On Belly Dancing

I came to belly dancing through my satellite service. Seriously. There’s a show on the fitness channel that teaches belly dancing. Coming from cable, I was first intrigued by the show and the moves it taught, then tried following along. Now, I’m hooked.

Let me tell you, this is a little late in life to become a belly dancer. However--it’s great exercise, uses a lot of the muscles that need using at this age, and makes you feel sensuous and flexible—which is great at any age.

What is the greatest thing about belly dancing is its mysterious history. Sure, the very name conjures up exotic lands and mysterious rituals, but the fact is, no one knows exactly where belly dancing came from. It’s connected with the Middle East and Northern Africa and, in truth, there are Egyptian styles and Turkish styles—each with their own signature moves and dress—and in one’s mind you seem to travel to these exotic s with their strange cultures when you are involved in the dance. It’s a great escape as well as a great exercise.

Even the name ‘belly dancing’ is not its true name. It’s really ethnic dancing (in Arabic, raqs sharqi or raqs baladi) from that area of the world, and that came to the western world via the Chicago World’s Fair of 1893, where it caused a great sensation. And of course, it features the belly with great emphasis—scandalous at that time in history—hence, the ‘belly’ nomenclature. Since then, this native dance has been adopted by many western nations—America, Canada, Australia—and these countries have added moves with their own cultural interpretation.

The spouse was curiously eager to tell people I’ve been learning to belly dance. I don’t know what this is about, as I don’t go about dancing FOR him, so much as he catches me in the middle of televised class—or I break in a move spontaneously to practice a hip-isolation move or master a tricky step. I would have to say he likes the whole idea.

The down side of learning to belly dance is that you can’t properly do it anywhere outside a classroom. You would certainly get some odd looks—and possibly some interesting propositions—if you were to start belly dancing in the middle of a bar or club. Nonetheless, the urge to belly dance strikes at odd moments. You can hear a suitable beat in the overhead music of a supermarket and find yourself longing to break into a hip pop in the checkout line. You don’t, of course—but the urge is strong and unremitting.

All in all, belly dancing has added many fun dimensions to life—which is probably why it became so popular in the first place.

On Tiger

This was one that got under my skin, for some reason. Maybe it’s because I’ve been married for a long time, and have invested a great deal of time and attention to this relationship. Maybe it’s because my little grandson admired Tiger Woods since he was old enough to watch TV and hold a golf club at the miniature golf course. But I found myself deeply disappointed in Tiger’s behavior. Also, disappointed in having been duped by his PR people into thinking Tiger was all things good and hard-working and focused and disciplined—when the very opposite was the case.

The uproar about Tiger is now reaching almost operatic proportions. Internet games are turning up, in which Elin Woods chases Tiger in his car. Youtube has enactments of the Tiger Woods family drama. And I expect soon someone will put the whole thing to music, in a kind of rock-opera form, with maybe a few hip-hop elements.

Mostly, I’m upset at Tiger—and at all cheating men, really—because of what they bring home. And I’m talking about STD’s, though that’s a possibility that can’t be overlooked, as well. What they bring home is utter disruption. They bring home suspicion—and distrust—and a complete lack of faith in the marriage/family institution. They bring home destruction and despair, and for that, they can’t be forgiven. These breaches leave wounds that children in that home will carry with them for the rest of their lives, regardless of whether the marriage is patched or not. Regardless of whether the children are consciously aware of what has occurred. That’s how large the transgression is—that’s how huge the repercussions.

I hope men remember that when they carry on in very adolescent ways outside of their marriage vows. It’s not just about YOU anymore. It’s not even just about your wife. It’s about the concepts and feelings you bring home for your children to experience and carry with them all their lives. They have no choice in this.
Nothing ever happens in a vacuum. Not if there are children nearby to bear the cost.

Family Relations

I recently attended a family funeral of someone in my family who was dear to me, and as I gazed over this mass of cousins, children of cousins, relations through marriage, and old family friends, I was amazed again at how complex the human animal is.

I’ve tried to figure out family relationships since I was a tiny girl, and still don’t understand them. This is a personal failing, I know, because some people seem to know and understand these relationships without even giving them a bit of thought. It’s as if their tribal instinct is much stronger than mine, as it if they have a part of their brain that automatically makes and stores these calculations, and the very fact that these people are ‘blood’ or connected by marriage makes it crystal clear to them what degree of intimacy or social interaction is required. The process eludes me.

Me, I thrash around trying to remember names and connections, and if anyone asks me what relationship I am to anyone else, I need a chart, birth documents, marriage certificates, and still photographs. I really am not good at this. I suspect everyone in my family knows this and treats me with the kind of gentle tolerance you would give someone who is a bit slow. They are very kind, very nice and respectable people and I am humbled and gratified to be a part of their group. I still don’t understand their connection to me, however.

The person whose passing called together this renewal of tribal ties was my aunt. People tell me I resemble her. She was also my godmother, so there were a lot of solid, tangible ‘connections’ I could hang on to when interacting with her. She also made a point a of staying in contact with me throughout the years, and that often endeared her to me, because I’m a slippery character often wandering off into the horizon without looking backward. She passed and I’m poorer for her passing, and that much I understand. What I do not understand is that my connection with her, and even her passing, has brought me closer to this pack of relations and family friends that collected around her and because of her.

This is the mystery of tribal ties. This is the magic of human relationships. I shall have to ponder it more because it is forever beyond my natural understanding. But what a wonder it is to me.
Thanks, Aunt Midge. Love you much. Carry on. See you soon.

Why Americans Hate Recessions

I’ve lived through a number of recessions now. This current one is a little worse because it seems to have effects that may stretch out into the future, and that influences our feelings of Hope for the Future. And that is very bad for Americans. \Americans are very into the Future and all the promise that it implies.

Things may be bad now, but there’s always the future. The future can bring unforeseen ‘opportunities’ that can change our lives radically and beneficially. Hence, the ‘future’ is something that is inherently Americans’ friend. Regardless of what has come before, the future beckons.

Mostly, I think, Americans hate the limitations that recessions bring. Spending must be curtailed, and that always makes Americans antsy. Shopping is a hobby for many in America, and many a middle class family spends their Sunday at the mall picking up a few things to make their week sunny and bright. Recessions slow this activity down. Life looks duller and grayer during recessions—and you’ve pretty much seen the clothes your co-worker or school chum has worn before. How depressing.

Americans also hate recessions because it cuts down on travel, and we are a big country with lots to see, and relatives who have landed at various points around the nation that need to be visited to renew old tribal ties. Recessions make this travel more burdensome, either by making it too expensive, or by slowing it down by car instead of by plane. I’m a travel junkie so, believe me, I take the inconveniences created by the recession very personally and I hold George W. Bush and the Republican Party wholly responsible for my staying home more this summer and spending waaay more hours on the internet looking for good travel deals.

The Recession also changed a lot of educational plans for Americans. Many college-bound kids had to ratchet back to community colleges in order to afford tuition. Many adults who lost jobs had to retrain for other ones, or they had to put off classes they might have taken for personal improvement in order to do more job-oriented training. Americans love to learn new things, from Thai cooking to belly-dancing.

All in all, this recession put the U.S. on hold, and America really hates to feel itself spinning its wheels in place. This is a country with places to go to and things to do. Its entire psyche is wrapped up in forward movement, from its history of wagontraining across mountains, to its invention of an entire auto industry, to its flights to the Moon, to its communication around the planet with the internet. This country is all about movement—and it will not rest easy until the money starts flowing again, and with it, the movement of goods and ideas and energy.
Till then, let’s hope Americans get their act together. So we can all move forward to reap the benefits this nation so generously provides. All of us—together.

Dinner With Dieters - Redux

Okay, I can’t seem to leave this subject alone. Again, I spent a weekend with some friends, and it was very clear that the female side of this couple was constantly making food choices of a dietary nature. There was a concentration and calculation evident that was unnerving to me. Every morsel had to be mentally weighed and evaluated for substantive nutritional value and caloric consequence.

