32 Marbles
Never be afraid to try something new. Remember, amateurs built the ark, professionals built the Titanic.
Unknown
It's kind of fun to do the impossible.
Walt Disney
Okay, so I’m not a flamenco dancer - it’s way harder than it looks with it’s syncopated rhythms. I know that if I kept it up, and became devoted, I would become more competent but with school and kids and work, I just want something that is fun. So after getting some of the basic moves down with a beginner lesson, I decided to move to a dance form that is less work and more play. Enter salsa.
There’s a salsa club near my work and some girls and I have gone dancing there a couple of times. I love the Latin music and despite not being dance floor ready, there have always been those generous leads that will take the time to dance with me. Occasionally there’s an exceptional lead who’ll be able to talk to my body and let it know what he wants it to do. The last time that happened, when I got back to my friend she said, “Wow, you looked amazing out there! I didn’t know you could salsa.” “Neither did I,” I answered. But there’s the magic of dance. Sometimes you can enter a zone where some other type of communication is going on that has nothing to do with counting and memorizing steps.
Here’s what else I noticed the first time I went into a salsa club. There were Latinas of all shapes, sizes, and ages and they exuded a sexy, playful energy. At first I felt like a scrawny white girl next to them, but then I realized that by being muy confortable in their skin they were showing me how to be comfortable in mine.
Is it time to examine what you’re doing for fun in your life? Is there anything you do just for fun?
The Matching Hypothesis
33 Marbles
I had a conversation with my son last night about a family friend. He told me that he didn’t really like the woman because he didn’t like where she was in her life and he would never want to be there himself. It made him uncomfortable to be around her. I asked him if it was possible to let her have the life that she created for herself and still remain open-hearted towards her? He could see that having compassion for her might be a good idea because, “She has a bad life.” But could he see that where she’s at had nothing to do with him so his discomfort, because he feared her life, was unwarranted?
I remember studying a theory in a human sexuality course about how we choose who is right for us. It was called the matching hypothesis - that we choose people who are similar to ourselves in physical attractiveness, level of education, religion, and race. Contrary to the old adage “Opposites attract” in a recent survey, 95% of Canadians chose partners from the same racial background as themselves. And even when you see an attractive woman with a less attractive spouse, people tend to ascribe other attributes to the husband (wealth, intellect, or an extra big Big Ben).
Is it possible that the matching hypothesis also applies to choosing our peeps? There are many of us who surround ourselves with people who are of similar socio-economic spheres and similar attractiveness. These friendships are generally based on having things in common, having similar beliefs, and enjoying the same pastimes. Being able to afford the same pastimes facilitates spending time together - disparities can create discomfort. According to a study by Ira Bernstein, “fear of rejection by more appealing people” motivates us to surround ourselves with people of the same ilk.
In Marble 350, I wrote about picking my kids up after school and how, post breakup, many of the other mother’s eyes averted when they looked at me. I had a sense that for some, their awkwardness was because they had trepidation about being in my shoes. It was uncomfortable to be around someone who was feeling loss or whose life seemed challenging or undesirable. Yet today, a “I saw you ad” caught my attention. It was written by a girl who was quietly crying on the bus on Christmas Eve because she broke her new iPhone and wouldn’t be able to call her family on Christmas day. She wrote, “This post is for the people who saw me, and not only didn't say anything, but gave me dirty looks and moved away. It would have been nice to have someone say ‘Hey, what's wrong? Are you ok?’ but it seems that was too much for you. I hope you feel alone and sad one day, and that someone takes the time to check in on you, so that you understand that human contact is not a bad thing.”
As humans, we tend to stratify and because “like attracts like” we tend to surround ourselves with comfortable connections. Perhaps, for my son, it is easier to surround himself with people who are where he sees himself going in his life - those with “good lives.” Yet I want my son to know that he has the freedom of choice to create the life that he wants. He also has the ability to allow others to create their lives while not shutting down because of what they’ve chosen.
Who do you have in your life? Do you tend to surround yourself with those of the same ilk? Are your peeps where you aspire to be? Do you surround yourself with those you view as less than yourself? Can you examine your reasons behind your choices?
I had a conversation with my son last night about a family friend. He told me that he didn’t really like the woman because he didn’t like where she was in her life and he would never want to be there himself. It made him uncomfortable to be around her. I asked him if it was possible to let her have the life that she created for herself and still remain open-hearted towards her? He could see that having compassion for her might be a good idea because, “She has a bad life.” But could he see that where she’s at had nothing to do with him so his discomfort, because he feared her life, was unwarranted?
I remember studying a theory in a human sexuality course about how we choose who is right for us. It was called the matching hypothesis - that we choose people who are similar to ourselves in physical attractiveness, level of education, religion, and race. Contrary to the old adage “Opposites attract” in a recent survey, 95% of Canadians chose partners from the same racial background as themselves. And even when you see an attractive woman with a less attractive spouse, people tend to ascribe other attributes to the husband (wealth, intellect, or an extra big Big Ben).
Is it possible that the matching hypothesis also applies to choosing our peeps? There are many of us who surround ourselves with people who are of similar socio-economic spheres and similar attractiveness. These friendships are generally based on having things in common, having similar beliefs, and enjoying the same pastimes. Being able to afford the same pastimes facilitates spending time together - disparities can create discomfort. According to a study by Ira Bernstein, “fear of rejection by more appealing people” motivates us to surround ourselves with people of the same ilk.
In Marble 350, I wrote about picking my kids up after school and how, post breakup, many of the other mother’s eyes averted when they looked at me. I had a sense that for some, their awkwardness was because they had trepidation about being in my shoes. It was uncomfortable to be around someone who was feeling loss or whose life seemed challenging or undesirable. Yet today, a “I saw you ad” caught my attention. It was written by a girl who was quietly crying on the bus on Christmas Eve because she broke her new iPhone and wouldn’t be able to call her family on Christmas day. She wrote, “This post is for the people who saw me, and not only didn't say anything, but gave me dirty looks and moved away. It would have been nice to have someone say ‘Hey, what's wrong? Are you ok?’ but it seems that was too much for you. I hope you feel alone and sad one day, and that someone takes the time to check in on you, so that you understand that human contact is not a bad thing.”
As humans, we tend to stratify and because “like attracts like” we tend to surround ourselves with comfortable connections. Perhaps, for my son, it is easier to surround himself with people who are where he sees himself going in his life - those with “good lives.” Yet I want my son to know that he has the freedom of choice to create the life that he wants. He also has the ability to allow others to create their lives while not shutting down because of what they’ve chosen.
Who do you have in your life? Do you tend to surround yourself with those of the same ilk? Are your peeps where you aspire to be? Do you surround yourself with those you view as less than yourself? Can you examine your reasons behind your choices?
Thermography
34 Marbles
In marble 293, I wrote about going in for a mammogram because of a lump I found on my breast. At the time, I was feeling very much alone - that nobody had my back. Luckily, the mammogram and the subsequent ultrasound both came back negative - nothing to be concerned about. More luck had it that 259 marbles later, I feel less like nobody has my back and more like I can stand on my own two feet.
Today I went in to my naturopath’s office for a breast thermograph - a non-invasive test to check the overall breast health. She scheduled me for the test because I had a history of recurring mastitis when I was breastfeeding my kids. She also knew about the non-threatening lump that was found earlier in the year and just wanted to check it out.
As I was sitting in the waiting room, I flipped through a magazine and noticed breasts being used to sell a great many products from lingerie to cars. Page after page, I noticed our fascination with cleavage…a woman’s breasts are generally for other people’s enjoyment from babies, to lovers, to strangers in the street. After my first son was born, I went to the grocery store and experienced, for the first time, a man talking to my chest. I didn’t know whether to bend my knees so I could establish eye contact or allow him to continue his conversation with my then humungous hooters.
My daughter is just entering adolescence and her breasts are starting to develop. Oddly, I don’t remember what it was like for me when I started developing, but I do remember my older sister and how she used to get attention when she wore tight t-shirts. I, however, kept my chest small with a combo of exercise, genetic sympathy and later, eating disorders. I find it slightly ironic that I now wear padded bras that make me look fuller (I know, false advertising).
So my breasts are tired of just hanging around and they’re asking for a bit of care this year.
What is your favorite part of your body? What is your least favorite body part? What would it take for you to love all of your body?
In marble 293, I wrote about going in for a mammogram because of a lump I found on my breast. At the time, I was feeling very much alone - that nobody had my back. Luckily, the mammogram and the subsequent ultrasound both came back negative - nothing to be concerned about. More luck had it that 259 marbles later, I feel less like nobody has my back and more like I can stand on my own two feet.
Today I went in to my naturopath’s office for a breast thermograph - a non-invasive test to check the overall breast health. She scheduled me for the test because I had a history of recurring mastitis when I was breastfeeding my kids. She also knew about the non-threatening lump that was found earlier in the year and just wanted to check it out.
As I was sitting in the waiting room, I flipped through a magazine and noticed breasts being used to sell a great many products from lingerie to cars. Page after page, I noticed our fascination with cleavage…a woman’s breasts are generally for other people’s enjoyment from babies, to lovers, to strangers in the street. After my first son was born, I went to the grocery store and experienced, for the first time, a man talking to my chest. I didn’t know whether to bend my knees so I could establish eye contact or allow him to continue his conversation with my then humungous hooters.
My daughter is just entering adolescence and her breasts are starting to develop. Oddly, I don’t remember what it was like for me when I started developing, but I do remember my older sister and how she used to get attention when she wore tight t-shirts. I, however, kept my chest small with a combo of exercise, genetic sympathy and later, eating disorders. I find it slightly ironic that I now wear padded bras that make me look fuller (I know, false advertising).
So my breasts are tired of just hanging around and they’re asking for a bit of care this year.
What is your favorite part of your body? What is your least favorite body part? What would it take for you to love all of your body?
Extinctions
35 Marbles
It’s post Christmas for me and it’s time to be more aware of where my money is going. Time to make a list of all the things that bring me joy but don’t require cash outlays. One of my favorite of these pastimes is listening to audio books from the library. Currently, I’m listening to Bill Bryson’s “A Short History of Nearly Everything.” It’s something that I may have fallen asleep to during high school, but twenty something years later, I find it fascinating (my kids, not so much).
Bryson describes our start as a single cell growing into bodies with 10,000 trillion cells, each with it’s own purpose, independent of our wills. Our bodies function without us having to schedule them - when we’re hurt or sick, our bodies move towards healing. There are so many things going on in my body outside of my control and somehow as a mother of three with a few balls in the air, this idea calms me.
I also take comfort in knowing that from a scientific standpoint it’s complete happenchance that we’re here as humans at all. In Bryson’s words, it’s only through, “timely extraterrestrial bangs and other random flukes.” But in that space between science and the world that I experience, I see a force shining through. The trick is to use this force to continue to create the life that I want to be living.
Another area that piqued my interest is the five extinctions that life on Earth have experienced. The question is, how did the remaining life survive after the extinctions? Perhaps by retreating to a safe place, by being aware, by making sure their offspring were okay, and by adjusting. And that’s how we all survive and thrive: by being able to adjust to change.
If a breakup is like an extinction of the life that was there before, how have you adjusted? What can you do to allow for more resilience to change? If you are thriving post-breakup, can you appreciate your adaptability? Can you acknowledge the happiness you’ve created in your life?
It’s post Christmas for me and it’s time to be more aware of where my money is going. Time to make a list of all the things that bring me joy but don’t require cash outlays. One of my favorite of these pastimes is listening to audio books from the library. Currently, I’m listening to Bill Bryson’s “A Short History of Nearly Everything.” It’s something that I may have fallen asleep to during high school, but twenty something years later, I find it fascinating (my kids, not so much).
Bryson describes our start as a single cell growing into bodies with 10,000 trillion cells, each with it’s own purpose, independent of our wills. Our bodies function without us having to schedule them - when we’re hurt or sick, our bodies move towards healing. There are so many things going on in my body outside of my control and somehow as a mother of three with a few balls in the air, this idea calms me.
I also take comfort in knowing that from a scientific standpoint it’s complete happenchance that we’re here as humans at all. In Bryson’s words, it’s only through, “timely extraterrestrial bangs and other random flukes.” But in that space between science and the world that I experience, I see a force shining through. The trick is to use this force to continue to create the life that I want to be living.
Another area that piqued my interest is the five extinctions that life on Earth have experienced. The question is, how did the remaining life survive after the extinctions? Perhaps by retreating to a safe place, by being aware, by making sure their offspring were okay, and by adjusting. And that’s how we all survive and thrive: by being able to adjust to change.
If a breakup is like an extinction of the life that was there before, how have you adjusted? What can you do to allow for more resilience to change? If you are thriving post-breakup, can you appreciate your adaptability? Can you acknowledge the happiness you’ve created in your life?
