THIEVES!
Someone stole the Barack sticker right off the back of my Jeep yesterday. Cheap shot. I’m going to do what MLK might have recommended - I’m going to buy 100 stickers and carry them with me. Every time I approach the car, if I see the sticker has been removed, I’ll replace it on the spot.
“The world is full of trouble, but as long as we have people undoing trouble, we have a pretty good world.” – Helen Keller
Ruth’shead Revisited
I hadn’t even heard that Brideshead Revisited was being remade into a feature film until three days ago. I’m just that out of the loop. So tonight, I went to the movie theatre with girlfriend and remembered dreams that had long since been packed away with my Lady Diana scrapbook. (She was not a princess yet when I fell in love with her.)
I looked up at that screen, at the women in their diamonds, and thought, They didn’t know. They were completely innocent of any pain their jewelry may have caused. Once I didn’t know. I wish I could go back to that happy state of not knowing.
It’s not that I really want to go back to being 12 years old again. But tonight, hearing the dialogue between Sebastian and Charles brought me right back to the old living room on Phillips Drive. Watching Brideshead in 1982 was the first time I claimed a vision for my future, for my identity, that felt all my own. I wanted to wear those dresses, and sit in those rooms, and walk in those gardens, and play chess, and talk all day. I wanted to be rich. There wasn’t any shame about it.
Until tonight, I had forgotten what that felt like.
Listen
. . . I think I’m on to something . . .
Remember when I was saying that I kept having inspiring thoughts away from the keyboard, but sitting down brought quiet? I realized that The Quiet is just what I need.
Call it “Postmarathon let down,” or “Needing a New Project,” or feeling angry about N’s death, or perhaps the beginning of a mid-life crisis. Call it anything, but the result equaled unexpected bouts of high anxiety and it was really starting to wig me out. Every other minute felt like a dramatic “do or die” crossroads laced with overtones of nihilistic “what’s the point anyway?”. Andy even agreed that perhaps I should see my old therapist, Barbara, at $170 a pop.
But that got me thinking, What would Barbara say? Perhaps the very same thing she said to me on my very first appointment with her. Have I been doing yoga?
What happens when a person does yoga? Quiet comes.
So I sat down today with the purpose of being quiet. It didn’t last long; but intention matters. And I realized that I’m not going to THINK my way out of this. I’m going to BE out of it. By breathing. By listening. To nothing.
It’s no wonder these feelings of anxiety came along. EVERY. WHERE. WE LOOK there are desperate requests for our attention, our money, our help, our prayers, our time. The information is beeping at us from the gadgets in our hands-attached to our ears-constantly. Here’s one now, literally-just came in. It says, “traffic is exceptionally rad today. may be about 10 min late.”
So the chain of thought becomes: Rad? Is the R near the B on her phone? Or has rad become bad these days? I’m getting old. Or does she mean radical? Is she late so often because I set an awful example? I need to be on time. I need to be more strict. I need to be less strict. I need to take that management seminar. I need to move back east before my parents become fatally ill. I need to clean out the filing cabinets both here and at work first. I need to SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Breathe. What I’m trying to say is that I had underestimated the vast quantity of garbage that I (and every human in modern civilization) is having to cope with. And what is required is more silence. It feels good realizing that.
Thinking about another marathon
My big con against doing another marathon is how bloody difficult it was to walk for the 24 hours - okay, 36 hours - after the event. My feet were seriously baby balloons. I’ve decided that if I could just do the whole race in less time, my feet wouldn’t get as swollen. Seven hours is just too long on the poor peddlers. So the current training goal is simple: walk faster.
I can do 13:45 minute miles for shorter walks - but I realize that I need to build in intervals of a 15:00 minute mile pace in order to have true stamina. The question is - is that fast enough to finish in 6 hours? And an even better question - is 6 hours short enough to combat the swelling? Do I need to start jogging? It’s time for some math - followed by some goal setting. Perhaps another RNR in SD ‘09 . . . . Could be a good life long habit.