It was both fascinating and horrifying to me, as hostess to this person. I had the feeling that whatever I had chosen to serve these people was wrong—even though I clearly chose foods that were high in nutrition and had made healthy ‘choices’ possible, I felt I hadn’t done enough. Worse, I felt that even serving food at all had sabotaged this person’s efforts.

Woe is me.

It reinforced my sense that we are fast losing our ability to enjoy food. The food that we all centered our family and societal rituals around was now the enemy—not to be trusted, and never to be given into. It really made me feel uncomfortable to be around. I longed for a nice smiling, chubby dinner guest who complimented my efforts effusively.

I wonder how many other people are out there making preparations for dinner guests and weekend guest and are absolutely agonizing over what to serve and how much of it should be available. Too little looks skimpy and cheap—too much looks reckless and even hostile. It becomes a hostess’s nightmare, and there is no winning situation here. If you serve great food, a certain number of your guests will be inclined to turn their nose up at it, even BECAUSE it is so good and tempting. And no one wants to serve bad food, or food that doesn’t please both visually and gastronomically.

So I will entertain my guests as usual, and I’ll watch them turn away. I’ll watch the fevered calculation and the fear and self-loathing they experience when placing something delicious on their plate. I’ll watch their doubt and their regret.
These people sure have taken the pleasure out of entertaining. Much of life is no fun anymore.

Shania Twain's "You're Still the One."

It’s fairly often that a song makes me drift into a whole train of philosophical thought, and maybe that’s the true genius of good song-writing. It can lead into a complete thought pattern, so you can even draw a conclusion about life in general.

I was on a bit of a road-trip recently and Shania Twain’s ‘You’re Still the One’ was playing on the radio. For those who don’t know, it’s a song about a couple who is still together after a number of years, even though people didn’t think it would never last. And the love is still very strong. A classic circumstance. Who in their own lives has ever heard of a couple getting married, or have even attended the wedding itself, thinking ‘Good God, this will NEVER last’?

(‘but let’s keep dancing—let’s bring out the booze—and have—a ball—if that’s all—there is.’)

Pardon me, I digress into an old Peggy Lee song. A very good one, by the way.

But it strikes me that this tendency to pre-assess the success of any relationship is a waste of time and bald expression of ego, because we can never fully know the people involved, nor what makes the relationship tick, nor the circumstances that will conspire in the future to keep them together or break them apart. Essentially, it’s an exercise in futility—a blowing of hot air—a frittering of thought-energy. We can never possibly know the future, we are only playing likely odds, and even then odds that we know so little about. What I’m saying is, there’s not enough data. So why are we compelled to do it?

We do it because we like to feel we can control things. So much of human existence turns on random events. And this, the most intimate of relationships—one that touches us so near our hearts every single day of our lives--by rights should be both knowable and controllable. Throughout the history of mankind, humans have struggled to control these relationships, even to the point of making the basis of them economic. Now, economics and finances, we know something about. It has a beginning point and an end point, and we’re pretty clear on what finances and economics do in-between. And though this has worked to some extent throughout history, there have always been outliers—relationships that don’t follow the imposed rules. History is replete with examples. Songs are written about it, artistic works memorialize it. We struggle to make sense of relationships, but they have mysterious unwritten rules of their own.

To get back to my point:

I am one of those couples of which Shania Twain sings. People in fact did say it wouldn’t last—it lasted anyway. The people who said it now feel silly. And we feel strangely vindicated, though we do still occasionally feel like sending out raspberries to some people.It just shows the drawbacks of prejudging people. We’re so often on the losing side.

Things I Like About Men

Okay, I decided to do this article because, believe it or not, some people have accused me of not appreciating men. I know, I know—whodda thunk it? They don’t know me at all, do they? Actually I have a man in my life, I have been surrounded by men in my work environment most of my life, I even have a couple tiny little men-in-the-making as grandkids. I know something about men. After all my years of observing men, these are the things that astound me most about them:

That thing that makes men work at something until they almost drop to the ground. What is that? That is amazing. Men very seldom say, “Gee, you know, I think I’m going to let this go for awhile and go do something brainless, then I’ll come back to it fresh.” No, they just keep at it and keep at it. Sometimes, there’s a lot of swearing involved. But they keep going until they master (conquer) it. I like that. It’s a little unhinged, but I like it.

That thing where men all jump in to pull together to help do some heavy lifting guy-thing together. I love that. I’ve seen it happen over and over. Men will drop what they are doing to come to pitch in on something that has to be lifted onto a truck, rolled over to another position, or crawled inside of to get something out. What is that about? And they’ll do it to help any other man regardless of who he is, whether they like the guy or not, or who else is involved in the task. I love that quality. Keep that one. It’s beautiful to watch.

The thing where men are compelled to jump into dangerous situations and rescue people. This is the quality that gives us firemen, and police, and EMT technicians. But I’ve seen this one in lots of places—even on roads where someone has overturned their vehicle and the police and ambulance haven’t arrived yet. Ordinary guys will just jump in to see if they can help someone. This quality just makes me weep. This one should be kept in the gene pool no matter what else we decide to keep. This is the one that keeps people alive, keeps little kids safe, and makes women want to live with men no matter how much trouble they are. Keep this one. Definitely.

That thing where men think every problem has a solution. This sometimes drives women mad, but it really is a terrific quality. When you tell your husband or boyfriend or father about a problem you have and they automatically come up with some focused, practical solution that will turn the problem around. Often it has little to do with the problem, and doesn’t have a chance in hell of working. But I like that mental state of thinking that just about anything is manageable. I like that optimism. It’s somehow comforting—even if not at all true.
That’s it. I’m sure I’ll think of more things later, but these are the ones I can stand behind right now. If anybody has more to add, just jump in. I’m open to suggestion.

Lady With A Gun

I was at the post office the other day, a couple of people behind an older woman who evidently wanted to pick up her mail. The man at the counter politely told her how she had to do it now and gave her a card that would help her get it done by phone. She took the card and turned to leave, but before she got far , she stopped in front of me and complained to the effect that she traveled a lot and it used to be easy to pick up her mail, but now it was very difficult but and different now—and maybe it was because of the illegals. She waited for my input on the matter.

Now, I don’t quite understand how she connected the illegals to this process, but it was clear she felt that ‘her country’ was no longer the same, and that everything was worse now, because of something—she wasn’t exactly sure what—but illegals seemed to definitely be a part of it somewhere.

I was left standing there, trying to be agreeable and indulgent—rather as everyone does when faced with older peoples’ misconceptions and fears about modern life. I tried to say something vague and sympathetic. At which point, she informed me forthrightly that she was considering getting a gun.

Now, I’m not sure how the gun helps with the mail delivery and the illegals in America either, but it seemed that she thought this would help her significantly in her daily living in these unsettling times. And I thought: How many other older or otherwise slightly dispossessed people of this society are considering buying a gun as the solution to their confusion, fear, and general alienation?

I don’t know why she felt that way. I suspect it has something to do with right wing talk radio whipping fears about everything that Republicans no longer have control over, and didn’t do a good job controlling when they DID have control. Maybe someone out there can add a bit of clarity to the situation. It seemed more likely that this little old woman would fire on the UPS man trying to deliver a package than anything else—especially if he were the wrong color or otherwise threatened her in some irrational manner that day. But she had her right to own a gun, and by God, she was going to use it.

She looked at me squarely in the eye as she told me this about buying the gun, as if I could automatically be counted on to back her up and encourage her to do so. I did not, however. In fact, I told her I thought it probably wasn’t a good idea. “Why not?” she demanded. So I told her: “Because more guns floating around only make it more dangerous for good people.” She did not take this well. And I added with a shiver, “I don’t like guns—I don’t want any in my house.” The gentleman behind me in line, a young man in his thirties piped up at that very moment. “I don’t like them either. They scare me. My dad used to teach me to handle them, but I don’t want any around.”