The Long and Winding Road
36 Marbles
Spending some time with Ex-man over the holidays has got me thinking about our relationship again. I fell in love with him when I was fifteen when he was playing the piano and singing “The Long and Winding Road.” I didn’t know then that the road would be so long and so windy and would include interim marriages, breakups, finding each other again. Little did I know that the road would eventually lead to a dead end.
Does anyone ever enter a relationship thinking that it will one day be over? Sure, there are some people who plan for the worst and get their prenuptials in order in case the relationship goes south. Perhaps those are the realists who look at the divorce stats that estimate that the lifelong probability of a marriage ending in divorce is 40-50%. But many people enter relationships optimistically, with the idea that the way they feel about their partner is the way they will always feel. But life is about change: life experiences can alter us, life circumstances can change us, or we can just grow apart. Love isn’t always elastic enough to adjust to change. And sometimes, no matter how hard we try, relationships are not meant to be “till death do us part.”
If I had known then what I know now, would I have let the young Ex-man be and taken the cue from his second song that night on the piano – “Let it Be”? Chances are not. Every detour has led me to where I am now and despite the fact that I can’t see right now where my road is taking me, I have three great traveling mates in my kids, two of whom wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t taken that particular long and windy road.
Would you have taken that road with your ex if you knew then what you know now? What are the positive outcomes of the relationship?
Spending some time with Ex-man over the holidays has got me thinking about our relationship again. I fell in love with him when I was fifteen when he was playing the piano and singing “The Long and Winding Road.” I didn’t know then that the road would be so long and so windy and would include interim marriages, breakups, finding each other again. Little did I know that the road would eventually lead to a dead end.
Does anyone ever enter a relationship thinking that it will one day be over? Sure, there are some people who plan for the worst and get their prenuptials in order in case the relationship goes south. Perhaps those are the realists who look at the divorce stats that estimate that the lifelong probability of a marriage ending in divorce is 40-50%. But many people enter relationships optimistically, with the idea that the way they feel about their partner is the way they will always feel. But life is about change: life experiences can alter us, life circumstances can change us, or we can just grow apart. Love isn’t always elastic enough to adjust to change. And sometimes, no matter how hard we try, relationships are not meant to be “till death do us part.”
If I had known then what I know now, would I have let the young Ex-man be and taken the cue from his second song that night on the piano – “Let it Be”? Chances are not. Every detour has led me to where I am now and despite the fact that I can’t see right now where my road is taking me, I have three great traveling mates in my kids, two of whom wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t taken that particular long and windy road.
Would you have taken that road with your ex if you knew then what you know now? What are the positive outcomes of the relationship?
Christmas Time is Here…
37 Marbles
…Happiness and cheer
Fun for all that children call
Their favorite time of year
Vince Guaraldi Trio
So yesterday was Christmas and Ex-man and I did our best to negotiate what would be best for the kids so they could enjoy their favorite time of year. On Christmas Eve we participated in our tradition of going to a friend’s restaurant and preparing food for the homeless shelters. Our kids are all old enough to come along and deliver the food and they loved spreading the Christmas spirit to those whose holidays weren’t so cheery.
After the delivery was done, Ex-man followed us back to our house where he slept outside in his camper. The kids didn’t want to have to wait for him to wake up, make his latte, get ready, and drive over for the present opening. The camper seemed like the perfect solution as it would allow him to stay up, watch a movie, and smoke (without bothering me) in his little home-away-from-home.
The new normal for this year involved us spending the day together and the evening at Ex-man’s sister’s house. Seeing as I didn’t have other family to spend Christmas dinner with, this worked out fine for me. His family has been in my life since I was fourteen and they have become part of my extended family. Since our kids didn’t want to have to split their time between us and Ex-man and I both wanted to be with the kids, this arrangement worked well for this year. It did feel a bit like “olden times and ancient rhymes” so next year I’m open to being more about moving on and creating a life with less of Ex-man in it.
If you have kids, have you managed to find the balance between doing what's good for them and doing what's right for you? How do you juggle breakups and the significance of holidays? If you do it with ease and grace, perhaps you'd like to share...
…Happiness and cheer
Fun for all that children call
Their favorite time of year
Vince Guaraldi Trio
So yesterday was Christmas and Ex-man and I did our best to negotiate what would be best for the kids so they could enjoy their favorite time of year. On Christmas Eve we participated in our tradition of going to a friend’s restaurant and preparing food for the homeless shelters. Our kids are all old enough to come along and deliver the food and they loved spreading the Christmas spirit to those whose holidays weren’t so cheery.
After the delivery was done, Ex-man followed us back to our house where he slept outside in his camper. The kids didn’t want to have to wait for him to wake up, make his latte, get ready, and drive over for the present opening. The camper seemed like the perfect solution as it would allow him to stay up, watch a movie, and smoke (without bothering me) in his little home-away-from-home.
The new normal for this year involved us spending the day together and the evening at Ex-man’s sister’s house. Seeing as I didn’t have other family to spend Christmas dinner with, this worked out fine for me. His family has been in my life since I was fourteen and they have become part of my extended family. Since our kids didn’t want to have to split their time between us and Ex-man and I both wanted to be with the kids, this arrangement worked well for this year. It did feel a bit like “olden times and ancient rhymes” so next year I’m open to being more about moving on and creating a life with less of Ex-man in it.
If you have kids, have you managed to find the balance between doing what's good for them and doing what's right for you? How do you juggle breakups and the significance of holidays? If you do it with ease and grace, perhaps you'd like to share...
Recycle your Love
38 Marbles
In Marble 74, I wrote about my bulletin board of cards, photos, and inspirational quotes. A few marbles later, while I was at work, a woman came and sat in my section wearing some major bling. As I was admiring it, it didn’t immediately register that it was the same bling that I had a photo of on my board. This was the jewelry that I loved when I saw it at a craft show about a year ago.
I told the woman who was wearing the jewels that I loved them. It turns out, she was the designer. As we talked, she told me that she had a “recycle your love” program in which she would take any old gold or silver jewelry and melt them down to create something new for a fraction of the price.
This sounded perfect for me - I loved her jewelry but didn’t really have the funds for it. I did have, however, an old ring of my mother’s with a setting that I didn’t care for. I also had some old baubles given to me in the "past lives" of old relationships that I didn’t really care to wear anymore. All of these items could be melted together and alchemically made into something that I loved.
The new ring is blingier than ever, but it’s something that I enjoy wearing. At once, it’s a symbol of my mother and where I came from and it’s a reminder how all the relationships that have come before have shaped me into who I am today. What I also know is that when I pass it down to my daughter, she will probably melt it down and make it into something that represents who she is. And so it goes.
Do you appreciate those who have helped shape you into who you are now? Do you take what they have given you and shape it into what is uniquely yours?
Check out Sonja Picard: http://www.sonjapicard.com/Collection/Recycle-Your-Love.aspx
In Marble 74, I wrote about my bulletin board of cards, photos, and inspirational quotes. A few marbles later, while I was at work, a woman came and sat in my section wearing some major bling. As I was admiring it, it didn’t immediately register that it was the same bling that I had a photo of on my board. This was the jewelry that I loved when I saw it at a craft show about a year ago.
I told the woman who was wearing the jewels that I loved them. It turns out, she was the designer. As we talked, she told me that she had a “recycle your love” program in which she would take any old gold or silver jewelry and melt them down to create something new for a fraction of the price.
This sounded perfect for me - I loved her jewelry but didn’t really have the funds for it. I did have, however, an old ring of my mother’s with a setting that I didn’t care for. I also had some old baubles given to me in the "past lives" of old relationships that I didn’t really care to wear anymore. All of these items could be melted together and alchemically made into something that I loved.
The new ring is blingier than ever, but it’s something that I enjoy wearing. At once, it’s a symbol of my mother and where I came from and it’s a reminder how all the relationships that have come before have shaped me into who I am today. What I also know is that when I pass it down to my daughter, she will probably melt it down and make it into something that represents who she is. And so it goes.
Do you appreciate those who have helped shape you into who you are now? Do you take what they have given you and shape it into what is uniquely yours?
Check out Sonja Picard: http://www.sonjapicard.com/Collection/Recycle-Your-Love.aspx
Fortune Cookies
39 Marbles
I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.
Hermann Hesse
Fortune cookies are one of my favorite ice-breakers: I sometimes bring them to a party, a dinner, or even an event line-up. It’s a great way to meet people and it’s always fun to see what the message is that’s tucked into the distinctly flavored cookie shell.
When I was in New Orleans, dude took me out to a classic American buffet, you know, one with fortune cookies. After dinner, he cracked his cookie shell and pulled out this message, “Let go now, yours will follow.” In hindsight, it was a curious message for a guy who had me on the go and another girl in the wings. Yet sometimes, fortune cookies can give you just the message that you need to hear.
Some of my most recent fortunes have been:
“Your hard work will be rewarded. Your labor is not in vain with the Lord.” - This one weirded me out as I had never known fortunes to get religious on me before.
“To get what you want, you must commit yourself for some time.” Good thing I’m known for my tenacity.
“A brown eyed stranger will be instrumental in your success.” Could you be more vague, Fortune Cookie? Over half the world’s population has brown eyes.
Despite fortune cookies being fun, I know that fortunes don’t really come wrapped in shells of distinctly flavored sweetness. We create our own fortunes, or lack thereof, with our beliefs and our actions. And although I welcome help along the way, the brown eyed person most instrumental in my success is me.
Do you take an active role in your life? Do you have a more passive view about your life? Can you have the balance of pursuing your desires while allowing the power of the universe to work in your favor? As Benjamin Franklin said, "He that waits upon fortune is never sure of a dinner."
One way to control fortunes is to bake your own fortune cookies. Tee hee.
Check out Martha’s fortune cookie recipe:
http://www.marthastewart.com/262421/fortune-cookies
I use a circular mold when spreading the dough. I also use parchment paper on the baking sheet.
I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.
Hermann Hesse
Fortune cookies are one of my favorite ice-breakers: I sometimes bring them to a party, a dinner, or even an event line-up. It’s a great way to meet people and it’s always fun to see what the message is that’s tucked into the distinctly flavored cookie shell.
When I was in New Orleans, dude took me out to a classic American buffet, you know, one with fortune cookies. After dinner, he cracked his cookie shell and pulled out this message, “Let go now, yours will follow.” In hindsight, it was a curious message for a guy who had me on the go and another girl in the wings. Yet sometimes, fortune cookies can give you just the message that you need to hear.
Some of my most recent fortunes have been:
“Your hard work will be rewarded. Your labor is not in vain with the Lord.” - This one weirded me out as I had never known fortunes to get religious on me before.
“To get what you want, you must commit yourself for some time.” Good thing I’m known for my tenacity.
“A brown eyed stranger will be instrumental in your success.” Could you be more vague, Fortune Cookie? Over half the world’s population has brown eyes.
Despite fortune cookies being fun, I know that fortunes don’t really come wrapped in shells of distinctly flavored sweetness. We create our own fortunes, or lack thereof, with our beliefs and our actions. And although I welcome help along the way, the brown eyed person most instrumental in my success is me.
Do you take an active role in your life? Do you have a more passive view about your life? Can you have the balance of pursuing your desires while allowing the power of the universe to work in your favor? As Benjamin Franklin said, "He that waits upon fortune is never sure of a dinner."
One way to control fortunes is to bake your own fortune cookies. Tee hee.
Check out Martha’s fortune cookie recipe:
http://www.marthastewart.com/262421/fortune-cookies
I use a circular mold when spreading the dough. I also use parchment paper on the baking sheet.
The Limo Guy
40 Marbles
Tonight when I went to work, a regular customer, who I haven’t seen for several months, came in and sat in my section. I had only ever seen him with his girlfriend and I asked where she was. He answered that she had been diagnosed with cancer and had died a month ago. I gave him my condolences and a couple of times throughout his dinner, he was teary and visibly sad. Near the end of his meal, there was a mistake at another table and an extra dessert was made. I noticed that it was the favorite dessert of my customer and his girlfriend. I brought it for my mourning customer and told him that his girlfriend must have arranged it.
I could tell that he appreciated the gesture but instead of thanking me, he asked me out. I was a bit shocked that he could go so quickly from crying on my shoulder to asking me out on a date so I stammered some lame excuse about dating someone who lives in New Orleans (not exactly the truth, but the best I could muster). He responded by telling me that long-distance relationships seldom work and then he handed me his business card. He owned a limo company and he told me that if I ever needed a limo, I could call him and he would hook me up.
Yikes! Was I really giving out that vibe? It seemed like the restaurant version of the Florence Nightingale effect in which the customer develops feelings for the caring server. Or was it just that he was emotionally messed up and probably shouldn’t have been heading out in public yet?
