I'm finding it hard to just get a cup of coffee nevermind clean. Mess takes a huge psychic toll - the chaos infiltrates the brain.

And because I'm finding it challenging to entertain and still lose weight, I made no plans for the holiday which would usually involve me cooking wonderful things I can't eat - or eating the wonderful things and then having to face myself and the scale the next day. Latest strategy is to just not cook for people, much to their chagrin - everyone loves my cooking.

So last night just simple plans for Lucas (Liza) and Convex (James) to come over for a few hours in the evening for chat and maybe Scrabble. Lucas came with drama - her power was out, her kids calling her crying because they had no way to entertain themselves with no electricity - life ends for them without their devices. So Convex was dispatched to bring them to my house so they could tap their devices into my electric grid and cool off. Somewhere in the frenzy of all that drama, Liza and I decided to have a martini. One became many. She (we) rationalized that federal holidays should be exempt from the no martini rule. Bad idea. We drank way too much (by now the kids had gone again and James had been dispatched again to babysit her littlest one while her husband took the older kids to the fireworks) - we saw very little of James during the evening.

I think we had the most amazing talk - I remember saying, "Why don't we talk like this sober?" And really that's a good question because, of late, conversation has become uninspired, austere, rote, spartan - looking for the right adjective, can't quite grasp it. What I'm trying to get at, is that living an always moderate life can have a dulling effect. I know it's the right thing to do for so many reasons - health, responsibility, dignity, etc. but the unintended consequence is that you never kick up your heels.

My favorite move is Babette's Feast. OK, it's really my second favorite movie - Babe, Pig in the City being the first. It's about a woman refugee who finds herself in an austere religious colony in some dour Scandanavian country. She takes a job as a housekeeper for two elderly women whose father founded a religious sect. Each day, the two old women do their religious duty and deliver sustenance to ne'er do well villagers, hydrated salt cod cooked with no seasonings being the main fare - nutrition but little more. Babette, using those same ingredients, makes food magic and the offerings bring not only needed calories but a large measure of joy to the recipients. Later she wins the lottery and uses the money for one epic meal, cooked in appreciation for the elderly women who took her in. The entire sect is invited and they try ever so hard to deny and resist the warming effects of the alcohol and the wonderful food (turns out Babette was a world-reknowned French chef in Paris). Eventually they surrender to the food and drink and the result is a happiness they hadn't allowed themselves to experience before. Truths are finally revealed, old grudges fall away, love blooms.

Alcohol...damn. Tricky stuff. I'm starting to think it has its place in our lives if it can be used strategically like in Babette's Feast. I'm trying to decide what to think about last night. Liza and I hadn't kicked off our shoes like that in a very long time and gotten really honest with each other, revealed ourselves so vulnerably. Without the alcohol, I don't think we would have cracked our brave facades. But it was predictable and in character that, as I came down the back stretch of the high, the crying started - it's always right below the surface. And ugh, when she left, I drunk texted him and called him a coward for not just telling me to go away - that he wants me gone completely, that I'm an annoying gnat buzzing around his head. He didn't respond.

From the Incognito book:

The Greek poet Alcaeus of Mytilene coined a popular phrase En oino alatheia (In wine there is the truth), which was repeated by the Roman Pliny the Elder as" In vino veritas". The Babylonian Talmud contains a passage in the same spirit: "In came wine, out went a secret." It later advises, "In three things is a man revealed: in his wine goblet, in his purse, and in his wrath." The Roman historian Tacitus claimed that the Germanic peoples always drank alcohol while holding councils to prevent anyone from lying.

Challenge today is thinking about your relationship with alcohol. Should it be part of your life, can it be a tool in your bag of tricks, used judiciously to get closer to people, or is the danger of abuse too great for you? I'm thinking life without euphoric highs just isn't worth living - living in an always responsible flat line way isn't gratifying. And yet, we have goals and dreams and realizing them requires steady, sober effort, slavishly putting one foot in front of the other as we trudge towards the prize. I've seen what alcohol can do to people and relationships - it is something to be fearful of - or at least very respectful of. Thinking this is something we need to think about more and talk about more. I'm not sure what my position should be and I'd like to hear yours. Maybe the federal holiday idea isn't such a silly idea! Next time though (Labor Day) I hope I don't end the evening with embarrassing drunk texts. Kind of hating myself this morning.