The little old woman seemed nonplussed by this lack of support. It was my turn to step up to the counter, and I missed her departure. But I don’t think she got the satisfaction she hoped for. Maybe, however, the young man and I were able to dissuade her from reaching for gun ownership as an automatic solution to every problem, the standard balm for every emotional wound.

I don’t know, it was just a very scary encounter. It just did not bode well for our society that she should feel this way. Old or not.

The Republican Legacy of Dismissal

Republicans are still at it—still pushing their same old ideology of ‘them that has, gets.’ Now, it's regarding healthcare, and it’s going on continually among people—with talk radio starting the ball rolling to give people the language with to start dismissing people—as individuals and in groups—so that they can rightfully be eliminated from the political public discourse.

I recently heard it in regard to fat people. You may hear it pretty often yourself, more so, now that we are discussing healthcare and what should be done. From ‘fat people should be taxed’ to ‘fat people are causing all the healthcare dollars being spent.’ As if when we eliminate fat people from the healthcare equation everything magically falls into place.

This is ruse of the worst kind. It plays on peoples’ already entrenched visual dislike of those with extra body fat, who are easily recognized and can be readily pointed out as ‘not like us.’ It calls to mind what was once done—is still being done—with blacks. And that similarity to a past social error alone rubs me the wrong way, to the point where I refuse to participate in the group dynamic of ‘let’s get fatty.’ Which also plays out as ‘we’re better than fatty,’ and ‘you’re either with us or against us.’ Which technique was used to everyone’s detriment during the Bush years, when anyone who disagreed with a stated policy was met with taunts of being unpatriotic and un-American.

See what a handy dynamic it is? Useful in almost ANY circumstance.

Okay, before I get too psychological here—which I am prone to do—let’s just say I expect better of the human species. Historically, we always get into some strange and ugly territory when we lean into the ‘us versus them’ mentality. It never serves us well, and almost always sets us backward on the evolutionary track. Better we should get used to the idea that we are all in this together. That even those who hold us back during the trek on this planet are valuable assets and may even teach us something.

But you won’t find this in Republican ideological circles. It will always be ‘us against them’ there. That political party thrives on division. It also thrives on delusion. That much, we have already realized.

The Elusive Governor Mark Sanford of South Carolina

Okay, I couldn’t resist commentary on this one. It’s just too rich in detail to pass by.

The illustrious and respected conservative Mark Sanford of South Carolina gave us all a treat this week with his flight from responsibility and pressure into the arms of an Argentinian mistress, without passing the mantle of government to his most capable lieutenant governor and without even telling his staff where he could be reached. This is the stuff of which operattas are made, and surely we will see a number of them on this very case before the decade is out. The story has all the elements—love, sex, power, betrayal, secrecy, possible misuse of funds, and media excitement and confusion fuging in the background.

I particularly liked the use of the Appalachian Trail as the cover for where he was. It was a stroke of genius so blinding as to be too cute by half. Hiking the Appalachian Trail has an air of macho derring-do about it—an air of solitary wisdom—an air of environmental concern—an air of youthful energy—and an air of relevant hipness--all qualities that the public would most like to have in a presidential candidate. It was such a perfect excuse for a prospective presidential candidate for 2012, in fact, that no one believed it. We all sat around waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it surely did, in the form of a separated woman with two sons in Argentina who was evidently good at sending sympathetic emails. Good God. If ever an affair reflected the contorted magic of our technological times it was this one.

Okay, who had ‘Argentinian mistress’ in the ‘Reason for Sanford’s Mysterious Absence’ Pool?

But as the media slobbers over those tantalizing emails, we must not forget that it isn’t the affair itself that is most significant to the character, or lack thereof, of this man at the head of South Carolina. It’s that he so got wrapped up in his own needs and desires, the people and government of South Carolina came a very distant second to him. Adulterers will come and go in this world—so to speak—but not doing the job you are paid to do always deserves a punishment fitting the crime.
So as we wave a fond farewell to Governor Sanford’s political career, let us remember to re-focus ourselves on what is truly important to us as citizens. Not the idle proselytizing of pompous blowhards who believe their own PR a little too much—nor the high moral tone that always turn out to be a bit of a joke--but the actual care and work put into the ‘public service’ of the positions they are elected to do. “We will know them by their fruits’ is one of those biblical phrases Republicans can appreciate. Let’s hope they will live by the phrase in the choice of their leadership.

The Marketing of the American Consumer

I recently changed from cable to satellite TV. I have no idea why. I guess the dishes I saw installed on roofs intrigued me. Also, I was unhappy with my cable package, and with my cable prices. You would think for $100 a month you could find more to watch than just cable news. Anyway, the satellite dish company had a special, so I called them and a very nice young man came out to install my little dish and explain how my remote worked. I mean, really—he was very thorough about training me in the use of the remote. Lord knows, I need instruction, too. So, anyway, in order to get the good price of the special deal I had to go online and register my rebate. Which I did. But it takes weeks for it to go into effect so I still got the regular bill. Which was mighty close to the amount I used to pay for cable. So, really, I’m not very happy. I’m not a happy satellite customer, so far.

But it called to mind how often we are seduced into these heavily-advertised packages of technology without ever knowing what it is we’re getting or what we’ll end up paying for it. In fact, I asked a friend who just had their satellite TV installed how much it would cost, and he said, ‘Who knows? You know how it is when they set you up with these things.”

It’s true, we don’t know. In fact, that’s the game—to make sure we don’t know. Oh, you can try to find out what you’ll get and how much you’ll pay for it. You’ll ponder the little ‘package comparison’ screens and think you’ve taken control of your satellite TV budgeting. And some slick little 20- or 30-year-old ‘people person’ marketer will be happy to talk on the phone to sign you up for it, but you’ll come away not knowing what you just signed on for. And you won’t have a clue how much they’ll be able to gouge you for it long-term. And you’ll greet the first bill for it with a mixture of horror and admiration for the techniques that put you in this tenuous position.

I’ve been reading up on marketing, and the book said some of the most successful marketing campaigns have been done by keeping customers’ needs in mind at all times and at all levels of the business, from R & D to distribution to advertising. I find this hard to believe. What I WILL believe, however, is that these companies put the ‘perception’ of putting the customer first, first. I think that’s more the truth of what’s being done. The “here, let me help you while I’m picking your pocket’ method of marketing.

At some point, the customer is going to rebel against this ‘bundled’ way of overcharging us. Meanwhile, I will ponder why I can get 17 religious stations in my satellite package when I don’t give a fig about religious programming, or why the good movie channels are all ‘extra.’
I’m sure it’s just me, and I did it wrong. Or is making you feel that way part of the mysterious marketing strategy, too?

The GM Bankruptcy - And How I Love My Buick

I don’t quite understand how this bailout of GM and the subsequent bankruptcy is supposed to work. This is a little over my head, and I only hope the Great Minds know what they’re doing on this. All I know is, I find myself a little bit fearful—kind of a free-floating anxiety—about where I’ll be able to get my cars in the future.

It’s not that I object to getting cars from overseas manufacturers. I’ve had cars from them before, and they’ve been okay cars—not the fabulous bargains of staggering quality they are sometimes portrayed—but okay cars. During the decades that these foreign car producers were making their big gains in the U.S., we took to ‘buying American’ without thinking too much about it. It just seemed right to support American industry. Well, that worked out well. We must have been the only ones supporting it.

Anyway, the reason we kept buying American was because of our Buicks. We bought the first Buick because it offered 0% financing or some fool thing, and cars seemed so expensive at the time that a break in the interest rate was very attractive.