I know a breakup and a death are different, but they both involve loss. I remembered those first months at the beginning of the marbles when even having to be social in the schoolyard was a stretch. When I recalled that time, I was able to have more compassion for the limo guy who was obviously feeling lonely and bereft. He looked less like a guy trying to quickly replace his girlfriend and more like a guy who was trying to ease his pain. This I could understand… but the answer was still No.
Are you still feeling the loss of your relationship? If so, do you use other attractions to try to mitigate the feelings of loss? Is it better to try to get over the feelings of loss before making other connections?
Tonight when I went to work, a regular customer, who I haven’t seen for several months, came in and sat in my section. I had only ever seen him with his girlfriend and I asked where she was. He answered that she had been diagnosed with cancer and had died a month ago. I gave him my condolences and a couple of times throughout his dinner, he was teary and visibly sad. Near the end of his meal, there was a mistake at another table and an extra dessert was made. I noticed that it was the favorite dessert of my customer and his girlfriend. I brought it for my mourning customer and told him that his girlfriend must have arranged it.
I could tell that he appreciated the gesture but instead of thanking me, he asked me out. I was a bit shocked that he could go so quickly from crying on my shoulder to asking me out on a date so I stammered some lame excuse about dating someone who lives in New Orleans (not exactly the truth, but the best I could muster). He responded by telling me that long-distance relationships seldom work and then he handed me his business card. He owned a limo company and he told me that if I ever needed a limo, I could call him and he would hook me up.
Yikes! Was I really giving out that vibe? It seemed like the restaurant version of the Florence Nightingale effect in which the customer develops feelings for the caring server. Or was it just that he was emotionally messed up and probably shouldn’t have been heading out in public yet?
I know a breakup and a death are different, but they both involve loss. I remembered those first months at the beginning of the marbles when even having to be social in the schoolyard was a stretch. When I recalled that time, I was able to have more compassion for the limo guy who was obviously feeling lonely and bereft. He looked less like a guy trying to quickly replace his girlfriend and more like a guy who was trying to ease his pain. This I could understand… but the answer was still No.
Are you still feeling the loss of your relationship? If so, do you use other attractions to try to mitigate the feelings of loss? Is it better to try to get over the feelings of loss before making other connections?
The Tangled Triangle
41 Marbles
A girl can wait for the right man to come along but in the meantime that still doesn’t mean that she can’t have a wonderful time with all the wrong ones.
Cher
I’ve talked to dude a few times since I’ve been home from New Orleans. He wants me to come visit him again, come down for Mardi Gras. I said I’d think about it.
Today, however, I got a call from a Latina woman, dude’s friend from Costa Rica. Apparently she had surreptitiously garnered my number from dude’s phone and she called me to give me heck. I think she was expecting a fight from me but when I agreed with her that I shouldn’t be talking to him whilst she is visiting, she completely relaxed. Then she proceeded to warn me about him, “He’s a dog.” “Yeah, I got that,” I replied, “But we have an understanding.” She tried, “I know you have children. He wouldn’t be a good father.” Hmmm, I got that too but my kids already have a good father and she didn’t get that dude would never even meet my children.
She then gave me some details of my last day in New Orleans when dude was juggling both of us. There wasn’t a bone in my body that was jealous. I wasn’t her competition, just another one of his female friends with benefits. I apologized again and told her that I wouldn’t talk with dude until she was gone.
Then dude called, pissed off that she had phoned me. By that point I was annoyed with the tangled triangle and I told him we could talk when she had went home in a week or so.
I’ve never had a connection for which I’ve felt so much ambivalence.
I’d like to ask some profound question inspired by this marble, but at this point I’m still feeling around in the darkness of a blackout. The questions I’m asking are: When do you know you’re ready to have a new love in your life? Is it coincidental when the first person that comes along would never fit into your life? Is it a sign that you’re not truly ready?
A girl can wait for the right man to come along but in the meantime that still doesn’t mean that she can’t have a wonderful time with all the wrong ones.
Cher
I’ve talked to dude a few times since I’ve been home from New Orleans. He wants me to come visit him again, come down for Mardi Gras. I said I’d think about it.
Today, however, I got a call from a Latina woman, dude’s friend from Costa Rica. Apparently she had surreptitiously garnered my number from dude’s phone and she called me to give me heck. I think she was expecting a fight from me but when I agreed with her that I shouldn’t be talking to him whilst she is visiting, she completely relaxed. Then she proceeded to warn me about him, “He’s a dog.” “Yeah, I got that,” I replied, “But we have an understanding.” She tried, “I know you have children. He wouldn’t be a good father.” Hmmm, I got that too but my kids already have a good father and she didn’t get that dude would never even meet my children.
She then gave me some details of my last day in New Orleans when dude was juggling both of us. There wasn’t a bone in my body that was jealous. I wasn’t her competition, just another one of his female friends with benefits. I apologized again and told her that I wouldn’t talk with dude until she was gone.
Then dude called, pissed off that she had phoned me. By that point I was annoyed with the tangled triangle and I told him we could talk when she had went home in a week or so.
I’ve never had a connection for which I’ve felt so much ambivalence.
I’d like to ask some profound question inspired by this marble, but at this point I’m still feeling around in the darkness of a blackout. The questions I’m asking are: When do you know you’re ready to have a new love in your life? Is it coincidental when the first person that comes along would never fit into your life? Is it a sign that you’re not truly ready?
Making Space
42 Marbles
I'm going to do something annoying now that will rip you off of a marble while creating some space for all the marbles I've missed in December. I was away in Mexico with my not-so-new love interest, enjoying the sun, the sea, and the amazing warmth of the locals. I chose to be present and take some time off the marbles that require me to go back and edit work from that post-breakup year. When we returned, I was caught up in the festivities of the holiday season (the holiday being Christmas in my place in time and space).
The good news is that the love life is going very well. I was thinking this morning that "I couldn't be happier" but then I nixed that thought and decided to stay open for ever increasing amounts of happiness. When I look back at the time spent with Ex-man, it's hard to believe that I ever bought into the idea that relationships need to be that challenging. As Oprah says, "Love doesn't hurt."
As for the series that I was working on that marble year - it's still unfolding. There's a producer from LA that has it and is trying to create some interest. All I know is, "It just has to get into the right hands." Today I was encouraged when I read that it took Matthew Weiner seven years to sell Mad Men - one of the hottest series on TV.
And so, dear readers, I'm going to add some blank marbles in December that will allow me some extra time to catch up on the marbles I've missed. If I don't do this, It will look like December only had 22 marbles, and being slightly obsessive compulsive, this is something that I could not abide by.
For all of you that are following along, marble by marble, have a very Happy New Year and may your coming marbles be filled with love...
I'm going to do something annoying now that will rip you off of a marble while creating some space for all the marbles I've missed in December. I was away in Mexico with my not-so-new love interest, enjoying the sun, the sea, and the amazing warmth of the locals. I chose to be present and take some time off the marbles that require me to go back and edit work from that post-breakup year. When we returned, I was caught up in the festivities of the holiday season (the holiday being Christmas in my place in time and space).
The good news is that the love life is going very well. I was thinking this morning that "I couldn't be happier" but then I nixed that thought and decided to stay open for ever increasing amounts of happiness. When I look back at the time spent with Ex-man, it's hard to believe that I ever bought into the idea that relationships need to be that challenging. As Oprah says, "Love doesn't hurt."
As for the series that I was working on that marble year - it's still unfolding. There's a producer from LA that has it and is trying to create some interest. All I know is, "It just has to get into the right hands." Today I was encouraged when I read that it took Matthew Weiner seven years to sell Mad Men - one of the hottest series on TV.
And so, dear readers, I'm going to add some blank marbles in December that will allow me some extra time to catch up on the marbles I've missed. If I don't do this, It will look like December only had 22 marbles, and being slightly obsessive compulsive, this is something that I could not abide by.
For all of you that are following along, marble by marble, have a very Happy New Year and may your coming marbles be filled with love...
Poor Wizard
43 Marbles
Become open to receiving guidance and insight through your dreams.
Carolyn Myss "Anatomy of the Spirit"
If you only do what you know you can do- you never do very much.
Tom Krause
I had a dream last night that I was standing under a live Oak Tree with it’s Spanish moss swaying in the night wind. This is the type of magical tree that I fell in love with when I was in New Orleans and in my dream I was back in the South, feeling my senses completely awake. Then I was standing in line for a roller-coaster ride. As I looked around me, there were men and women executives coming out of a meeting. They came over to me and I introduced myself to them. One of the men said, “Oh, you’re the creator.” I knew they were talking about the burlesque series that I’m working on. I said, “Yes, I am.” He replied, “Poor wizard.”
In my dream, I never doubted that the series had been picked up and I would go on the roller-coaster ride of having my work produced. But why the “Poor Wizard?”
In her book, Anatomy of the Spirit, Carolyn Myss describes using dreams as a way to develop symbolic sight. In this dream I could clearly see, feel, and sense my work being produced but the cryptic poor wizard at the end of the dream has me baffled. Perhaps it’s the “Be careful what you wish for” warning. There’s a hilarious show called Episodes about a British couple whose series gets picked up by an American network and turned into a monster completely unlike the one that they created. Is this what it means to be a poor wizard?
What I know for sure is that my experiences in New Orleans were rich in magic. I met New Orleans when we were in similar places - my life was a bit topsy-turvy after the breakup of a relationship that spanned three decades, New Orleans was still reeling from the devastation of a hurricane. Both of us were negotiating what our new normals would be. But New Orleans, with its “Laissez les bon temps rouler” attitude reminded me to have fun and enjoy life, every moment that I'm breathing.
There’s a Greek song that goes, “Enjoy your life, you only take two meters in the earth.” What can you do to enjoy your life, every moment you’re breathing?
Become open to receiving guidance and insight through your dreams.
Carolyn Myss "Anatomy of the Spirit"
If you only do what you know you can do- you never do very much.
Tom Krause
I had a dream last night that I was standing under a live Oak Tree with it’s Spanish moss swaying in the night wind. This is the type of magical tree that I fell in love with when I was in New Orleans and in my dream I was back in the South, feeling my senses completely awake. Then I was standing in line for a roller-coaster ride. As I looked around me, there were men and women executives coming out of a meeting. They came over to me and I introduced myself to them. One of the men said, “Oh, you’re the creator.” I knew they were talking about the burlesque series that I’m working on. I said, “Yes, I am.” He replied, “Poor wizard.”
In my dream, I never doubted that the series had been picked up and I would go on the roller-coaster ride of having my work produced. But why the “Poor Wizard?”
In her book, Anatomy of the Spirit, Carolyn Myss describes using dreams as a way to develop symbolic sight. In this dream I could clearly see, feel, and sense my work being produced but the cryptic poor wizard at the end of the dream has me baffled. Perhaps it’s the “Be careful what you wish for” warning. There’s a hilarious show called Episodes about a British couple whose series gets picked up by an American network and turned into a monster completely unlike the one that they created. Is this what it means to be a poor wizard?
What I know for sure is that my experiences in New Orleans were rich in magic. I met New Orleans when we were in similar places - my life was a bit topsy-turvy after the breakup of a relationship that spanned three decades, New Orleans was still reeling from the devastation of a hurricane. Both of us were negotiating what our new normals would be. But New Orleans, with its “Laissez les bon temps rouler” attitude reminded me to have fun and enjoy life, every moment that I'm breathing.
There’s a Greek song that goes, “Enjoy your life, you only take two meters in the earth.” What can you do to enjoy your life, every moment you’re breathing?
It Starts with the Shoes
44 Marbles
The magician understands grace . .. knows those moments when they feel as if they are flowing with the universe and everything is going right.
Carol S. Pearson “The Hero’s Journey”
I had a breakthrough with my script today. My sister sent me a DVD with photos of our parents set to music and the first song was Mahalia Jackson’s “Walk Over God’s Heaven.” It begins, “I got shoes, you got shoes, all of God’s children got shoes, my Lord…” As soon as I heard the song, I knew it was the song for the teaser of the pilot. I saw the first scene clearly and I began writing, “It starts with the shoes…” I found my way into the story.
I asked an actor friend of mine to read this draft and she loved the new beginning. She told me that often when she’s searching for a way into her characters, she puts their shoes on and somehow she finds the inspiration she needs.
I did a bit of research into Mahalia Jackson and it turns out that she was from New Orleans, the place where the series is set. She also recorded the song in the same era as the opening scene. Sometimes life’s synchronicity amazes me and when it does, I’m extra conscious to say a big thanks for those moments of flow when everything is going right.
Do you notice grace in your life? Do you appreciate when things are flowing and everything is going right? Do you know that you are the magician of your life?