Peace,
Sarah

This Land Is Our Land/Fly Your Flag

Happy Fourth of July if you're one of my U.S. readers. This year finds the holiday plopped smack dab in the middle of the week on a Wednesday. So far today not much done unless you count conversation/human interaction as a worthy use of my time. Talked with Victor about his and my work, Liza about a possible job at the school my daughter works at, Mark (tenant) about his new girlfriend, Mario (tenant) about his work and his girlfriend, Madeleine (daughter) about her future. What I haven't done is talk about myself and my problems - these days trying to be useful to other people, my issues are old news, the stuff of broken records.

Today my thoughts are full of the holiday. Memories from my childhood and when my kids were younger, thoughts about the country's origins, worries about where we're headed. I should be flying the flag today but in the current state of house disorganization, I can't remember where it is. Goal=by Labor Day (September) I'll have unearthed it and will display it proudly.

The whole flag thing is a loaded issue in the U.S. For some reason, flying the flag smacks to some people as unthinking, chauvenistic patriotism - the worst of America - the "love it or leave it" crowd. Can't stand that thinking because it's so myopic and limiting and closed bordered. When I was growing up, my hippie bohemian parents wouldn't be caught dead flying a flag - staunch, very left leaning Democrats, especially ones from Cape Cod (Kennedy country), they lived in polar opposition to their tidy, narrow-minded, perfect lawn, Republican neighbors who displayed their patriotism openly and supported sending their sons to wars in far off lands. If my parents had flown a flag it probably would have been, at that time, the communist flag, or a Sufi Muslim flag, or something with cryptic poetry a la Allen Ginsberg adorning it. Something edgy and controversial sure to rouse the ire of their more conservative neighbors.

Anyway, I'm a grown-up now and I've got my own ideas about the flag and this country - ideas I'm pretty passionate about. Love the song This Land is Your Land by Pete Seeger. It expresses the sentiment that we all share the munificence of this amazing country with its unparalleled beauty and resources. We share it for the time being, hopefully realizing the only constant is change and reinvention.We are only renters - just the latest tenants in this place. Those would would try to preserve things exactly as they are now don't have a long view of history. It just doesn't work - the forces of change always win. Imagine the Indians trying to stem the tide of Europeans who eventually overthrew them? Shit happens so you just have to enjoy your place in the sun while you have it - make some hay.

Having taken that long view of history and realizing the U.S. in 100, 200, 500 years from now will look nothing like it looks today (who knows what the borders will be? Maybe we'll get pissed off at the Candadians and just annex them and Mexico? We will all be Mexican by then so really what's the point of a border?), I am passionately in love with this country, this time in history, the Midwest, my not so little town of Evanston which is like a resort in the summer. We are incredibly fortunate and many of us forget that. Back in Colonial times, the sacrifices that were made to secure our freedom as a nation were astounding. So much has been written about the founding fathers, much of it myth to create nationalism in a foundling country (propaganda is always a useful tool in uniting disparate peoples and colonists were very disparate), but if you strip away the myth, the facts of the sacrifices made by people like George Washington, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson were remarkable. I lifted this from another site - it bears reading today.

We tend to forget that to sign the Declaration of Independence was to commit an act of treason and the punishment for treason was death. To publicly accuse George III of "repeated injuries and usurpations," to announce that Americans were therefore "Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown," was a move fraught with danger -- so much so that the names of the signers were kept secret for six months. They were risking everything, and they knew it. That is the meaning of the Declaration's soaring last sentence: "And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm Reliance on the Protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor." Most of the signers survived the war; several went on to illustrious careers. Two of them became presidents of the United States, and among the others were future vice presidents, senators, and governors. But not all were so fortunate. 

Nine of the 56 died during the Revolution, and never tasted American independence. 

Five were captured by the British. 

Eighteen had their homes -- great estates, some of them - looted or burnt by the enemy. 

Some lost everything they owned. 

Two were wounded in battle. 

Two others were the fathers of sons killed or captured during the war. 

"Our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor." It was not just a rhetorical flourish. We all recognize John Hancock's signature, but who ever notices the names beneath his? William Ellery, Thomas Nelson, Richard Stockton, Button Gwinnett, Francis Lewis -- to most of us, these are names without meaning.But each represents a real human being, some of whom paid dearly "for the support of this Declaration" and American independence.

Lewis Morris of New York, for example, must have known when he signed the Declaration that he was signing away his fortune. Within weeks, the British ravaged his estate, destroyed his vast woodlands, butchered his cattle, and sent his family fleeing for their lives. 

Another New Yorker, William Floyd, was also forced to flee when the British plundered his property. He and his family lived as refugees for seven years without income. The strain told on his wife; she died two years before the war ended. 

Carter Braxton of Virginia, an aristocratic planter who had invested heavily in shipping, saw most of his vessels captured by the British navy. His estates were largely ruined, and by the end of his life he was a pauper. 