We grew to love our Buick. It was solid, attractive, and reliable—and had that smooth Buick ride on road trips. And I dearly love road trips. A smooth ride is very important when you’re trying to balance a McDonald’s coffee cup and Egg McMuffin early in the morning as you try to beat the rush hour traffic on the way to some pleasant, far-off destination.

We rode that Buick into the ground. And it was very good to us all along they way, with few repairs, and almost no breakdowns along the side of the road that I can remember. The gas gauge did go out—which made road-tripping a matter of intense calculation. And it did cost an enormous amount of money to have it repaired. They had to remove the entire gas tank to get at the gauge mechanism to replace it.

No matter. We bought our second Buick, regardless. And, again, it is being very good to us. I don’t know what surprises it may have for us in the future—a relationship with a car is much like a relationship with a person, you go in with great hope and optimism, and learn to deal with the all the quirks and breakdowns along the way. And as with a relationship, you mourn when you must part. And as with a relationship, some new, flashy item catches your eye and takes your mind off your grief. Ah, the patterns of human existence continue on and on, don’t they?

So for the moment, I love my Buick. I worry that the GM bankruptcy will hamper my purchases in the future. However, I also see that if they could take the quality and reliability of my Buick and graft it onto a hybrid’s environmental benefits, they would really have something. So I’ll wait. With fingers crossed. Hoping the American auto industry will remember to take what they are good at and blend it to what they have been negligent in incorporating.
This could be the start of something big.

On The Road--Traveling to Key West

I went on a road trip the other weekend. Now, there’s nothing I like better than a road trip—the feeling of moving forward—the strange food in little known restaurants—the different landscapes—different demographics—the radio stations—the shops, the groceries, the dives. It’s addicting, this seeing how other people live, seeing what they think is ‘necessary’ to them, and what level of ‘necessary’ is required.

This trip was to Key West. For those of you who haven’t been, it’s definitely a destination you should put on your list. But it’s not the destination of Key West, that final point at the end of the continental U.S with the galleries and restaurants and Mallory Pier at sunset, that is important. It’s the journey getting there. And what happens to you on that journey.

The first Key in line is Key Largo. It still has many of the amenities you’d find near Miami proper. But it is also full of dive shops and dive charters that serve those who want to experience some of the best diving and snorkeling opportunities in the nation. It is here that you will begin to feel like the mainland is far behind. Your tidy home, your serious job, is behind you--somewhere. You will begin to get sun-streaked and wind-blown, and all those things you thought were so important to worry about suddenly don’t seem very important at all.

The next key you hit on your drive is Islamorada, home of many of the famous Keys fish tournaments. The entire key is all about fishing, boating, diving, and water sports. Though there are plenty of comforts in Islamorada, they are all outdoor-centered. The turquoise waters of the Keys will be your home for the rest of your visit. Even if you aren’t an avid fisherman, you will still become a creature of the water. Lying on beaches, photographing the water and boats, watching the sea birds. You may come off the water—shower—change—go to a nice restaurant—visit a shop or gallery--but the conversation is all about what was done on the water, or what will be done tomorrow on the water.

Marathon is your next city on the road to Key West. It is the last big city you will see for a while, so if you need to provision your trip, do it Marathon. Marathon has an airport, charters, resorts, restaurants—everything to make you comfortable. But even here, it’s all about the water. Getting back on the water--information about the water—the weather—the fishing—the diving.

By the time you get on 7-Mile Bridge on Big Pine Key just south of Marathon, you will have made the transformation. You don’t dress up anymore. A tee shirt and shorts—usually over your swimsuit—is your uniform. You don’t comb your hair anymore. You don’t wear make-up. There doesn’t seem to be a point to these things anymore. People aren’t looking at you, they aren’t judging you, and they aren’t comparing you. They are thinking about the water. Where to swim. The best fishing spot. What boat rental to go to. Where to grab a sandwich to bring on board. Sunscreen will be tucked into your pocket. A rumpled hat will be on your head. You keep a tight hold on your sunglasses. That’s all that seems important.

By the time you reach Key West, it’s like another country. You have made the break with the mainland, not only physically, but emotionally. You have surrendered to a hedonism of the most primitive kind. You roll into town, surprised and blinking at the bustle and crowds of tourists. You reluctantly consent to town life—only temporarily—waiting to get back to the waterlife that has became a part of you. You visit the galleries and bars, you sit in waterfront restaurants eating fine food. You see the nightly show at Mallory Pier. You visit the shops and buy fudge and souvenirs and tee shirts. But your heart is back on the water. And you find every possible excuse to get back to it.

And if you have any sense at all, you will follow your heart.

Whatever Happened To Small Business?

It’s funny, we’re not hearing a thing about how small business is doing in this dire economy. It’s as if small business—which was often described as ‘the engine for new jobs in our economy’—has suddenly dropped off the radar. And I suspect it is because small businesses are disappearing at a horrifying rate that they don’t want to tell us about.

You would think media would cover this all-important area of our economy, but the media is curiously silent. Media can go on endlessly about the dangers of swine flu, giving us more coverage than we’re ever going to need on that subject. Media can cover Nancy Pelosi’s feud with the CIA and the Republican Party for days on end, covering every little detail, every nuance, every conjecture—but not the state of small business in America. Media can give us all the latest poop (and I do mean poop) on Brangelina, Madonna’s adoption case, and Jon and Kate Plus Eight’s marital difficulties—but they can’t tell us how small business, the incubator of new jobs in our country, is doing.

What’s that about?

One can guess how small business is doing in the U.S. Consumers have rolled back their spending. Credit is tight or can’t be gotten at all—which means small business cannot get it to cover payrolls or material for upcoming jobs. Small business can’t get orders from larger companies either, because large industries have slowed down to a stop as well. Small business can’t do any hiring, because A) there’s no work for the new hires to do and B) small business is most likely still in the process of doing layoffs. Equity in homes, which often financed new businesses, has disappeared, so the start-up of new business is being hampered by the mortgage crisis and falling home prices. Small business is probably living on whatever credit they have left, which will require paying off in the future, so don’t expect any big gains there any time soon. Oh, and btw, small businesses can’t afford health insurance. With whatever customers they do have left pressuring them for rock-bottom pricing, there’s little money in there for the constantly rising costs of health insurance. So, if they do start hiring again, it will probably be jobs without health insurance.

I know this sounds negative. But this is reality. We spent too many years being told ‘the fundamentals of the economy are sound’ and running our lives as if that were actually true. That lie kept us from arranging our lives into more reasonable and realistic form, and cripples us now.

Small business is probably taking some of the biggest hits from the bad judgment and delusional thinking of the past 8 years. At least, that’s what I see in my little area, which is among the hardest hit.
Let’s hope somebody finally notices that small business needs a leg up, too--like the bailouts we are giving the big guys.

Healthcare and the Great Republican Listening Tour 2009

First, let it be said that healthcare costs are killing small business. There’s no way small business can manage to cover its employees and make a profit. It simply can’t be done, for the most part, and it’s difficult enough for any small business entrepreneur to cover him or herself and family. If the businessperson happens to be over the age of 50, then the problem is magnified about 10-fold. If the businessperson happens to have one of those ‘pre-existing conditions’ magnify it again.

Because it is unlikely that anyone who is self-employed will be able to qualify for any state-assistance program, that over-50 or pre-existing-conditioned business owner will likely go without health insurance at some point. His or her employees will also go without it, also, because individual policies are obscenely expensive. So we have an entire class of people—small business owners and their employees—that are in chronic jeopardy of being without insurance. They will get sick, however, and will add to the rolls of people who turn up at emergency rooms getting the most expensive type of healthcare that adds to the cost of health insurance for those who DO get insurance through their employers. It’s a circle that has as yet been unbroken by any ‘ideas’ offered by political parties.