The magician understands grace . .. knows those moments when they feel as if they are flowing with the universe and everything is going right.
Carol S. Pearson “The Hero’s Journey”
I had a breakthrough with my script today. My sister sent me a DVD with photos of our parents set to music and the first song was Mahalia Jackson’s “Walk Over God’s Heaven.” It begins, “I got shoes, you got shoes, all of God’s children got shoes, my Lord…” As soon as I heard the song, I knew it was the song for the teaser of the pilot. I saw the first scene clearly and I began writing, “It starts with the shoes…” I found my way into the story.
I asked an actor friend of mine to read this draft and she loved the new beginning. She told me that often when she’s searching for a way into her characters, she puts their shoes on and somehow she finds the inspiration she needs.
I did a bit of research into Mahalia Jackson and it turns out that she was from New Orleans, the place where the series is set. She also recorded the song in the same era as the opening scene. Sometimes life’s synchronicity amazes me and when it does, I’m extra conscious to say a big thanks for those moments of flow when everything is going right.
Do you notice grace in your life? Do you appreciate when things are flowing and everything is going right? Do you know that you are the magician of your life?
Editing
45 Marbles
More than a half, maybe as much as two-thirds of my life as a writer is rewriting. I wouldn't say I have a talent that's special. It strikes me that I have an unusual kind of stamina.
John Irving
I’m working on another rewrite of Burlesque Palace. The editor who I've hired says that I have to make the series more edgy, take it into the dark side, let the characters scrape their knees. I thought I was doing that but she returned it to me with the comment that I was still playing it too safe.
Before I started my next rewrite, I sat in my bath and had a good cry. I apologized to the characters and told them that I was sorry that their lives were about to get difficult. I was sorry that s*** was going to hit the fan but that they would be okay in the end - actually, I couldn’t even guarantee that. When I told the editor about my sadness and reluctance, she told me that it was a good sign that I was not only writing the story but I was feeling it. As Robert Frost wrote, “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.”
The editor asked me, “You do know that your main character can be flawed and still be loveable, don’t you?” I stopped before I answered. It was a tough question. Sure, logically I knew that flawed characters could be loveable, but heck, I’m a Canadian. We pride ourselves in being nice.
I thought about my relationship with Ex-man. It felt to me that his x-ray vision was often focused on my faults - my whole self was never celebrated. It felt like because I wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t completely likeable to him (and perhaps he felt the same).
Where those seeds germinated within myself? Where did I get the idea that you have to be perfect to be loved? I was baptized and apparently cleansed from my “original” sin. But this rite of passage focuses on sin. What if I was completely whole, likeable, and loveable from the moment I was born? What if I was before I was born?
Then I thought of dude from New Orleans – in many ways flawed but also completely loveable. Maybe that was one of his lessons to me. You don’t need to be “good” to be loved. You don’t need to be perfect to be loved. In fact, maybe this was one of the lessons of the 365 marbles was really about. We’re all human and we’re all imperfectly perfectly loveable.
Do you know that you are completely loveable?
More than a half, maybe as much as two-thirds of my life as a writer is rewriting. I wouldn't say I have a talent that's special. It strikes me that I have an unusual kind of stamina.
John Irving
I’m working on another rewrite of Burlesque Palace. The editor who I've hired says that I have to make the series more edgy, take it into the dark side, let the characters scrape their knees. I thought I was doing that but she returned it to me with the comment that I was still playing it too safe.
Before I started my next rewrite, I sat in my bath and had a good cry. I apologized to the characters and told them that I was sorry that their lives were about to get difficult. I was sorry that s*** was going to hit the fan but that they would be okay in the end - actually, I couldn’t even guarantee that. When I told the editor about my sadness and reluctance, she told me that it was a good sign that I was not only writing the story but I was feeling it. As Robert Frost wrote, “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.”
The editor asked me, “You do know that your main character can be flawed and still be loveable, don’t you?” I stopped before I answered. It was a tough question. Sure, logically I knew that flawed characters could be loveable, but heck, I’m a Canadian. We pride ourselves in being nice.
I thought about my relationship with Ex-man. It felt to me that his x-ray vision was often focused on my faults - my whole self was never celebrated. It felt like because I wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t completely likeable to him (and perhaps he felt the same).
Where those seeds germinated within myself? Where did I get the idea that you have to be perfect to be loved? I was baptized and apparently cleansed from my “original” sin. But this rite of passage focuses on sin. What if I was completely whole, likeable, and loveable from the moment I was born? What if I was before I was born?
Then I thought of dude from New Orleans – in many ways flawed but also completely loveable. Maybe that was one of his lessons to me. You don’t need to be “good” to be loved. You don’t need to be perfect to be loved. In fact, maybe this was one of the lessons of the 365 marbles was really about. We’re all human and we’re all imperfectly perfectly loveable.
Do you know that you are completely loveable?
Intentions
46 Marbles
I’ve been thinking a lot about intentions because I believe that they are über important. By definition, intentions are the aim that guides action, or the objective behind an action. When I started digging at my intentions for writing Burlesque Palace, this is what I found:
Intentions are also important when it comes to relationships. It used to be the standard question that a father would ask when a young man came courting, “What are your intentions for my daughter?” It makes me wonder what my intentions were with Ex-man. This still seem a bit hazy to me. What would happen if I had clearer intentions in my next relationship?
What are your intentions for your next relationship? Do you have clear intentions for your work? If you have children, do you have clear intentions for your family? If not, you may end up recreating what's already been done or what you've experienced in the past.
I’ve been thinking a lot about intentions because I believe that they are über important. By definition, intentions are the aim that guides action, or the objective behind an action. When I started digging at my intentions for writing Burlesque Palace, this is what I found:
- To entertain while supporting my family with my writing. To be recognized for my writing
- To create a sultry, erotic show targeted to women and their lovers - to invite more women to access their sexuality and become empowered by it
- To highlight New Orleans so that others can fall in love with it as I have, and to steep the series with the intense life and character that I experienced with the locals
- To rejuvenate the history of burlesque and to connect it to neo-burlesque,
- To aid the burlesque community by offering alternative income-earning platforms on the series such as cameo performances, costume design, etc.
- To allow the karmic wheel to come full circle. One of the major reasons burlesque died was because of television. To introduce burlesque to a wider audience using television would be a full circle moment.
Intentions are also important when it comes to relationships. It used to be the standard question that a father would ask when a young man came courting, “What are your intentions for my daughter?” It makes me wonder what my intentions were with Ex-man. This still seem a bit hazy to me. What would happen if I had clearer intentions in my next relationship?
What are your intentions for your next relationship? Do you have clear intentions for your work? If you have children, do you have clear intentions for your family? If not, you may end up recreating what's already been done or what you've experienced in the past.
It all Started with a Fight
47 Marbles
You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it true. You may have to work for it, however.
Richard Bach
It all started with an argument with Ex-man and before I knew it I was researching and writing a series that I call Burlesque Palace.
I used to come home from work on Friday nights to find Ex-man watching a show on cable TV. It was an erotic show, lots of flesh, good lighting and nubile bodies. It wasn’t porn - it was a dramatic series with erotic leanings. I tried to sit down and watch it with him but the script made my ears bleed, almost literally.
I often wondered who the series was targeted towards - most men just watch porn if they want to see naked bodies. But if the series was for women, many women like a good story (a little intellectual foreplay). I said to Ex-man, “Why isn’t there a sexy series on TV with good stories and a good script?” He said, “What about Sex and the City?” “Yeah,” I said, “But a little more actual sex in the city.”
His friend joined in the fray one night and they claimed that there were shows like I was describing on TV. When I asked them to name the shows, they couldn’t. As guys, they were wired differently so perhaps they didn’t really know what I was talking about. The more they resisted my idea, the more I knew that I would create such a show.
When I went to my first burlesque show a few months later, I knew I’d found my way in. Burlesque Palace is a series of women’s stories - three generations of French Quarter women and whereas in many series, the women revolve around the men’s stories, in the world of Burlesque Palace, the women are central.
Throughout history, some of the most monumental inceptions have been the result of differences in opinion (new countries, new religions, great art). When you have those moments when your thoughts veer from the pack, can you view it as an opportunity to create something different for yourself? Your family? Your world?
You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it true. You may have to work for it, however.
Richard Bach
It all started with an argument with Ex-man and before I knew it I was researching and writing a series that I call Burlesque Palace.
I used to come home from work on Friday nights to find Ex-man watching a show on cable TV. It was an erotic show, lots of flesh, good lighting and nubile bodies. It wasn’t porn - it was a dramatic series with erotic leanings. I tried to sit down and watch it with him but the script made my ears bleed, almost literally.
I often wondered who the series was targeted towards - most men just watch porn if they want to see naked bodies. But if the series was for women, many women like a good story (a little intellectual foreplay). I said to Ex-man, “Why isn’t there a sexy series on TV with good stories and a good script?” He said, “What about Sex and the City?” “Yeah,” I said, “But a little more actual sex in the city.”
His friend joined in the fray one night and they claimed that there were shows like I was describing on TV. When I asked them to name the shows, they couldn’t. As guys, they were wired differently so perhaps they didn’t really know what I was talking about. The more they resisted my idea, the more I knew that I would create such a show.
When I went to my first burlesque show a few months later, I knew I’d found my way in. Burlesque Palace is a series of women’s stories - three generations of French Quarter women and whereas in many series, the women revolve around the men’s stories, in the world of Burlesque Palace, the women are central.
Throughout history, some of the most monumental inceptions have been the result of differences in opinion (new countries, new religions, great art). When you have those moments when your thoughts veer from the pack, can you view it as an opportunity to create something different for yourself? Your family? Your world?
Blackout
48 Marbles
I wake up in the middle of the night to a blackout. I don’t have a candle or a flashlight handy but my cell phone tells me it’s just after 4 am. I call dude to tell him that I love him for his cleverness, generosity, and sense of humor. He shared himself with me at a time when I needed those attributes. He also taught me to have fun without feeling guilty for it. I accept who he is, and I don’t want him to change but I also know that who he is means that we won’t have a future together. This is discernment, but for now I put aside the third act and decide to live in the moment.
Is it really okay to have a wonderful time with the wrong guy while you’re waiting to meet the right guy? I’ve never made that choice before. I’ve always dated “good guys” and even though it didn’t work out with Ex-man and me, he was still a good person - we were just a bad combination.
I do have the feeling that I’m trying to see my way through the dark so maybe the blackout wasn’t a coincidence. I said dude taught me to have fun without feeling guilty for it, but I do feel guilty. I feel guilty that I called him when he has a woman there visiting him and while he assures me that she is not his girlfriend (more a friend with benefits), I know that I’m not giving her space. And the fact that I don't feel a bit of jealousy is probably telling.
So why don’t I just let it be a fun travel tryst and leave it in the past? I know that my story with dude isn’t quite done. In the meantime, I'll do exactly what I did in the middle of the night - sit tight and wait for the power to go back on.
Do you ever have blackout moments when you can't see? Can you wait out the blackout, knowing that clarity will come?
I wake up in the middle of the night to a blackout. I don’t have a candle or a flashlight handy but my cell phone tells me it’s just after 4 am. I call dude to tell him that I love him for his cleverness, generosity, and sense of humor. He shared himself with me at a time when I needed those attributes. He also taught me to have fun without feeling guilty for it. I accept who he is, and I don’t want him to change but I also know that who he is means that we won’t have a future together. This is discernment, but for now I put aside the third act and decide to live in the moment.
Is it really okay to have a wonderful time with the wrong guy while you’re waiting to meet the right guy? I’ve never made that choice before. I’ve always dated “good guys” and even though it didn’t work out with Ex-man and me, he was still a good person - we were just a bad combination.
I do have the feeling that I’m trying to see my way through the dark so maybe the blackout wasn’t a coincidence. I said dude taught me to have fun without feeling guilty for it, but I do feel guilty. I feel guilty that I called him when he has a woman there visiting him and while he assures me that she is not his girlfriend (more a friend with benefits), I know that I’m not giving her space. And the fact that I don't feel a bit of jealousy is probably telling.
So why don’t I just let it be a fun travel tryst and leave it in the past? I know that my story with dude isn’t quite done. In the meantime, I'll do exactly what I did in the middle of the night - sit tight and wait for the power to go back on.
Do you ever have blackout moments when you can't see? Can you wait out the blackout, knowing that clarity will come?
Home Safe Home
49 Marbles
Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.
Benjamin Franklin
Ex-man and the kids picked me up from the airport last night and the kids came back to my house with me. It was so good to be home and get back into our routine. I missed them while I was away. I missed being a Mom.
Today, when they were at school, dude in New Orleans called. He said he wanted to be with me. I told him that it’s impossible, that it wouldn’t work. He says, “All I know is that I love you,” and then he hung up.