O.K. - What you’re hearing is my overly analytical mind trying to figure out my marathoning. This is the chatter I’m forced to live with when I take on a race. The antidote is when I watch videos like the one posted here . . . that’s when the worries quiet, and my heart takes over. There’s an invisible force that just pulls me forward with no logic, no turning back, no matter what: finish.
Hearing about the Hoyts, all of my words dissolve into nothing. Not even silence. Just a place vacant of “Ruth”. Perhaps their inspiration brings me closer to that thing some people call “the annihilation of ego” or absence of self. Or maybe I’m just filled with an unprecedented amount of awe. What an extraordinary team.
Grateful
I am so grateful that whenever I’m thirsty, clean water is available. In fact, I’ve never been without pristine drinking water. I can’t imagine what that must be like.
There are millions of people in the world who are without this luxury, who may never have it as long as they live. Hopefully organizations like this and this will continue helping.
It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? One breath at a time. One moment at a time. On to work.
Intuition: It’s physical
Somehow, right around the time I was learning to butter toast, the phrase “women’s intuition” germinated with what was - for any child - a too vast knowledge of I Love Lucy plots. The result was an underlying idea that whatever women think they know, they should just mind their own business anyway.
It took me years of adult living, therapy, seeking and following wise teachers, and developing the habit of doing spiritual practice regularly every once in a while, to realize that Read the rest of this entry »
Stretching before my next real post
What’s the “run the faucet in the bathroom” equivalent to helping a person write? For the last 48 hours, every time I’ve been away from my computer or any paper to speak of, I’ve had blogable (and even some book-draftable) thoughts running faster than . . . see, if I were unloading the dishwasher right now, I’d have a fresh metaphor to use. I’d even have a fresher word than “fresh” to use for describing “metaphor”. But once I lift up the key board lid and set my fingers over the letters . . . . . .
. . . . . quiet.
So today, after bickering with Andy for a moment, because, well, *bickering just happens sometimes, Read the rest of this entry »
Fuck Cancer
When I did my Team In Training Marathon last month, I walked in honor of two people: one dead (Frank) & one alive (N). I wrote a bit about Frank’s life and death at my fundraising site. I didn’t mention N because, well, for a lot of reasons.
I’ve known N and his wife for 14 years. We’ve lived in the same building; they have taken care of Lily nearly every time I’ve traveled. Their cat is actually Lily’s brother from the same litter. They call me “dear.”
N was diagnosed with leukemia fairly recently - within the last 12 months or so. When I signed up for Team, when I walked my training miles and especially when I made my 26.2 mile journey, I did so with hope for his recovery.
I never got the courage to tell him that I was walking with him in mind - or that I was raising money for LLS. It’s just that I didn’t want him to feel objectified. Does that sound crazy? The marathon seemed trivial compared to his daily challenges. Even when it came time to add his initials to my jersey, I inked the letters small. I guess what I’m trying to say is that his health belonged to him; it wasn’t mine to use or parade. So I kept the idea of him as my “honored teammate” (as they say) pretty much to myself and to Andy.
Tonight I learned that he died last week.
I don’t need condolences, but if you’re inclined to pray, please take a moment to hold N’s family in your thoughts.
Full Stop
A dear friend sent this video to me today. It made me feel good . . . even though I don’t know who half of these people are. Will.I.Am.? I typed his name on an invoice the other day but if he were sitting next to me at Houston’s would I know? Nope.
I really don’t care how The-Currently-Swollen-in-the-Face-Justin Timberlake votes, nor do I trust any celebrities like him to be informed on my behalf. I’ve got the facts down; I know that Barack Obama is the best available choice for our country right now.
The reason I’m posting this video is that I love the ethos of seeing artists stand up this way. They look and sound fabulous and they make me want to stand up on top of my desk and be counted among them - Oh Captain, My Captain, Obama, YES! . . . Obama! Obama!
I’m turning the comments off because this point is not up for discussion. Nor does it have to be. This blog is not a democracy; it’s my kingdom.
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