Which brings us to the Republican Party and their efforts to provide—or rather not provide—basic healthcare for the American people. If you have observed them as carefully as I have over the years, you can’t help but notice that they are alarmingly cavalier about this issue. Their best effort has been to offer ‘health savings accounts’ which as essentially catastrophic plans with big deductibles that many STILL cannot afford, even though these policies with their big outlay of personal savings for the deductible has contributed mightily to bankruptcies among the middle class. They know this—and still they do nothing. They do worse than nothing—they obstruct those who ARE trying to provide health coverage for Americans. And rest assured, with the big lay-offs this country has seen, even more people are doing without healthcare. As many as 9 million more. That means that these people are also contributing to the high cost of premiums for everyone with their use of emergency room care. Let the circle be unbroken, by and by, Lord.
So now, we see Eric Cantor and the Great Republican Listening Tour 2009 spouting a lot of ‘focus-group-tested’ feel-good words to bamboozle us into thinking they are actually committed to doing something about our healthcare crisis—words like ‘cost savings,’ and ‘keeping your own doctors,’ and ‘our high quality of care’—words that are specifically designed to lead people around emotionally. I’m offended. The time for political manipulation has passed. It worked for Republicans for some time, but it left our country even worse off than before. And I’m holding them accountable for it.

Thoughts on Torture

Okay, I have to tackle this subject. Sure there’s been way too much said about it, but I will have to add my two cents to the cacophony. Why? Because we can’t let this one go. We can’t just ‘keep walking’ as Peggy Noonan suggests, and not look back, in the hopes of having the whole ugly episode ‘just go away.’ It won’t. If we don’t expose it to the disinfectant of sunshine, some other party somewhere on the planet will—and that will leave us looking even worse.

You can read the torture memos yourself at:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/04/16/bush-torture-memos-releas_n_187867.html


It’s not pleasant reading. And it’s not pretty to think that our national leaders spent so much time parsing the details of what temperature of water was required to douse a prisoner with, for how long, before it actually became torture, nor whether having a physician and psychologist just standing there could assure there would be no lasting damage that would make it torture. The very fact that they studied the processes so closely and refined the details so exquisitely means they were dancing on the line—often wandering over that line, either by accident or design. It’s ugly to think about.

And there is Cheney. Now, I don’t have to add to the public dismay at the character of Cheney. All of that is obvious—it’s self-explanatory—from the lying on camera to push the war in Iraq—to the handwriting on the memo regarding Valerie Plame. It’s a dismal ‘legacy’ for Cheney to leave behind, and no doubt his progeny will have to bear the burden of it, because he surely doesn’t seem inclined to. That is his personal concern. It’s his personal conscience that he must live with, for now and throughout the ages. I wish him luck on it.

Let us just say that we can’t let this sleeping dog lie. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen. We can’t even pretend it wasn’t as bad as it clearly turned out to be. America is better than that. America is stronger than that. We can admit we were led astray. We can admit we were paralyzed with fear into inaction. We can even admit that we so wished it wasn’t true. All that is very human. What is inhuman—and inhumane—is that we knew, and did nothing about it once we knew.
That is beneath us. And I don’t believe Americans will tolerate it.

The Joy of Lint

For those who don’t know, Lintballing is the careful accumulation and nurturing of that stuff that comes out of your drier filter, that stuff that can make your life a living hell if not attended to, and which can be an element of endless creativity if you utilize it properly. Evidently, humans have made friends with dryer ‘fluff’ and have come to view its accumulation as art, as science, and as culture. Yes, this phenomenon has come to the fore at the very time when our lives are most insecure--when our jobs most threatened, our finances most pilfered, and our futures most uncertain. Lint has entered to save the day.

It started, as many things do, with a person in a chatroom.

A woman whose name will remain unblogged mentioned that she saved—that is to say, collected—the fluff from her dryer. She found that this dryer ‘fluff’ formed beautiful, intricate patterns when it was gathered together into artfully manipulated ‘balls’ that were both pleasing and satisfying. In what most of us would ordinarily overlook and discard, she had found beauty and Art.

When I first heard of it, it struck me so deeply that I wanted to participate in this ‘lintball phenomenon.’ I began collecting this fibrous output from my dryer filter, and it did, in fact, have wonderful bits of color that called to mind not only the clothing and material it came from, but the people and events that surrounded that clothing. And collecting this lint was a sensory experience as well. Smelling fresh from the fabric softener, and soft from the fluffing of the dryer, it was the kind of thing that made you put your nose right into it and savor the moment. But I soon found that collecting lint demanded a focus and dedication that I did not possess--well, not for lint, anyway. Houseguests came and treated the lint like so much garbage. And this caused a deep resentment for my guests that I otherwise would not have felt. They didn’t understand me AT ALL—they didn’t even KNOW me--and they sure didn’t respect my property. The nerve of these people.

It was after one of these occurrences when my carefully crafted lintball was thrown into the trash, that I began to see that my attachment to this collection of lint was perhaps not healthy. That is the hazard of lintballing—it is addictive and absorbing. So I tossed the lintball and stopped lintballing altogether. I’m not saying I don’t still have the craving, because the fact is, I still appreciate and caress the little woven sheets that come off my dryer filter (“Oh, that’s a nice one!” and “Look, there’s Mom’s sweater!”). I just don’t attach to the emotion anymore. I let it go. But I still retain an interest in lint in general, and communicate often with the woman who started the phenomenon, so that I can vicariously enjoy her collection.

To update:

Her lintball has grown to unmanageable proportion and she has decided to burn it, ritually, on a day and time meaningful to her. I find this not only fitting, but a decision that must be supported. Why, I don’t know. Lint is symbolic of something else, it seems. All that we throw away—all that we consume without thinking—all that we leave behind.

She decided on the June 21st, the beginning of summer. It was only then that she told me a story of a demanding, abusive husband, who pulled out the lint from the dryer and showed it to his wife with the words, “There—see how you waste our clothing?”

I knew that the woman who related this story to me had no tolerance for abusive men in any way, nor even women who allowed themselves to be abused. Yet, the story stuck in her mind. And it sticks in mine.

At this, I suggested that some Tori Amos music might be a suitable accompaniment for the lintball-burning ceremony. She agreed. We might even post the burning event on youtube. A ‘Burning Lintball,’ rather like the Burning Man event in Nevada—only with particular meaning for women. Announcements will be forthcoming.

This blog entry has gone on for too long, and I have no idea why. As I said, lint is symbolic of something else. A metaphor.
Consider it yourself, and see what it means to you.

The Rape of the Afghan Women

I don’t like to say stuff like ‘I told you so,’ but I told you so. We are now in cahoots with an Afghan government that is legalizing the rape of Afghani wives by their husbands, pretty much whenever they want. I don’t know what tenet of Sharia law this follows, nor in what passage in the Quran it is mentioned, but I’m pretty sure this just your garden-variety marginalization of women that that world has always been seen, throughout the history of mankind, especially in Muslim countries (usually on religious grounds). This means that not only are Americans sending their money to support an Afghan government that betrays women at the drop of a hat, we are also sending our soldiers to die for it. This is not cool, man. This is NOT okay.

I’m mad. And I’m mad not only in that ordinary ‘someone is pissing me off’ way, I’m mad in a political way, historical way. I’m mad for everything that has been done to women for someone else’s advantage, throughout time. I’m mad for every time anyone has ever said or thought, “It’s okay now—women have their rights and should pipe down.” I’m mad in a profound, visceral, all-encompassing way—because I do not intend to be complicit in ‘trading away’ the rights of women for certain alleged successes. That is not a ‘success.’ And it has been done habitually in the history of the world, and I won’t have a part in it.