When I get home from work tonight, I called a friend. I told her all about my trip and I explained what happened with the dude. I told her that I can’t imagine the relationship going anywhere. She says, “Stop thinking like a writer. You don’t have to know the final act. You don’t have to know the outline, just go with it. See where it takes you.”
Hmmm, but there’s a missing quality in this whole situation and my left brain is acutely aware of its absence - discernment: the act or process of exhibiting keen insight and good judgment. I can’t have gone through this whole journey, these 317 marbles, to choose a situation that’s so wrong for me. Yet the other part of me wonders if dude was somehow the answer to my prayer. I did get home safely. What I do from here is tomorrow’s marble.
Benjamin Franklin
Ex-man and the kids picked me up from the airport last night and the kids came back to my house with me. It was so good to be home and get back into our routine. I missed them while I was away. I missed being a Mom.
Today, when they were at school, dude in New Orleans called. He said he wanted to be with me. I told him that it’s impossible, that it wouldn’t work. He says, “All I know is that I love you,” and then he hung up.
When I get home from work tonight, I called a friend. I told her all about my trip and I explained what happened with the dude. I told her that I can’t imagine the relationship going anywhere. She says, “Stop thinking like a writer. You don’t have to know the final act. You don’t have to know the outline, just go with it. See where it takes you.”
Hmmm, but there’s a missing quality in this whole situation and my left brain is acutely aware of its absence - discernment: the act or process of exhibiting keen insight and good judgment. I can’t have gone through this whole journey, these 317 marbles, to choose a situation that’s so wrong for me. Yet the other part of me wonders if dude was somehow the answer to my prayer. I did get home safely. What I do from here is tomorrow’s marble.
Do you like knowing the final act? What would happen if you stayed in the present and let the magic unfold?
Broken Beads
50 Marbles
If you lie down with dogs, you’ll get up with fleas.
Old Southernism
I wake up this morning and pack for home. I decide to go for a run while waiting for dude to pick me up for the airport.
He arrives looking like a dog with his tail between his legs. He tells me that his friend from Costa Rica calls him “el perro” (dog) because of his overactive mojo. I look at him and see all his imperfection, but despite everything, he’s somehow shockingly likeable. He has been generous with me, generous with his time, generous with his knowledge of New Orleans even with my incessant questions.
I check out of the hotel, knowing it will not be my last visit to Nola. Dude brings his truck around and I get in. He has a bag of Mardi Gras beads for me to take home. I’ve never seen real throws before only the cheap ones from Gay Pride floats back home. I pull the mess of fancy beads out of the bag. The beads look exactly how I feel – muddled and tangled.
I hold the mess of beads in my hands and look at dude saying, “I just want to take something beautiful home.” He sees my tears and takes me in his arms. He understands. “Let me show you something” he says as he takes out a lighter. He asks me to point out the strands that I want to take home. He breaks all the cheaper beads in the tangle to get at the good ones. He expertly untangles the heap and then uses the flame from his lighter to melt the beads of the broken strands to fuse them back together. When he is done, I’m smiling.
At this point, I don’t really know what I’m taking home. I know it will take some skilled hands to untangle some of my emotions around my trip but I know I’ll also take home some beauty.
Do you know that we, the perfectly imperfect, are lovable? Can we be broken and beautiful?
Old Southernism
I wake up this morning and pack for home. I decide to go for a run while waiting for dude to pick me up for the airport.
He arrives looking like a dog with his tail between his legs. He tells me that his friend from Costa Rica calls him “el perro” (dog) because of his overactive mojo. I look at him and see all his imperfection, but despite everything, he’s somehow shockingly likeable. He has been generous with me, generous with his time, generous with his knowledge of New Orleans even with my incessant questions.
I check out of the hotel, knowing it will not be my last visit to Nola. Dude brings his truck around and I get in. He has a bag of Mardi Gras beads for me to take home. I’ve never seen real throws before only the cheap ones from Gay Pride floats back home. I pull the mess of fancy beads out of the bag. The beads look exactly how I feel – muddled and tangled.
I hold the mess of beads in my hands and look at dude saying, “I just want to take something beautiful home.” He sees my tears and takes me in his arms. He understands. “Let me show you something” he says as he takes out a lighter. He asks me to point out the strands that I want to take home. He breaks all the cheaper beads in the tangle to get at the good ones. He expertly untangles the heap and then uses the flame from his lighter to melt the beads of the broken strands to fuse them back together. When he is done, I’m smiling.
At this point, I don’t really know what I’m taking home. I know it will take some skilled hands to untangle some of my emotions around my trip but I know I’ll also take home some beauty.
Do you know that we, the perfectly imperfect, are lovable? Can we be broken and beautiful?
The Fringe
51 Marbles
THE EDGE, there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.
Hunter S. Thompson
My last full day in New Orleans. When I wake up, I want the day to last forever. Then, at a turn of a dime, I want it to end. I want to be home.
I’ve always dated “nice guys.” And then there’s dude, who I can’t even imagine introducing to my kids. It’s not that he’s the big bad wolf, it’s just that he’s more comfortable with “the edge” than I am. But I’m doing research and how am I going to write anything interesting if the only flavor I’ve ever known is vanilla?
There’s an expression that says, “If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space.” I’ve flirted with the edge here in New Orleans. In the name of research, I’ve had many firsts. So it shouldn’t have been surprising, after some intimate time together, dude tells me that he has to go pick up his girlfriend from at the airport. Girlfriend? What girlfriend? He backtracks and explains that she’s not exactly a girlfriend, just a girl coming to visit (on his tab), and a girl he has sex with (girlfriend or a hooker?) Regardless, I’m not a man stealer and I ask him to take me back to my hotel.
Sure, at the beginning of the week he told me he had a friend coming to visit him, but things were so casual, it barely registered. Besides, I didn’t know a friend meant someone he was sleeping with.
A friend of dude’s takes me out in an effort to cheer me up, but her “men are slime” routine wears out quickly. I go back to my hotel room. I need to find my roots. I read and have a bath. I say a quiet thank you for the safety and the fun I’ve had. The events of today make going home easier.
Dude calls me before bed. He apologizes for hurting me by not being 100% honest. He cries. I listen. He tells me how I kept telling him that I was unavailable. He tells me how I wouldn’t have experienced all the things that I did if he had told me all about her (he’s right about that). He wants to take me to the airport tomorrow. I agree, albeit reluctantly. I tell him that somehow, my heart bone is always connected to my clit bone, no matter how unavailable I might be.
Tomorrow I go home. Home Sweet Home. I miss my kids and my home that is everything that’s opposite from here.
Oscar Wilde wrote, “To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” Are drama and living entwined? What would living look like without all the drama?
Hunter S. Thompson
My last full day in New Orleans. When I wake up, I want the day to last forever. Then, at a turn of a dime, I want it to end. I want to be home.
I’ve always dated “nice guys.” And then there’s dude, who I can’t even imagine introducing to my kids. It’s not that he’s the big bad wolf, it’s just that he’s more comfortable with “the edge” than I am. But I’m doing research and how am I going to write anything interesting if the only flavor I’ve ever known is vanilla?
There’s an expression that says, “If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space.” I’ve flirted with the edge here in New Orleans. In the name of research, I’ve had many firsts. So it shouldn’t have been surprising, after some intimate time together, dude tells me that he has to go pick up his girlfriend from at the airport. Girlfriend? What girlfriend? He backtracks and explains that she’s not exactly a girlfriend, just a girl coming to visit (on his tab), and a girl he has sex with (girlfriend or a hooker?) Regardless, I’m not a man stealer and I ask him to take me back to my hotel.
Sure, at the beginning of the week he told me he had a friend coming to visit him, but things were so casual, it barely registered. Besides, I didn’t know a friend meant someone he was sleeping with.
A friend of dude’s takes me out in an effort to cheer me up, but her “men are slime” routine wears out quickly. I go back to my hotel room. I need to find my roots. I read and have a bath. I say a quiet thank you for the safety and the fun I’ve had. The events of today make going home easier.
Dude calls me before bed. He apologizes for hurting me by not being 100% honest. He cries. I listen. He tells me how I kept telling him that I was unavailable. He tells me how I wouldn’t have experienced all the things that I did if he had told me all about her (he’s right about that). He wants to take me to the airport tomorrow. I agree, albeit reluctantly. I tell him that somehow, my heart bone is always connected to my clit bone, no matter how unavailable I might be.
Tomorrow I go home. Home Sweet Home. I miss my kids and my home that is everything that’s opposite from here.
Oscar Wilde wrote, “To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” Are drama and living entwined? What would living look like without all the drama?
A Streetcar Named Desire
52 Marbles
If desire causes suffering, it may be because we do not desire wisely, or that we are inexpert at obtaining what we desire. Instead of hiding our heads in a prayer cloth and building walls against temptation, why not get better at fulfilling desire? Salvation is for the feeble, that’s what I think. I don’t want salvation, I want life, all of life, the miserable as well as the superb. If the gods would tax ecstasy, then I shall pay; however, I shall protest their taxes at each opportunity, and if Woden or Shiva or Bhuddha or that Christian fellow —what’s his name?—cannot respect that then I’ll accept their wrath. At least I will have tasted the banquet that they have spread before me on this rich, round planet, rather than recoiling from it like a toothless bunny. I cannot believe that the most delicious things were placed here merely to test us, to tempt us, to make it the more difficult for us to capture the grand prize: the safety of the void. To fashion of life such a petty game is unworthy of both men and gods.
Tom Robbins "Jitterbug Perfume"
If desire causes suffering, it may be because we do not desire wisely, or that we are inexpert at obtaining what we desire. Instead of hiding our heads in a prayer cloth and building walls against temptation, why not get better at fulfilling desire? Salvation is for the feeble, that’s what I think. I don’t want salvation, I want life, all of life, the miserable as well as the superb. If the gods would tax ecstasy, then I shall pay; however, I shall protest their taxes at each opportunity, and if Woden or Shiva or Bhuddha or that Christian fellow —what’s his name?—cannot respect that then I’ll accept their wrath. At least I will have tasted the banquet that they have spread before me on this rich, round planet, rather than recoiling from it like a toothless bunny. I cannot believe that the most delicious things were placed here merely to test us, to tempt us, to make it the more difficult for us to capture the grand prize: the safety of the void. To fashion of life such a petty game is unworthy of both men and gods.
Tom Robbins "Jitterbug Perfume"
I go for a run in the morning along the St Charles Avenue Streetcar line. It runs up to the posh Garden District where the grand mansions are surrounded by impeccably tended, lush gardens (in contrast to most areas where the grass is still parched - thanks Katrina).
I don’t see anyone else running and I ponder how opposite this city is to my hometown, Vancouver. Where I come from, you can’t go out and not see people on bikes, running, kayaking or partaking in some form of outdoor exercise. Here, there’s a heck of a lot of partying going on. My city is built on rock, the collision of two tectonic plates that formed beautiful mountain ranges for skiing and opened up various bodies of water. Here, the land is flat and built on layers of deposited fluvial materials from the Mississippi. Where I come from, everything shuts down early and the city has a long slumber. Here, the city seems to survive on catnaps. Where I come from, it’s cold; here, it’s balmy (although everyone warns me I’d hate it in August and September when it’s too hot). Here, people are incredibly friendly. Back home we tend to be more insular maintaining a more British sensibility of not disturbing people’s personal bubbles.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I go to dude’s house before the big Burlesque Show at the House of Blues. He smokes a lot of weed, but he’s Ryder after all. No surprise. We go to the show and it’s a packed house. Always a gentleman, dude bribes a waitress to bring me a stool.
Two of the performers in the show are particularly amazing – Perle Noire and Stormy Gayle. Where most of the performers dance to the music, Perle is the music and she has amazing rapport with the audience. Stormy Gayle is lovely, a classically trained dancer and the ultimate Southern Belle (of the disrobing variety). When I talk to her after the show, I ask her how her costumes are so vibrant. She sews hundreds of Swarovski crystals on the costumes so in the lights, her costume glimmers and shines. I introduce myself to the show’s producer and meet a few of the other dancers. It’s hard for me to believe that I was once so shy that I could barely talk to people I didn’t know. I guess years in the restaurant biz have been of some use.
After the show, dude and I go to a bar with a mechanical bull. As I stand in line to give the bull a try, I watch as drunk college girls are easily bounced off. When it’s my turn, I hold on tightly with my thighs. The bull operator keeps turning up the speed, trying to bounce me off, but I hold tight. Finally, dude tells him to crank it all the way. I laugh as the bull turns wildly. I tenaciously hold the reigns until finally, laughing too hard, I let go.
He comes to my hotel room but after our romp, I ask him to leave. I want to wake up alone in my own space.