The home of William Ellery, a Rhode Island delegate, was burned to the ground during the occupation of Newport. 

Thomas Heyward Jr., Edward Rutledge, and Arthur Middleton, three members of the South Carolina delegation, all suffered the destruction or vandalizing of their homes at the hands of enemy troops. All three were captured when Charleston fell in 1780, and spent a year in a British prison. 

Thomas Nelson Jr. of Virginia raised $2 million for the patriots' cause on his own personal credit. The government never reimbursed him, and repaying the loans wiped out his entire estate. During the battle of Yorktown, his house, which had been seized by the British, was occupied by General Cornwallis. Nelson quietly urged the gunners to fire on his own home. They did so, destroying it. He was never again a man of wealth. He died bankrupt and was buried in an unmarked grave. 

Richard Stockton, a judge on New Jersey's supreme court, was betrayed by loyalist neighbors. He was dragged from his bed and thrown in prison, where he was brutally beaten and starved. His lands were devastated, his horses stolen, his library burnt. He was freed in 1777, but his health had so deteriorated that he died within five years. His family lived on charity for the rest of their lives. 

In the British assault on New York, Francis Lewis's home and property were pillaged. His wife was captured and imprisoned; so harshly was she treated that she died soon after her release. Lewis spent the remainder of his days in relative poverty. 

And then there was John Hart. The speaker of the New Jersey Assembly, he was forced to flee in the winter of 1776, at the age of 65, from his dying wife's bedside. While he hid in forests and caves, his home was demolished, his fields and mill laid waste, and his 13 children put to flight. When it was finally safe for him to return, he found his wife dead, his children missing, and his property decimated. He never saw any of his family again and died, a shattered man, in 1779. 

The men who signed that piece of parchment in 1776 were the elite of their colonies. They were men of means and social standing, but for the sake of liberty, they pledged it all -- their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.We are in their debt to this day.

Challenge for today is taking a humble moment and giving thanks for this time and place in history, this beautiful country, and the ancestors who came before us who had a vision of democracy and who, through personal sacrifice, made that dream a reality. We should also give thanks to the soldiers who represent us in the world and preserve our safety, often with their own lives.  Regardless of whether you are a Democrat, Republican, Libertarian, etc. you should consider flying the flag in solidarity. We're in this together. This land is our land - at least for now.

Peace,
Sarah


  

Online Alligator Pit/Fledgling Flight

Tuesday. Last night fun with friends Alan and Carla and their friend, Jeff. We went to Katerina's to hear three locally famous couples perform: Judy Roberts and her husband Greg Fishman, Jeannie Lambert and her husband (his name escapes me) and Petra and Andy Brown. It was great fun and inspiring to hear the different vocal styles - watching others perform is still the best way to learn. Carla and I agreed that everyone around us seems to be gaining weight - I wonder why that is! Me on the other hand, losing slowly - had used all of my WW points by the time we went so I just drank diet coke the entire evening.

But the exercise - boo. First the arthritic flare up in the knee which failed to flare down, so a cortisone shot a week+ ago, but then the fall down the front stairs RIGHT on the bad knee - arg! Shay says these days I'm a woman of color with the leg purple red and green from the ankle to above the knee. I broke down and went to the doctor yesterday cuz someone had me freaked out that one of the bruises which is more than a bruise could be a giant blood clot that could cut loose and lodge in my heart and kill me. My doctor said it bears watching but that I'm in no immediate danger of keeling over dead.

And speaking of keeling, today is a day for trying to maintain an even keel. Got some bad news about someone dear to me that requires a response from me. If I've learned anything these last years in therapy, it is to sit with stuff and not make precipitous decisions while the fight/flight response runs rampant through the body. Most decisions can wait until the body settles down and absorbs the facts and things can be weighed more rationally. So no immediate decision as to this person but my gut tells me that it's time to pull up the drawbridge. Time to let this other person figure out their life path without my well meaning intentions getting in the way - without using me as a crutch for not making changes.

So, you're not used to me being so cryptic, right? I guess I'm still smarting over peoples' criticism of this  blog - I've been told it's a TMI thing on many occasions. And I do need to respect the privacy of family and friends. Some friends don't mind being discussed at all - especially because I usually paint them in a positive light - Lucas (Liza), Convex (James), Gei (Josh), etc. There are many people in my life I don't discuss at all.