We anticipate this happening in Iraq, too. The ascendancy of Sharia law will make it not only harder for women there to keep their rights, but for religious minorities, too. And we have blundered into it, losing 4270 of our soldiers to the ‘liberation of Iraq.’ And countless of innocent Iraqi lives, as well. Who—exactly—will be ‘liberated’? What are we to tell the families of those soldiers who were lost? That ‘they didn’t die in vain’? That their service was wholly ‘honorable’? How can we sustain that lie when a previously secular Iraq will now be demanding veils on women, and keeping them in their homes unless they have men to accompany them? What is ‘honorable’ about that? And you can’t say ‘well, we didn’t MEAN for that to happen’ when it was totally foreseeable, given the religious situation there.

So what do we have in these places that we have bumbled into with some testosterone-loaded plan to vanquish the ‘enemy’ that A) wasn’t in Iraq to begin with, and B) might have been in Afghanistan, but is now in Pakistan, and where we have in fact, helped to continue the oppression of women. We have a mess—that’s what we have. An unjustifiable, unholy, unfair, and undemocratic mess.

I do not hear Republicans taking responsibility for that mess. I do not hear this party that is so anxious for others to be ‘accountable’ for their actions actually being accountable for what they themselves have lockstepped in support of for the past 8 years. In fact, I hear a party that is STILL pushing the swaggering, macho ‘strong (if thoughtless) defense’ mentality that bungled us into these various messes. Well, I am not going to let them carry on as if nothing has happened. What happens to the women of the world may not be very important to them, but it is important to ME. And I will out them at every opportunity.

As is spoken from those who endured a previous hideous outrage of history: “Never again.”

Whenever we deal with countries whose entire cultural and historical pattern includes the oppression of women, we must tread carefully, so as not to entrench these grotesque patterns even further.
That is the very least a ‘democratic’ nation can do.

Intimacy & Boundaries

A situation happened recently that caused me to think about the inherent tension between the psychological need for intimacy, and the psychological need for boundaries. It's a subject close to my heart because I'm a big believer in boundaries. Ask anyone who knows me, they'll tell you I have strong boundaries (some might say 'walls'), and as for intimacy--well--I love having people around that I know well and who know me and accept me as I am.



But it seems to me there are a lot of people who are very reckless with boundaries--always asking very pointed questions about one's personal life, or giving advice on subjects so intimate they have no right treading there. Or else, they're telling you things that are way, way too much information to know about them. Or using your things in a 'what's yours is mine' sort of way. We all know the type, people who are in a big rush to be familiar when you don't know them very well. I really hate that--I hate being in the position of having to find a way to back off--and I hate feeling guilty about doing so.


Maybe it's me.

If you mention the idea of 'boundaries' these people will look at you like they've never heard of the concept before. Especially people in large families, they are so used to having people in their bubble, in their face, about every little thing that the idea of drawing boundaries seems cold and unfriendly, even hostile. Some families operate on the idea that familiarity gives them the right to intrude in almost any area of your life, and when faced with the outside world where boundaries are the order of the day, they find themselves feeling shut out and resentful, when they should feel respectful and appreciative at being informed of the limits of ongoing relationships.

I was one of those kids in kindergarten who had 'shares well with others' written on my report cards constantly. But at home, a different standard applies. My home is my castle, my fortress, my sanctuary. I am jealous of everything in it, its peace, its quiet, and its order, and I don't like people making themselves too much at home there. And the closer you get to my bedroom--the inner sanctum--the more those rules apply.

Yes, I realize there is a metaphor there. You can draw your own conclusions.

But I also believe that my fondness for drawing boundaries makes for easier, long-term relationships. You always know how far you can go, with me, and if you go further, rest assured you will be told so. Conversely, I am always on guard against transgressing anyone else's boundaries, and if I step across, you can be sure that I will have re-assessed the situation shortly, and won't do it again. This is how I am. I make no apologies for it.

But all this watching and reinforcing of boundaries takes a lot of energy, and I often wish I didn't have to do it. However, the way of the world is such that boundaries must guarded--fortresses must be protected.

On the other hand, I might just be overthinking the whole thing.

MySpace, Facebook, & Twitter--Social Networking for What Purpose?

I have yet to discover what good comes of social networking sites. So far, these sites have been time-suckers of major proportion to me. Maybe it’s a generational thing, and young people need a different technology than the one older people have managed to figure out, so that they can feel younger, hipper and more cutting edge. I don’t know.

I do know they use these sites to tell about themselves, express themselves, post outlandish pictures of themselves as if to prove that yes, they DO in fact exist and are having a wonderful time at it, too, thank you very much. Personally, I don’t want that much information about myself floating around the internet. I’m certain that my face will end up on a fabricated body on some porn site. Or I will earn myself a deranged stalker who will for some reason take a dislike to my dog and my cat, and I’ll find the poor creatures trussed up and baked on a platter on my back porch. Seriously, I worry about these things. The whole ‘opening oneself up’ is clearly inadvisable in these times. Just read the news.

Then, there’s the whole political whacko issue you have to worry about. I intend to keep speaking my mind on various venues, and you don’t know what kind of religious and/or political retribution you might incur from some zealot. That’s not paranoia—it’s realistic care, if you know something about those people.

The whole idea of a million degrees of online separation seems bizarre, too. I am connected with people everyone else knows, and everyone they know. The sheer statistics of the occurrence of psychosis in any given society makes this a bad idea at its core. What are we thinking?

And yet, if you have anything to sell, anything to promote, it’s advised that you get on Facebook or MySpace. The risks of rubbing shoulders (no matter how remotely) with unwashed masses have always come in second to the prospect of making money. So I’m out there. In a limited way. Expecting chaos the whole time.

That’s the lure of technology, isn’t it? You just can’t NOT do it when you know it’s out there. It’s the thing that keeps Microsoft pumping out operating platforms that don’t particularly work. It’s the thing that keeps McCain hiring staffers to twitter for him (and yes, we do know McCain and others do NOT send tweets themselves—that strains credulity a little too much). It’s the thing that makes us spend hours hunched over a keyboard trying to download programs, endlessly writing profiles, and keeping secret logbooks of our online user names and passwords.

What hath God wrought? To coin a phrase.

The best that can be expressed about these new ways of interacting was said by a family member, when I asked her what these social networking sites were for. She answered, “I think they’re just another way to send email.”

That, at least, I can grasp.

If anyone out there has found a good use for social networking sites beyond that, please let me know. Until then, it’s out there, and I use it.
I have no choice.

What Is This Thing Called 'Conservative'?

Okay, it has come to my attention that people are throwing the word ‘conservative’ around with abandon lately. I hate when people start throwing words around with abandon, without any respect to what the word means at its heart, in its beginnings, and without any care as to what other people mean when they apply it in actual use. It’s too easy to be dishonest with words—they are often slippery things—and I respect the power of words so much it really rubs me the wrong way when the use of words is used to drive people into misconceptions about themselves.

We are told often that most Americans consider themselves ‘conservative.’ Now, what are we to presume that means? That they wholeheartedly subscribe to the Conservative Agenda as currently stated by the far-right-driven Republican Party? I think not. ‘Conservative’ has a more subtle meaning in the minds of the bulk of the American public. It means ‘not going overboard.’ It means ‘spending money where it counts for the good of ALL citizens.’ It means ‘thinking carefully before taking action.’ It means ‘deeply considering facts before applying policy.’ It does NOT mean ‘blindly following a particular set of ideological points.’ Nor does it mean ‘promoting religious principles through legislation.’ Nor does it mean, ‘ignoring the poor of our country as if they are inherently unworthy.’

If anyone out there has a different idea of what MOST Americans think they are saying when they state they are ‘conservative,’ I’d really like to hear it. I get the feeling Republicans think that this is the handle they have on the public, this ‘conservative’ thing. They think it automatically means THEIR brand of ‘conservatism.’ And they carry on as if they can drive the public into being on their side by simply wielding the word ‘conservative,’ as if that alone can create the voting fervor needed to push their policies through. And in fact, that has worked to some extent in the past decade. That ‘driving the public’ put George Bush into office, and gave him a Republican congress, and the okay to appoint ideological judges to the Supreme Court. Unfortunately, this Republican brand of ‘conservatism’ has served the American public so badly that voters are wondering, themselves, what they mean by being ‘conservative.’