I don’t know if dude is ever not high. How can I desire a man that’s so wrong for me? Have I lost my marbles?
I don’t see anyone else running and I ponder how opposite this city is to my hometown, Vancouver. Where I come from, you can’t go out and not see people on bikes, running, kayaking or partaking in some form of outdoor exercise. Here, there’s a heck of a lot of partying going on. My city is built on rock, the collision of two tectonic plates that formed beautiful mountain ranges for skiing and opened up various bodies of water. Here, the land is flat and built on layers of deposited fluvial materials from the Mississippi. Where I come from, everything shuts down early and the city has a long slumber. Here, the city seems to survive on catnaps. Where I come from, it’s cold; here, it’s balmy (although everyone warns me I’d hate it in August and September when it’s too hot). Here, people are incredibly friendly. Back home we tend to be more insular maintaining a more British sensibility of not disturbing people’s personal bubbles.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I go to dude’s house before the big Burlesque Show at the House of Blues. He smokes a lot of weed, but he’s Ryder after all. No surprise. We go to the show and it’s a packed house. Always a gentleman, dude bribes a waitress to bring me a stool.
Two of the performers in the show are particularly amazing – Perle Noire and Stormy Gayle. Where most of the performers dance to the music, Perle is the music and she has amazing rapport with the audience. Stormy Gayle is lovely, a classically trained dancer and the ultimate Southern Belle (of the disrobing variety). When I talk to her after the show, I ask her how her costumes are so vibrant. She sews hundreds of Swarovski crystals on the costumes so in the lights, her costume glimmers and shines. I introduce myself to the show’s producer and meet a few of the other dancers. It’s hard for me to believe that I was once so shy that I could barely talk to people I didn’t know. I guess years in the restaurant biz have been of some use.
After the show, dude and I go to a bar with a mechanical bull. As I stand in line to give the bull a try, I watch as drunk college girls are easily bounced off. When it’s my turn, I hold on tightly with my thighs. The bull operator keeps turning up the speed, trying to bounce me off, but I hold tight. Finally, dude tells him to crank it all the way. I laugh as the bull turns wildly. I tenaciously hold the reigns until finally, laughing too hard, I let go.
He comes to my hotel room but after our romp, I ask him to leave. I want to wake up alone in my own space.
I don’t know if dude is ever not high. How can I desire a man that’s so wrong for me? Have I lost my marbles?
Have you ever had a wonderful time with someone who is wrong for you? As the years pass, one of the determining questions shifts from, "Is this someone who I'd introduce to my parents?" to, "Is this someone who I'd introduce to my children?"
The Happy Wanderer
53 Marbles
The woman who follows the crowd will usually go no further than the crowd. The woman who walks alone is likely to find herself in places no one has ever been before.
Albert Einstein
I wake up with a man in my bed when all I want is to do my own thing. He leaves early after I explain that I need to go do some research, go to a few museums, boring stuff. He asks if I’d call him later. I agree.
I go to a museum and walk through The History of New Orleans exhibit. I also go to a Hurricane Katrina exhibition. My day is fluid and I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be.
I see a palm reader on Jackson Square. Apparently, he’s a member of the Hell’s Angels and I should know this by the insignia on his headscarf. He tells me I’ll be famous and asks me out on a date. I’m wondering if, in my new silk dress, I come across as a woman who would date a Hell’s Angel? I decline his offer.
I call the dude from last night and we get together for dinner and a movie. He seems sweet, he makes me laugh, he’s very clever, but I’m not looking. I tell him I’m like a slippery fish, and if he tries to hold me too tightly, I’ll just slip right out of his clutch.
I give myself a “get out of jail free” card for the sex we have because it’s travel sex and it should be exempt. The goal is to stay out of relationships with anyone other than myself.
Have you ever planned a trip by yourself? How much fun could you have going to a place that you’ve always wanted to go to? What kink of adventure would unfold? (Alright, that was supposed to read “kind” of adventure but I had a Freudian typo)
Albert Einstein
I wake up with a man in my bed when all I want is to do my own thing. He leaves early after I explain that I need to go do some research, go to a few museums, boring stuff. He asks if I’d call him later. I agree.
I go to a museum and walk through The History of New Orleans exhibit. I also go to a Hurricane Katrina exhibition. My day is fluid and I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be.
I see a palm reader on Jackson Square. Apparently, he’s a member of the Hell’s Angels and I should know this by the insignia on his headscarf. He tells me I’ll be famous and asks me out on a date. I’m wondering if, in my new silk dress, I come across as a woman who would date a Hell’s Angel? I decline his offer.
I call the dude from last night and we get together for dinner and a movie. He seems sweet, he makes me laugh, he’s very clever, but I’m not looking. I tell him I’m like a slippery fish, and if he tries to hold me too tightly, I’ll just slip right out of his clutch.
I give myself a “get out of jail free” card for the sex we have because it’s travel sex and it should be exempt. The goal is to stay out of relationships with anyone other than myself.
Have you ever planned a trip by yourself? How much fun could you have going to a place that you’ve always wanted to go to? What kink of adventure would unfold? (Alright, that was supposed to read “kind” of adventure but I had a Freudian typo)
Travel Allowances
54 Marbles
That is what we are supposed to do when we are at our best - make it all up - but make it up so truly that later it will happen that way.Ernest Hemingway
That is what we are supposed to do when we are at our best - make it all up - but make it up so truly that later it will happen that way.Ernest Hemingway
My confidence returns with the morning light. I ask to switch into a non-smoking room, work out in the gym, then go out exploring.
The first thing that I purchase is an umbrella that clips onto my purse. The weather changes frequently in New Orleans, and every so often it rains – a delightfully warm rain, not like the cold winter rain back home.
I wander into the French Quarter research center packed with historical books and local newspapers. I feel like a sponge - drawing everything in - the history, the architecture, the way people talk. I’m in heaven.
As the daylight wanes, vestiges of the three warnings still haunt me so I slip into St. Louis Cathedral on Jackson Square I pray for safety and for things to work out the way they were meant to (perhaps the latter is a universal law so praying for it is redundant).
I take myself for my comfort food - at a small Italian place called Mona Lisa. As I drink a glass of wine, I look through my guidebook and decide to check out the Gay and Lesbian Community Center. I try calling them several times but there is no answer. They must be closed.
For dessert I head over to Café Du Monde to check out their world famous beignets. As I listen to the concert-hall-worthy jazz trio busking near the patio, I have my introduction to the sugary sweetness of the beignets offset by delicious chicory coffee. Yum!
I’m not looking for romance, or even sex but this is how it finds me… Since I want to do some more research. I decide to call the Community Center one more time and they answer. They’re having their anniversary party and they asked me to join in.
The party is in full swing when I arrive. I grab a drink and start talking to a local woman about her Katrina experiences then I ask her what it is like to live as a lesbian in New Orleans. “Oh, I’m not gay,” she replies. Then she introduces me to a male friend of hers who grew up in New Orleans as a “French Quarter rat.”
I’ll interrupt for a moment to explain that in the first draft of Burlesque Palace, there’s a love interest named Ryder. Ryder is a pothead, a dealer, a schemer, and a rogue with “eyes bluer than a one-eyed carpenter’s thumb.” Dude has a name remarkably similar to Ryder and when he sits next to me and starts talking, I think, “This is Ryder.” I feel like I’m in my very own living, breathing script so it doesn’t surprise me when he sparks up a joint. He answers my stream of questions about his city then I ask him, “What’s it like to be gay in New Orleans?” He looks at me, “I’m not gay,” he answers. Apparently my gaydar isn’t set for New Orleans.
We go to a bar with dude’s friends including the man who founded the center (who was gay and living in the South). They tell hilarious stories about life in New Orleans including their brushes with the war on drugs. I have superstar status as I am from Vansterdam – the Canadian version of the liberal Amsterdam. Dude makes me laugh - a lot. As Napolean remarked, "A woman laughing is a woman conquered."
After we shut down the bar, dude and I go for a walk and end up back in my hotel room. I am nervous but he's kind, “We don’t have to do anything.” I want to but it's daunting - I haven’t slept with any man, other than Ex-man, for over twelve years. I turn out the lights.
Serendipity is a happy accident or the surprise of finding something you're not specifically looking for. Can you appreciate the serendipity in your life? Can you allow more space for serendipity to show up? (Hint, if we try to control too much, there isn't much room for it.)
Not in Kansas Any More
55 Marbles
Discovery consists of seeing what everybody has seen and thinking what nobody has thought.
Albert Szent-Gyorgyi
It was an early morning. When the alarm went off at 5:00 am, I had slept for three hours. I got up and dropped a marble through the window into the garden and tucked five marbles into my purse to be dropped into New Orlean’s soil.
When I rolled my suitcase to the bus stop near my house it was still dark. After three transfers, I was finally at the airport.
I had to change planes in Dallas where there was a nasty winter storm – lightning, thunder, freezing rain. Unfortunately all flights were cancelled until the storm subsided. As I sat in the terminal, I listened to the announcements through the speakers, warning of a code yellow, or elevated security threat. Part of me wanted to be home so I called my brother/friend in Georgia so I could hear a familiar voice. I thought about changing my flight to go see him but decided that just talking to him was what I needed.
Four hours later, the storm subsided and planes were taking off again. I was sent to another terminal to try to get on the next plane to New Orleans but it was already full. Twice more I tried in vain to get on a flight until finally I got on the last flight to New Orleans.
The airport shuttle to my hotel was packed and I was tired and starving but when we entered the French Quarter, I was revived. It was love at first sight - the beautiful buildings, the lights - it was the real life inspiration for Disneyland’s New Orleans Square. It had the feeling of history that so many European cities have - was I really in America? My excitement stirred. For the first time that day, I felt like I was in the right place.
I arrived at my hotel at just past midnight and asked the girl at the desk, “Is there a place still open that I could get some food?” She answered, “Obviously you’re not from around here,” and she proceeded to tell me about the numerous spots that were still open. Apparently the French Quarter never sleeps.
I walked down the street in the warm winter air – an oxymoron where I come from. When I approached Bourbon Street, three girls were teetering on their heels, arm in arm. They stopped and one of them threw up in the gutter. As I passed by, her friend turned to me, “Welcome to New Orleans.”
For dinner I had my first Shrimp Po’Boy (named after the sandwiches brought to the“poor boys”- the striking transit workers back in 1929). It was tasty, and spicy, and huge. The boy-next-door waiter from Kansas tried to pick me up. Hmmm, this should be interesting.
Back in the hotel, my room smelled like smoke. I landed in bed exhausted and yes, alone. As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered, "What am I doing?" and, “Will I leave early?”
Albert Szent-Gyorgyi
It was an early morning. When the alarm went off at 5:00 am, I had slept for three hours. I got up and dropped a marble through the window into the garden and tucked five marbles into my purse to be dropped into New Orlean’s soil.
When I rolled my suitcase to the bus stop near my house it was still dark. After three transfers, I was finally at the airport.
I had to change planes in Dallas where there was a nasty winter storm – lightning, thunder, freezing rain. Unfortunately all flights were cancelled until the storm subsided. As I sat in the terminal, I listened to the announcements through the speakers, warning of a code yellow, or elevated security threat. Part of me wanted to be home so I called my brother/friend in Georgia so I could hear a familiar voice. I thought about changing my flight to go see him but decided that just talking to him was what I needed.
Four hours later, the storm subsided and planes were taking off again. I was sent to another terminal to try to get on the next plane to New Orleans but it was already full. Twice more I tried in vain to get on a flight until finally I got on the last flight to New Orleans.
The airport shuttle to my hotel was packed and I was tired and starving but when we entered the French Quarter, I was revived. It was love at first sight - the beautiful buildings, the lights - it was the real life inspiration for Disneyland’s New Orleans Square. It had the feeling of history that so many European cities have - was I really in America? My excitement stirred. For the first time that day, I felt like I was in the right place.
I arrived at my hotel at just past midnight and asked the girl at the desk, “Is there a place still open that I could get some food?” She answered, “Obviously you’re not from around here,” and she proceeded to tell me about the numerous spots that were still open. Apparently the French Quarter never sleeps.
I walked down the street in the warm winter air – an oxymoron where I come from. When I approached Bourbon Street, three girls were teetering on their heels, arm in arm. They stopped and one of them threw up in the gutter. As I passed by, her friend turned to me, “Welcome to New Orleans.”
For dinner I had my first Shrimp Po’Boy (named after the sandwiches brought to the“poor boys”- the striking transit workers back in 1929). It was tasty, and spicy, and huge. The boy-next-door waiter from Kansas tried to pick me up. Hmmm, this should be interesting.
Back in the hotel, my room smelled like smoke. I landed in bed exhausted and yes, alone. As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered, "What am I doing?" and, “Will I leave early?”