Speaking of friends, talked with Carol yesterday after a long dry spell - she's been really busy with family and pursuing her Master's in Literature, not to mention her work which is working alongside a nationally renowned academic who specializes in the issues surrounding family businesses (Kellog Center for Family Enterprises). He travels, consults, writes and lectures about family businesses and Carol does much of his research and coordination for him. Anyway, we hadn't spoken for a while and I brought her up to speed on my comings and goings as well as my impending date with Thomas on Saturday. When I mentioned he is a PhD candidate in Economics at Northwestern, she was delighted and told me that program is in the same Kellog building she works - that she's probably taken the elevator with him. Later I got an e-mail from her saying she had looked him up in the directory of students and he is not listed - could I have given her the wrong name? Seems I have protective friends and Carol always runs with the ball. She's the one who, after dinner with me, in which we discussed my Frisbie father (the one who died when I was 16 months old, went home and did a genealogy search of him and discovered I have first cousins living in Chicago. Researching anything and everything is what Carol does. So what do I do with this information? Just tuck it away as a red flag or do I ask him to clarify the discrepancy? It's so weird meeting people on line - it's not like normal dating where your friend, who sets you up, will vouch for someone's authenticity/character, etc. It's rough out here! If you're in a relationship think twice before jumping into the pit of online alligators! Hoping Thomas is who he says he is, but if not, I'll deal.

Lucas and I had a laugh recently over this issue. She and I decided sometimes you just have to make due - if it turns out Thomas is a Nigerian scam artist but I still like him, it doesn't preclude still having a relationship. Seriously, he could probably use a  partner! I could help him with his scams, writing or proofing his false profiles, being his wing "man". I could vouch for him if women, who were about to write a large check, got cold feet and I could definitely move to Nigeria to be with the man I love. Learning to be non-judgmental and open-minded!

Today, sad about the decision I have to make, worried about the authenticity of my date, struggling to establish order in the house after the office move, needing to reinvent my work effort, lots of unfinished business that needs focus. The downsizing is an opportunity. The unearthing of sedimentary layers of possessions is an opportunity. The clean living is the right foundation. In important ways, I feel born again, like a fledgling bird perched on the edge of a nest. That's the image I saw out of my window today while I decided what my day's agenda should be. Because my house is a lot taller than the neighbors, I look out onto the roof of the house next door. This morning an adorable sight - a baby dove sitting in the rain gutter - thinking he was waiting for mom and dad. While the little guy waited, he worked his wings, poufing them out and in, making them strong. A few times, I thought he was going to take first fledgling flight, but I swear I could see him looking down at the ground and deciding the fall would kill him - so he just poufed and paraded and waited to grow up.

Challenge today could be thinking about your life as being reborn. If I've inspired you to clear the decks of clutter and years of stuff, if you've done the hard structural work of sweeping out the old to make way for the new and now you find yourself wondering what the "new" looks like, take heart.  It might just be a matter of waiting with an open heart, maintaining your enthusiasm for other people, living life curiously and optimistically. The "new" will be revealed if the work has been done. It's antsy-making though - living in the cracks of old and new, sitting on a ledge, poufing and parading, waiting, waiting for the time to be right to take flight.

Peace,
Sarah

Help Henry Hear the Music/The Blog - Y/N?

It's Monday and here I am, getting used to living and working in the same place - takes discipline. It's almost noon and I'm just settling down to my computer after talking at length on the phone this morning with a few people I wanted to catch up with. Weekend was good and I hope yours was too. Friday didn't go to Schaller's - got busy at home organizing, Saturday voice lesson, Lucas and Convex came over for homemade chicken matzo ball soup (weird I know to make that in the summer but Lucas has whooping cough which the Chinese call the 100 day cough and chicken soup was her request.) It takes me three days to make my chicken soup - cook the chicken backs for two days, strain it into a chinois, then chill the soup so that I can skim the hardened fat from the top which gets saved to make the most incredible (albeit not healthy) matzo balls. Then the soup itself gets made by chopping and sauteing celery, carrots and onion in some of the chicken fat. The strained broth is added as is dried and fresh dill and freshly grated ginger. There has been actual scientific proof that homemade chicken soup has anti-viral properties - add the ginger which is also a powerful anti-viral, and you've got something very healing.