So Republicans just change the position of the goalposts. “Oh, it’s not THAT kind of conservative that we meant—that was just a mistake—a fluke of personnel—we meant this OTHER kind of conservative. The kind you really like—you know—like Reagan, for instance—he was nice—you liked him, right? Yeah, we meant to be THAT kind of conservative.”

I hear a manipulation in that rhetoric. And that suspicion of manipulation is upheld by Republicans’ complete unwillingness to change any of the points in their agenda. That tells me they’re using the classic ‘bait and switch’ tactic. Promise them one thing—give them another.

Or we hear the even worse: “We must be MORE conservative. We should conservative the heck out of everything, go full-out, whole-hog conservative. THAT’S what we meant to do. THAT will solve all our problems!”

That, too is a manipulation. It implies that their policies would work better if only they were done right. And of course, you must keep voting them into office to try to get it right. I don’t think so. The very last thing Americans want is doing something to an extreme, and the second to the last thing they want is trusting Republicans again.

Until Republicans learn to play fair with the public, the public will continue to hold them in contempt and with suspicion. The ball is entirely in their court. I am not terribly hopeful about it at the moment.

I believe America is stronger with two viable parties in its political debate. But the parties have to play fair—keep it real—and not use duplicitous methods to get into office and then run roughshod over the needs of the people. This is the first duty of government—to serve the public—without that, its purpose becomes diffuse and, more often than not, corrupt.

Let’s watch and see what Republicans do. It could be they will ‘evolve’ though they don’t believe in evolution. Maybe that evolution will occur in spite of their belief—as it does in the natural world. We’ll just have to see. In the meantime, their rhetoric is just so much background noise behind a president and a populace trying to solve real problems in the real world.

10,000 Hours

Malcolm Gladswell's recent book, The Outliers, postulates that it takes 10,000 hours to become successful at something. In his book, he cites several people who have become enormously successful because of this concentrated time learning their craft, whatever it may be.
10,000 hours.
The idea intrigues me--it's as if it's been simmering in the back of my brain for some time. The concept first came to me in reference to Bonnie Raitt, the blues stinger and guitarist. And you can say, 'Oh--Bonnie Raitt--well that doesn't seem like much of a measure of success.' But it is to me. Bonnie Raitt was as good as many of the blues guitarists I've heard. And I wondered how did she get that good. A girl! Didn't she spend all those hours pouring over beauty and style magazines like every other girl? Didn't she spend all her time on the phone with friends, dissecting the curious behavior of men? Didn't she spend all those hours in malls, finding that perfect dress that would make her life complete? Where DID she find the time to get that good on a guitar, and find and sing those songs of such profound meaning and relevance?
10,000 hours.
I KNEW it.
Of course, now I feel a fool. I should have been spending the 10,000 hours getting good at--well--whatever it is I wanted to get successful and famous at. And there's the rub. You have to have the overwhelming desire for something before you can get to the 10,000 hours. You have to love something THAT MUCH to put in the 10,000 hours. That is what I lacked--for a long time. I spent the 10,000 hours, instead, looking into lidded,blue eyes of the man I love--memorizing the curve of his cheek and the tone of his voice. I spent it listening to my children's voices as they read to me. I spent it memorizing the sound of their laughter in the other room. I spent it committing to memory the patterns of their thinking. I spent it taking my aging mother shopping. I spent it at family gatherings, listening to the same old stories. I spent it reading, hiking, kayaking, swimming, lying on the beach. Learning to make a gumbo. Taking my dogs for walks, brushing my cat's fur. I spent it working jobs I didn't care about. I spent it following politics.
I squandered the 10,000 hours like a drunken sailor on leave.
But things are different now. I'm dedicated to this writing thing. I'm obsessed with this writing thing. I write constantly--wildly--with abandon. I write about things, I write about nothing. I write, write, write, hoping something will come of it.
10,000 hours.
Perhaps I'll get good at it. Too soon to tell.
I'm only on the 4000th hour.

On Grooming

The whole metrosexual movement among men has really got me stumped. I like clean men, don't get me wrong--but men shouldn't be TOO clean. It's ungodly. It's unnatural. How can you trust a man that's always neat and tidy? How can he go hunt? How can you expect him to bring home the bloodied carcass of his prey? How can he fight the attackers? How can he possibly do the things a man is supposed to do if he's in the habit of obsessing about his appearance? I smell too much cologne on a man and I think 'salesman--be ready to say no.' But that's me. Maybe I'm just Old School.

Then, there are the women who also obsess about appearance, with products, and stylists, and clothing, and plastic surgery out the wazoo (am I mixing metaphors?). You cannot convince me that those women are spending an equal amount of time improving their inner selves as they are in redesigning their outer selves. Time alone doesn't allow it. Lives are busy and everyone sets their priorities.

And some might say, "Well, I have enough respect for myself to make sure I'm well groomed." I'm not talking about "well groomed." Everyone wants to be washed, and cut, and combed, and brushed, and wearing something crisp and flattering. I'm talking about that line that wanders into excess--that division that becomes self-absorbed neurosis and can even become psychosis. It's the excessive focus on the surface of things, and the neglect of all that is beneath the surface. This strikes me the reason for many of the bad decisions we as individuals, and as a society, often make. In seeing the surface alone, we agree to be easily fooled. We become like children, refusing to understand that life is complex and the true situation not always evident.

I know this all makes me sound like a bit of a slob. I'm not. I like pretty things. I like sweet-smeling things. I also like the truth. I also like real meaning.

I'm just wondering if appreciating those things is slowly going out of style. And if it is, what kind of world will we create?

The Lyrics of Scarborough Faire - Eternal Love? or He's Just Not That Into You?

I recently went to a Renaissance Faire. Now, I know what you're thinking, the whole Medieval Faire thing is totally for geeks--but I really had a good time there, what with the costumes and acrobats and jugglers and musicians. It got me thinking about the medieval song Scarborough Faire, made famous in our age by Simon and Garfunkel. Anyone who doesn't know the song should get hold of their version--and also get hold of the lyrics. It's said to be a song about lost love, and contains a riddle wherein the singer asks his lady love to perform various impossible tasks to prove her love for him.

I see something else. I see a guy making it difficult for a woman to make a claim on him.

Scarborough was a town on the coast of England where a huge, 45-day trade festival was once held during medieval times. People from all over England and Europe came to trade at this festival, and it is likely all sorts of men and women intermingled there. The parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme part? Those were herbs from the Mediterranean that were brought to Europe and England in the medieval period. The herbs no doubt figured largely in the trade goods at the Faire, because they had just become popular for medicinal and cooking uses.

So what I'm picturing is this young Englishman who comes some distance to the Faire at Scarborough. He meets a young woman at the Faire, and they...well....let's say, enjoy a moment. Maybe several moments--it was a 45-day Faire. Unsurprisingly, he returns home--with his 'parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme' and resumes his life. Perhaps later, people returning from the Faire tell him the woman is looking for him. He has no intention of returning to her, or having her come to him--so what does he do? He makes up a riddle for her to solve. Do these impossible things, then we can be together. He probably already has a wife and growing family by this time. The very last thing he wants is this one-time fling showing up in his well-ordered life.

'Then she's be a true love of mine.' Not that she IS, mind you. She 'will be.' Hmmm.

Bards went from town to town playing this song with its haunting melody, adding verses as circumstances and inspiration led them to it. But the basis stayed the same. The riddle, the promise that never comes true, the sense of remembrance.

It's not a tale of regret over lost love--it's a song of a past fling and the message, 'Don't come here.'

That's what I make of it. Read the lyrics and background and see what you get.