What do you do when obstacles appear in your path? Do you forge forward or doubt your path?
The Three Warnings
56 Marbles
Baby please don’t go. Baby please don’t go. Baby please don’t go down to New Orleans you know I love you so, Baby please don’t go.
Van Morrison
Tonight I had my last shift at the restaurant before going down to New Orleans. I’m excited and a bit nervous. The stuntman from Marble 223 came into the restaurant tonight. He had recently been in New Orleans shooting a movie. When he heard I was going there alone he warned me, “It’s a dangerous city,” he said, “lots of gun violence, not a great place for you to be going on your own.”
I didn't know if he views the world as an unsafe place for a woman on her own. Better saddle up to a man for protection, the more muscular the better (and oh, he just happens to be really muscular). Was this genuine concern or was he still trying to make the moves on me?
Van Morrison
Tonight I had my last shift at the restaurant before going down to New Orleans. I’m excited and a bit nervous. The stuntman from Marble 223 came into the restaurant tonight. He had recently been in New Orleans shooting a movie. When he heard I was going there alone he warned me, “It’s a dangerous city,” he said, “lots of gun violence, not a great place for you to be going on your own.”
I didn't know if he views the world as an unsafe place for a woman on her own. Better saddle up to a man for protection, the more muscular the better (and oh, he just happens to be really muscular). Was this genuine concern or was he still trying to make the moves on me?
Then I got home. On my answering machine there was a message from my brother-friend in Georgia, “Hey Sis, be careful in New Orleans. It’s not Vancouver. Watch your back.”
Really? My pseudo-brother has only ever been supportive of intrepidness in every form.
I was beginning to doubt this whole adventure. I could take the warnings earlier in the week from Ex-man, actually I expected them, but the three warnings together were starting to shake my resolve.
I was beginning to doubt this whole adventure. I could take the warnings earlier in the week from Ex-man, actually I expected them, but the three warnings together were starting to shake my resolve.
Perhaps I am crazy, going down to New Orleans by myself to research a series that I'm writing for school. But I’m not really writing it for school. I’m writing it for me and I want it to be the best that it can be and I want it to be authentic. How can it be authentic, if I know nothing about the location except what I’ve learned from books? Besides, I won’t be on my own, I thought, I’m on a mission, and whenever there’s a mission, there’s guidance and, with any luck, protection.
I soothe the three warnings with three quotes on courage and certainty:
- If we wait until we've satisfied all the uncertainties, it may be too late. Lee Iacocca
- Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore. Andre Gide
- I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I’ve never let it keep me from doing a single thing that I wanted to do. Georgia O'Keefe
So I finish packing my suitcase and I ready myself for uncertainty and adventure...
Do you let uncertainties hold you back? What would it take to embrace uncertainty?
Willingness to Fail
57 Marbles
It is impossible to live without failing at something unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all.
JK Rowlings
In two days I fly to New Orleans to do some research for Burlesque Palace. Some people, like my prof, think I’m crazy. All I know is that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get the story to the next level and what it requires now is for me to physically go to New Orleans.
Today before I went to work, I passed by a local dressmaker who was having a huge sale. I tried on two of his dresses and bought them both for my trip. It’ll be so nice to have some pretty new clothes to wear.
Yes, the trip is a gamble and an added expense in December but it’s also an adventure. In Jitterbug Perfume, Tom Robbins writes, “How can you admire a human who consciously embraces the bland, the mediocre, and the safe rather than risk the suffering that disappointment can bring?” I don’t foresee disappointment in the future but I also refuse to live so cautiously that it’s not a possibility.
All I know is what’s required of me in the present.
Fly south.
Fly south.
Do you live your life too cautiously? If you knew that failure wasn’t a possibility, what would you do? What would it take to do it regardless of outcome?
In two days I fly to New Orleans to do some research for Burlesque Palace. Some people, like my prof, think I’m crazy. All I know is that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get the story to the next level and what it requires now is for me to physically go to New Orleans.
Today before I went to work, I passed by a local dressmaker who was having a huge sale. I tried on two of his dresses and bought them both for my trip. It’ll be so nice to have some pretty new clothes to wear.
Yes, the trip is a gamble and an added expense in December but it’s also an adventure. In Jitterbug Perfume, Tom Robbins writes, “How can you admire a human who consciously embraces the bland, the mediocre, and the safe rather than risk the suffering that disappointment can bring?” I don’t foresee disappointment in the future but I also refuse to live so cautiously that it’s not a possibility.
All I know is what’s required of me in the present.
Fly south.
Fly south.
Do you live your life too cautiously? If you knew that failure wasn’t a possibility, what would you do? What would it take to do it regardless of outcome?
Coping with Criticism
58 Marbles
After yesterday’s marble (and my whole relationship with Ex-man), I’ve realized that I don’t deal with criticism well. I tend to defend my position, as if there is only one right and one wrong position. As well, I tend to mentally or verbally criticize the person who is criticizing me, using yesterday’s example I think something like, “Who are you to kibosh my dreams? You’re only a teacher. If your career had been stellar, you wouldn’t be here teaching us.” There must be a more graceful way to receive criticism without having to completely agree with it.
There are times when I receive criticism well like when I’m in class and people are giving me their critiques about my writing. I receive it then I sort through and decide which critiques would lead to strengthening my writing. However, when I’m in a relationship and there’s an emotional element, I’m not as open to being criticized. Perhaps I believe that love and criticism are mutually exclusive but in the real world, that is seldom true.
For new ways to handle criticism, I turn to Dr. Harriet Lerner who says,"No one enjoys being criticized, especially if it's unfair, yet how well we respond determines how our relationships go, both at work and at home. A lot is at stake." In her book, The Dance of Connection, she gives the following steps to cope with criticism:
After yesterday’s marble (and my whole relationship with Ex-man), I’ve realized that I don’t deal with criticism well. I tend to defend my position, as if there is only one right and one wrong position. As well, I tend to mentally or verbally criticize the person who is criticizing me, using yesterday’s example I think something like, “Who are you to kibosh my dreams? You’re only a teacher. If your career had been stellar, you wouldn’t be here teaching us.” There must be a more graceful way to receive criticism without having to completely agree with it.
There are times when I receive criticism well like when I’m in class and people are giving me their critiques about my writing. I receive it then I sort through and decide which critiques would lead to strengthening my writing. However, when I’m in a relationship and there’s an emotional element, I’m not as open to being criticized. Perhaps I believe that love and criticism are mutually exclusive but in the real world, that is seldom true.
For new ways to handle criticism, I turn to Dr. Harriet Lerner who says,"No one enjoys being criticized, especially if it's unfair, yet how well we respond determines how our relationships go, both at work and at home. A lot is at stake." In her book, The Dance of Connection, she gives the following steps to cope with criticism:
- Listen attentively without planning your reply (I am so guilty of getting the gist of the complaint and going directly to the response)
- Ask questions about what don’t understand (Sometimes when a situation is emotionally charged, it’s easy to jump to conclusions about what the other person is saying. As well, the other person may be so charged that they’re not saying what they mean)
- Avoid getting defensive – listen for the piece you agree with (there is usually some morsel that you can agree about)
- Apologize for that piece first
- Never criticize person who is criticizing you (As mentioned, I’m guilty of the tennis game style of criticism)
- Stay calm – under-react and take low key approach, anxiety/intensity are driving force behind dysfunctional patterns (I'll have to work on this one)
- State differences – “here’s what I don’t agree with”
- Stop non-productive conversations – “I need time to think about what you’re saying” –set another time (Wow. I think this little tool would have helped my relationship with Ex-man)
- Speak to important issue – let the rest go
- Don’t just do something, stand there - even in the grip of strong emotions
I’m sure my life with my three kids will continue to give me opportunities to learn to receive criticism more gracefully. And although it can be challenging to be your best self when another person is critical and/or being obnoxious, Lerner writes, “Being able to shift out of that defensive place to a position of pure listening is the ultimate spiritual act.”
How do you react to criticism? At home? At work? From your Ex? Could you try new ways to receive criticism more gracefully? If you're already a guru of receiving criticism, maybe you'd like to share your methods (I swear I won't criticize them;)
Who Do You Know You Are?
59 Marbles
Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?
Robert Browning
I guess I was lucky that when I got accepted into the Writing for TV class because an über supportive interim prof was teaching. She encouraged me to develop a new burlesque series rather than an animation series that I'd already partially written. All I knew about the new series was that it was set in New Orleans, it involved a building, and it was called Burlesque Palace. I had my work cut out for me but what has evolved is a cable series idea set in the New Orleans that involves lots of music.
Today my regular prof is back and I got a talking down. First I was told that I had to tone the series down so that I could consider pitching it to Canadian broadcasters. This would involve cutting out much of the music, setting it in a Canadian city, and making it a little less racy. When I argued that doing so would unravel the series, she said, “When you graduate, you’ll be lucky to get a job writing other people’s characters. If you’re really lucky, after years of hard work, one day you might get a chance to pitch your ‘passion project’.” I sat and listened to her quietly then I suggested, “What about those outliers like Diablo Cody who come out of left field and hit the big time precisely because she wasn't the norm?” That got an eye roll as she responded, “You’d have better chance winning the lotto.” (I didn’t tell her that I sometimes buy lotto tickets too;)
Tonight I’m slightly peeved at my prof. I know she thinks I’m audacious to hope that as a novice writer, my series would be picked up when most well-seasoned writers don’t get past writing other people’s characters. But I didn’t start out with the intention of being audacious. I started out completing an assignment to develop my own original TV series. She was the originator of the assignment. Why design a class around developing original series when you’re just going to discourage your students from pitching them? In addition to my series, there are other series that I could see working if the students continued to hone them and continually edit, taking them to the next level.
As Indira Gandhi said, “Whenever you take a step forward, you are bound to disturb something” I just didn’t know that the something would be my teacher. She probably wants to shield me from disappointment, but she has no idea what my future holds.
My question is, “Who does she think she is?” I’m not asking her to make this happen for me. Nor am I asking her to project her life experiences onto me. I’m following my inspiration and instinct, my job is to see where they take me. I believe in infinite possibilities and to quote Yoda in Star Wars, “My ally is the force and a powerful ally it is.”
Do you ever come across the who-does-she-think-she-is energy? Is it possible that in stepping forward, you are merely disturbing something? Is it okay to be audacious? Can you come back to the energy of who you know yourself to be?
I guess I was lucky that when I got accepted into the Writing for TV class because an über supportive interim prof was teaching. She encouraged me to develop a new burlesque series rather than an animation series that I'd already partially written. All I knew about the new series was that it was set in New Orleans, it involved a building, and it was called Burlesque Palace. I had my work cut out for me but what has evolved is a cable series idea set in the New Orleans that involves lots of music.
Today my regular prof is back and I got a talking down. First I was told that I had to tone the series down so that I could consider pitching it to Canadian broadcasters. This would involve cutting out much of the music, setting it in a Canadian city, and making it a little less racy. When I argued that doing so would unravel the series, she said, “When you graduate, you’ll be lucky to get a job writing other people’s characters. If you’re really lucky, after years of hard work, one day you might get a chance to pitch your ‘passion project’.” I sat and listened to her quietly then I suggested, “What about those outliers like Diablo Cody who come out of left field and hit the big time precisely because she wasn't the norm?” That got an eye roll as she responded, “You’d have better chance winning the lotto.” (I didn’t tell her that I sometimes buy lotto tickets too;)
Tonight I’m slightly peeved at my prof. I know she thinks I’m audacious to hope that as a novice writer, my series would be picked up when most well-seasoned writers don’t get past writing other people’s characters. But I didn’t start out with the intention of being audacious. I started out completing an assignment to develop my own original TV series. She was the originator of the assignment. Why design a class around developing original series when you’re just going to discourage your students from pitching them? In addition to my series, there are other series that I could see working if the students continued to hone them and continually edit, taking them to the next level.
As Indira Gandhi said, “Whenever you take a step forward, you are bound to disturb something” I just didn’t know that the something would be my teacher. She probably wants to shield me from disappointment, but she has no idea what my future holds.
My question is, “Who does she think she is?” I’m not asking her to make this happen for me. Nor am I asking her to project her life experiences onto me. I’m following my inspiration and instinct, my job is to see where they take me. I believe in infinite possibilities and to quote Yoda in Star Wars, “My ally is the force and a powerful ally it is.”
Do you ever come across the who-does-she-think-she-is energy? Is it possible that in stepping forward, you are merely disturbing something? Is it okay to be audacious? Can you come back to the energy of who you know yourself to be?
Ohhhh Christmas Tree
60 Marbles
It’s the Christmas season marbles so last night my kids and I went to pick out our first Christmas tree without Ex-man. I had to consider the logistics as Ex-man had a trailer that could fit a few trees. My car doesn’t have a roof rack, but after asking around, I decided that it would work out just fine. I was told to tie the tree down with rope but I opted for bungee cords - less skill-testing.