We sat around and strategized about Liza's life and quandaries - can I say that it's SO much more fun trying to solve someone else's problems than your own. How dumb is that? Why are we so free to think outside the constraints, creatively, ingeniously when we view the facts of someone else's situation. But when it comes to our own lives, each suggestion that comes to us is met with skepticism and doubt. So it was with Liza - I decided no idea was dumb - just threw a lot of "paint" at the wall to see if anything would stick. Her challenges surround a house that is too small for the number of people living there, lots of disorganization, a job she hates, schooling for deaf Henry, and more more more. As she described her life, I kept picturing her up to her neck in quicksand, telling her friends, "Um, guys, got a problem over here. Guys, are you listening?"  Things have reached critical mass for her and I need to help. Soon I may reach out to you for help as well. One nut that needs cracking is raising $7,000 for Henry's cochlear implants - that's the amount the insurance is not going to pay. Talked with friend Carol this morning and she suggested putting up a web site to raise the funds as well as having a social musical event - she's so good at this stuff - must be that degree in Marketing from Kellog! She even came up with a compelling title. "Help Henry Hear the Music."  More on this.

Date with Thomas next Saturday which is exciting. I had all but given up on guys of late - the dating thing is SO frustrating. When Lucas, Convex and I were out on Thursday with Gei (If you're not up to date on previous blogs, my Android phone has a nasty habit of changing words - auto text. It decided that Liza is Lucas and James is Convex. Josh has been dubbed Gei by the device. I'm Swaraj), we decided it would be a good idea for me to give up men completely and become a lesbian even though I'm not attracted to women in that way. They assured me I would get used to it! The appeal to me is having something fun to write about - "Sarah's Adventures on the Island of Lesbos!" Of course, I'm kidding - maybe. Anyway, those plans are scrapped now that there is a man on my radar - one who is really smart, nice and interesting. We'll see!

Last night sang at a new venue - 12 West Elm in the city. 'Twas a great musical night with Bob Salone at the piano. I sang three songs well which was gratifying. Lots of flirting and fun. I'm getting serious about the Burt Bacharach show - everyone I mention it to is jazzed about the idea - his music is not sung often enough, no one has done a show like this that I know of and people really enjoy the bouncy feel of his music. Great singer Trish consented to do the show with me - she's got this voice that's pure and rare and great stage presence - plus we vocalize well together - she sang backup for me last night on "Walk on By" -sounded great - perfect harmony and balance and our voices intertwine, hard to hear where one ends and one begins.  Steve used to call that sibling harmony.

Today I'm thinking about this blog - wondering if it's a good thing. To date I have over 4,000 hits and people from all over the world who read it. Fascinating that people in the UK and Singapore, for example, find my life and comments compelling enough to want to check in each day. It flatters and confuses me - I can understand why my friends would want to read and catch up - but strangers? And what's also interesting is that my closest friends don't read the blog - they don't want a mediated Sarah - don't want to know me electronically. And then there are those who find my blog offputting or objectional. I lost one friend over my blog - she found it unattractively inappropriate and lived in fear I would divulge something about her. We had harsh words about it and that was that. Another friend reads it but "tsk, tsks" about it - free with criticism when he thinks I cross a line (does he have any idea how hard it is to be interesting and intimate without being boundary-less?) Most recently my sister admonished me about offering her advice when I was trying to bring her comfort over a problem she was having. She shut me down and said, "Don't talk to me like the last paragraph in your blog!" Ouch....that got me to thinking that she reads, but hates what she reads, and  finds me pontificating and prescriptive - and who am I with my screwed up life to be offering advice anyway?

Maybe she's right. Title is Living Well. What qualifications do I have to be writing what is often an advice column? I'm not Kaveh who has traveled through fire and come out the other end with wisdom so deep you could drop a stone in it and never hear it hit bottom.  Many days I'm NOT living well at all - just getting by.  I often don't practice what I preach so eloquently and often I write in a jaunty way, designed to inspire and then go play phone Scrabble for the rest of day, almost comatose with sadness. So Sarah=fraud? Maybe.  And yet, when I talked to Gei (Josh) over the weekend and I broke down in tears and confessed that I still cry every day (I told him this because he too is stricken with sadness), I also told him that you can live very well and still be heartbroken and sad. Your life can be the worst of times, the best of times. I pointed out to him our fun at the comedy club on Thursday where we all but soiled the floor peeing, we were laughing so hard. Comedy and tragedy coexisting.

Challenge today is to drop Sarah an e-mail and let me know if you get anything out of this blog. I assume I'll just hear from people who have something positive to say. It's the missing responses that will be telling. If I get an impression that people are reading just because they like to watch train wrecks, then I need to rethink this - take the blog private (journal), change the blog (sanitize the personal focus), or just take the hour I write this every day and work on a book instead. Thoughts?

Peace,
Sarah

sbritton#brittoninfoservices#com  (substitute the "@" sign and "com" for the two pound signs - did this to confuse bots who scour the Internet for e-mail addresses). Picture is Island of Lesbos.