Parsely, sage, rosemary, and thyme.

More Than This - A Study of the Now

I bought the Roxy Music/Bryan Ferry cd to replace an old cassette. This tells you something about the music contained therein—how it fits into my life even after twenty years from its initial release—and how much meaning I find in the music. On the cd is a song written by Bryan Ferry titled, More Than This, and this song might be familiar to everyone as the one featured in the Sophia Coppola film, Lost in Translation, with Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson.

In the movie, Bill Murray, in a rather halting, broken-voiced, yet thoroughly charming manner sings the words:

I could feel at the time
there was no way of knowing
fallen leaves in the night
who can say where they’re blowing
as free as the wind
and hopefully learning
why the sea on the tide
has no way of turning

More then this--you know, there’s nothing
more than this-- tell me one thing
more than this--there’s nothing


Meanwhile, in the background the soft, synthesized melody punctuates the loneliness-induced attraction between Murray and Johansson.

More than this—there is nothing.

The very vagueness of the song leads one into a revery. It has a very smooth, easy melody. It speaks specifically of nothing, yet implies a great deal. Something is happening—but there are no words to really express the feeling. Just a vague description of the moment.

If ever a song can make you smile to yourself about some random moment of absolute existence it is this one. And the song makes you remember again the feeling of lightness, wholeness, and absoluteness of the experience.

Maslow, the psychologist, calls these random moments ‘peak experiences.’ And that is the name most of us know the experience by—moments with their own intrinsic value, disoriented in time and space, accompanied by a loss of fear, anxiety, doubts, and inhibitions. And moreover, it is said these moments are timeless, spaceless, and are even characterized by a sense of unity, in which the subject and object become one.

It almost sounds religious—and in fact, some refer to it as mystical experience. But it is more than that. It is self-affirming and self-justifying. It’s a moment says very clearly, “I am here”—rather like the ‘you are here’ signs at the mall—and all the preconceived self-definitions, all the experiences that have colluded and conspired to make you ‘you’ seem to be of little significance. ‘You’ are this moment. ‘You’ are a being that feels this moment, that feels this whole and this good. “You’ feel yourself at an essential level, without all the labeling, both self-imposed and external, and without even the crutch of time.

You are here.

I had this experience recently, driving down the road to Fort Myers Beach on a warm spring evening, with the sun setting over the beach to my right. More Than This was playing on the radio. The man I most truly love, and have loved for years, rode beside me. As I drove along, no thought troubled my mind. No old business plagued my happiness. No worries for the future clouded my enjoyment. It was just that moment, riding in the car, with the sun pouring light on me, and the music playing gently. Nothing else had to be said about it. Nothing else could be described about it. Just me and the synthesized beat of the song rocking my brain like a lullaby, and the time and place that seemed like perfection. The moment passed, and my life resumed as normal, but the moment changed my outlook in a subtle way.

More than this—there is nothing.

Moments like these are an invitation to unload old self-definitions. Whether we call ourselves wives, mothers, fathers, professionals, students, workers, betrayed, abused, abandoned, actualized--these are invitations to look over that list of self-defintion and choose the ones we want. Perhaps we want none of them, and we choose to start with a clean slate—a tabula rasa of who we are. That’s the beauty of being human, that ease of shedding skin to be whatever we choose to be.

The Obama Inauguration - America's Quantum Leap

Hard to describe how I feel about the first black president being inaugurated. I’m not black, so I can only vaguely understand how Black Americans feel, but I'm happy for them. I hope they know how so many whites hoped and worked for this moment in history—not just the people who walked alongside them during civil rights marches—but those people who worked every day since then, in their personal and political lives, to make ‘equal opportunity for all’ not just a slogan bandied about for self-glorification, but a real living ideal, and real living condition of American reality.

I always saw something authentic and capable in the man. And when he won, I rejoiced, not only for the Democratic policies that he espoused, but because I had begun to lose faith in elections. I thought maybe the right wing media propaganda was too ubiquitous and strong. I thought maybe white Americans were too self-serving. But there it was—Change with a capital C.

The inauguration itself proved that Change to be a real thing. People wished each other well, people of all kinds. In a split second, we shed the despair and exclusion of the Bush years and began to believe again—in our power as citizens, in our ideals as Americans, in our future as hard-working innovators. It was an amazing thing to see and feel.

The nay-sayers are already out in force, and Rush Limbaugh has already called on his listeners to thwart the new president, even before Obama has taken office. We can’t let them win. We have to call out the lies and the half-truths that pepper right wing media propaganda. We have to refuse to be swayed by self-interest alone, because we already know for sure now—that way lies madness. And we have to knuckle down to the hard work of setting our country to rights, without too much grumbling, and without too much comparing at any given moment. We can do this, I know it. I know it because I saw the 2 million people gathered on the mall, every one of them representing a tiny bit of energy and intention that could help put us right. And each of them represented thousands more of that same dedicated, forward-looking momentum that can overcome just about anything. Like a rogue wave. I saw that, and I knew. This isn’t just a trend of enthusiasm—this isn’t just a fever of the moment—this is WHO WE ARE. Though we were buried so deeply in divisiveness, fear, and negativity.

God bless President Obama, and his elegant wife who will give up so much of the family’s personal time in order to help our nation. God bless those beautiful little daughters of his, who embody all that we hope for our children’s’ futures. And God bless all Americans, for the spirit they possess, for the ideals they hold dear, and for the work they have accomplished and will accomplish to make our nation even greater in the future.

The Florida Economy--It Really Is That Bad

I live in Florida, and not even a very heavily populated part of Florida. Now, the big cities of Florida--as few and far between as they might be--might be hanging on in this troubled economy--I doubt it, because Florida is sustained by wealth that often comes from other places, and the wealth of many has been diminished on many fronts, and by many causes. Here in my little town, we are suffering. And I want people to know it. Here in my little town, the mortgage crisis and glut of foreclosed homes has hit new construction badly. In fact, it has stalled construction of residential properties altogether. Those who worked in and around the construction industry have found themselves without a job. Unemployment in my burg is officially 9.8%--but probably more. One in ten families are on food stamps. Food banks are seeing types of people they have never seen before, and their inventory is getting dangerously low. Homes sit empty, and cities are having to scramble to find SOMEONE responsible for their upkeep while in that limbo state between foreclosure and resale. And cuts are being made in the state budget of Florida that affect teachers, administrative workers, and other government services. In a word, it's bad here--very bad--and likely to get worse. Instead of seeing an increase in people retiring to Florida's sunshine, the state is seeing a drop, as those in colder areas of the country give up their dream of retiring in the sun. That means a smaller tax base, and less money for schools and services that would, in fact, draw even more people to Florida. We are snowballing downward in this state, and I don't see any turnaround for some time.

Those who doubt the value of a 'stimulus' for our economy should try living here for a while. We are NOT sustained by any government spending at the moment, and that's why we are heading into a downward spiral. There is no big-city-money and investing at the moment, and the people that live here are tightening belts and trying to help other family members that have found themselves in the economic doldrums of our time. That means even LESS money to sustain remaining businesses here, because the money will be tied up helping others. See the pattern? We have to get out of it somehow--not only here but in communities all across the nation.

I like to think of the nation's economy in the same way I think of my own. If a time of great trouble occurs, we may have to extend our credit in order to get through it, knowing all the while that it will put off some other dreams we had for the future, or re-arranging priorities to accommodate those dreams. We will have to do that as a nation, too. We may not be able to do the foreign aid we would have liked to prop up other governments. We might not be able to flex our military might as we are used to. We might not be able to 'take offense' whenever some tin-horn nation rattles a sword or lets out a cry in a threatening tone. We may have to remember our OWN goals and our OWN needs first.

Reality sucks--and we are waist-deep in it lately. Let's not listen to those making promises we know can't come true. And let's listen hard for the voices of reality--and sanity.