I asked my kids where they’d like to go for the tree. They told me that their Dad had broken tradition and bought his tree from a new place and so they really wanted to go to the store where we always go – IKEA.
They were in good spirits when we got there. They love to run around the lot and play hide and seek in the trees. When we finally all agreed on one, we took the bound tree and hoisted it on top of a blanket on the roof of our car (good thing my eldest son has muscles). The bungee cords worked like a charm and we managed to transport the tree safely over hills and highways back to our home.
Thankfully, the tree trunk had a clean, straight cut - no sawing required. We carried the bound tree into the house and I secured it in the tree stand before I cut the cords. The moment of truth... It unraveled into a perfect, symmetrical, aromatic Christmas tree. Yippee!
After I did a little pruning and put on the lights, it was time for the kids to join in. With Charlie Brown tunes in the background, we drank eggnog and decorated the Christmas tree, reminiscing about some of their old hand-made decorations. When we were almost finished, I decided to prune the tree a bit more because it was taking over the TV screen. My intuition kicked in and said, “Be careful not to cut the-” but ZAP, The tree went dark.
Why couldn’t it just be easy? I had been working all day to make extra cash for Christmas. The darkened tree was disheartening. The tree was completely decorated and now I’d have to disassemble it?
It took me a few minutes to keep it together. I took a breath, looked at the time and quickly decided to go to the store before it closed to pick up some more lights. When I returned, the kids had taken the ornaments off and were ready to do it all over again. And there it was, another bit of family folklore, “Do you remember the year we got to decorate the Christmas tree twice because Mom zapped the lights?”
I asked my kids where they’d like to go for the tree. They told me that their Dad had broken tradition and bought his tree from a new place and so they really wanted to go to the store where we always go – IKEA.
They were in good spirits when we got there. They love to run around the lot and play hide and seek in the trees. When we finally all agreed on one, we took the bound tree and hoisted it on top of a blanket on the roof of our car (good thing my eldest son has muscles). The bungee cords worked like a charm and we managed to transport the tree safely over hills and highways back to our home.
Thankfully, the tree trunk had a clean, straight cut - no sawing required. We carried the bound tree into the house and I secured it in the tree stand before I cut the cords. The moment of truth... It unraveled into a perfect, symmetrical, aromatic Christmas tree. Yippee!
After I did a little pruning and put on the lights, it was time for the kids to join in. With Charlie Brown tunes in the background, we drank eggnog and decorated the Christmas tree, reminiscing about some of their old hand-made decorations. When we were almost finished, I decided to prune the tree a bit more because it was taking over the TV screen. My intuition kicked in and said, “Be careful not to cut the-” but ZAP, The tree went dark.
Why couldn’t it just be easy? I had been working all day to make extra cash for Christmas. The darkened tree was disheartening. The tree was completely decorated and now I’d have to disassemble it?
It took me a few minutes to keep it together. I took a breath, looked at the time and quickly decided to go to the store before it closed to pick up some more lights. When I returned, the kids had taken the ornaments off and were ready to do it all over again. And there it was, another bit of family folklore, “Do you remember the year we got to decorate the Christmas tree twice because Mom zapped the lights?”
Think about your challenging moments. Will they be a great story some day?
The Less the Merrier
61 Marbles
A good friend of mine was in town this weekend. She came by my work to say a quick hello but I was still busy and couldn’t connect with her for very long. She told me that she had been over to our mutual friend’s house to have a visit and I assumed that she had been there for dinner on a night that I was working. Later our friend called and said they had met up for breakfast. I wondered silently why they didn’t ask me along seeing as it was probably the only time I could have visited with her. I’m a more-the-merrier type person and I tend to invite anyone who I think might like to come along so I didn’t understand not being asked. Then I wondered if it maybe was a “couples” thing.
As I started to notice my reaction, I became conscious of the choice that I was making to feel bad. I got off the phone and thought to myself, “My feelings are hurt but it’s a choice that I’m making to stay feeling hurt.” Because I tend to be inclusive, I didn’t really understand my friend’s decision not to include me. In addition, as a result of the breakup, my social life has shifted. What used to be occasions where we would socialize as couples, now are not. I was insecure that my good friends would be lost in the shift. Yet I was choosing to feel bad instead of to communicate.
I wanted to have insight into my friend’s point of view. When I framed it this way, the situation felt less charged and I sent off an email to my friend saying:
So, I have to get this off my chest. I tend to be an includer so I'm having trouble understanding why you didn't connect the dots and ask me along to breakfast. I thought perhaps you were getting together for dinner on a night I was working but when I found out it was breakfast, I was a bit puzzled. I'd like to understand, so maybe we can talk about it?
Take care
My friend immediately called back and told me that the plans were supposed to be for the night when I was working but they fell through because of ferry connections and the only other time was in the morning. She said that she thought because I was working the night before, it would be too early. She promised that the next time she would invite me and let me decide if it would work. She was sincere. She was my friend. She told me she loved me (and I add - even though I'm sensitive).
More and more, I’m beginning to notice that when I take things personally, I make a choice to feel hurt by the assumptions that I make about a situation. Rarely is there malintent, and even if, in this situation, my friends had decided to have a couples get together, why couldn’t I have been secure knowing that life is ebb and flow, contraction and expansion, death and life?
Do you tend to take things too personally? What would it take for you to accept what is with more grace? What would it take to communicate in ways that are less charged?
As I started to notice my reaction, I became conscious of the choice that I was making to feel bad. I got off the phone and thought to myself, “My feelings are hurt but it’s a choice that I’m making to stay feeling hurt.” Because I tend to be inclusive, I didn’t really understand my friend’s decision not to include me. In addition, as a result of the breakup, my social life has shifted. What used to be occasions where we would socialize as couples, now are not. I was insecure that my good friends would be lost in the shift. Yet I was choosing to feel bad instead of to communicate.
I wanted to have insight into my friend’s point of view. When I framed it this way, the situation felt less charged and I sent off an email to my friend saying:
So, I have to get this off my chest. I tend to be an includer so I'm having trouble understanding why you didn't connect the dots and ask me along to breakfast. I thought perhaps you were getting together for dinner on a night I was working but when I found out it was breakfast, I was a bit puzzled. I'd like to understand, so maybe we can talk about it?
Take care
My friend immediately called back and told me that the plans were supposed to be for the night when I was working but they fell through because of ferry connections and the only other time was in the morning. She said that she thought because I was working the night before, it would be too early. She promised that the next time she would invite me and let me decide if it would work. She was sincere. She was my friend. She told me she loved me (and I add - even though I'm sensitive).
More and more, I’m beginning to notice that when I take things personally, I make a choice to feel hurt by the assumptions that I make about a situation. Rarely is there malintent, and even if, in this situation, my friends had decided to have a couples get together, why couldn’t I have been secure knowing that life is ebb and flow, contraction and expansion, death and life?
Do you tend to take things too personally? What would it take for you to accept what is with more grace? What would it take to communicate in ways that are less charged?
Black and White Thinking
62 Marbles
When I was a little girl, everything in the world fell into either of
these two categories: wrong or right. Black or white. Now that I am an
adult, I have put childish things aside and now I know that some things
fall into wrong and some things fall into right. Some things are
categorized as black and some things are categorized as white. But most
things in the world aren't either! Most things in the world aren't
black, aren't white, aren't wrong, aren't right, but most of everything
is just different. And now I know that there's nothing wrong with
different, and that we can let things be different, we don't have to try
and make them black or white, we can just let them be grey. And when I
was a child, I thought that God was the God who only saw black and
white. Now that I am no longer a child, I can see, that God is the God
who can see the black and the white and the grey, too, and He dances on
the grey! Grey is okay.
C. JoyBell C.
A few marbles ago, I went to pick up an application form for my son who is changing schools next year. I parked outside the school on the busy street in a no parking after 3 pm zone. When I got into my car after picking up the form, it was 2:50. My phone rang and I answered it remaining in my spot to avoid the illegally talking and driving. While I was talking, a person in a big van behind me started honking his/her horn. I wondered why as it was still before 3 pm and the traffic wasn’t heavy in the six lane street. I thought perhaps the van wanted to park behind me so I pulled up. That didn’t stop the honking. Then the big guy with wild eyes pulled up and yelled, “It’s a no parking zone!” (I’ve omitted the expletives).
Instead of ignoring him, I got off the phone and opened my window to reply to him, explaining that it wasn’t three o’clock yet and I had every right to park there. He yelled at me, asking what time it was and I answered, "Five to three." He continued to block traffic and I decided to drive off, slightly upset.
What I realized when I drove away is that I had a choice to engage or not engage. I decided to engage in order to defend my position. When I feel anger coming at me, I tend to push back, especially when I feel it is unwarranted. More importantly, I noticed how much I enjoy being right. This is not a great thing to notice about yourself because where there is a right, there is inevitably a wrong. When I come from this place, I feel righteous but that word is defined as morally justifiable, without guilt or sin, and in accordance with virtue and morality. But I am never completely virtuous, and the world is rarely black but myriad shades of gray.*
It’s not like I didn’t come by this trait honestly. If you look around, our society is steeped in black and white thinking, from religion to politics to the politics of breakups. I can see the craziness of it when I look at political parties, so sure that their way of viewing the world is the right way, so certain that the other party is wrong. What would it take for us to be in more allowance of how other people see the world? What would it take for me to be in allowance of other people’s interesting points of view? What would it take for me to not react to an interesting point of view especially when it is coming from a wild-eyed teacher in a van?
Do you like to be right? Does this inadvertently make others wrong? What would it take to be in more allowance of the way others see the world?
As Eckhart Tolle writes, "Give up defining yourself - to yourself or to others. You won't die. You will come to life. And don't be concerned with how others define you. When they define you, they are limiting themselves, so it's their problem. Whenever you interact with people, don't be there primarily as a function or a role, but as the field of conscious Presence. You can only lose something that you have, but you cannot lose something that you are.” I like to think, "Give up defending yourself..."
As Eckhart Tolle writes, "Give up defining yourself - to yourself or to others. You won't die. You will come to life. And don't be concerned with how others define you. When they define you, they are limiting themselves, so it's their problem. Whenever you interact with people, don't be there primarily as a function or a role, but as the field of conscious Presence. You can only lose something that you have, but you cannot lose something that you are.” I like to think, "Give up defending yourself..."
*Can I even write that anymore without it evoking the thought of soft porn?
Self-made?
63 Marbles
He was a self-made man who owed his lack of success to nobody.
Joseph Heller
Okay, I know I’ve mentioned that Jay-Z interview twice already but I’m going to mention it again. It’s not like I’m a huge fan or that it was so profound, but I found a few elements that were thought-provoking. In the introduction, he was touted as a “self-made man” and as the cameras scanned the crowd of adoring fans, I wondered, “Is anyone ever self-made?” Where would he be without all the countless encouraging hands along the way? Would he be the same person today without those discouraging feet that tried to trip him? And now, who would he be without his audience? Where would he be without the people who liked him enough to spend their cash on an album? A concert ticket? And now, clothing?
Yeah, I get it, he took initiative and saw a dream for himself beyond where he came from, but we support each other in countless ways. We are all involved in a human web of interconnections and, as the old saying goes, no man is an island.
Admittedly, the idea of being self-made is a bit of a trigger for me. As someone who was adopted who grew into an entrepreneur, Ex-man prided himself on being self-made. He bought his own car even before he could drive, bought his own house, owned his own business, all without financial help from his parents. But was this little story even true? His adopted parents brought him into their family and raised him, paying for his private school education.
He was a self-made man who owed his lack of success to nobody.
Joseph Heller
Okay, I know I’ve mentioned that Jay-Z interview twice already but I’m going to mention it again. It’s not like I’m a huge fan or that it was so profound, but I found a few elements that were thought-provoking. In the introduction, he was touted as a “self-made man” and as the cameras scanned the crowd of adoring fans, I wondered, “Is anyone ever self-made?” Where would he be without all the countless encouraging hands along the way? Would he be the same person today without those discouraging feet that tried to trip him? And now, who would he be without his audience? Where would he be without the people who liked him enough to spend their cash on an album? A concert ticket? And now, clothing?
Yeah, I get it, he took initiative and saw a dream for himself beyond where he came from, but we support each other in countless ways. We are all involved in a human web of interconnections and, as the old saying goes, no man is an island.
Admittedly, the idea of being self-made is a bit of a trigger for me. As someone who was adopted who grew into an entrepreneur, Ex-man prided himself on being self-made. He bought his own car even before he could drive, bought his own house, owned his own business, all without financial help from his parents. But was this little story even true? His adopted parents brought him into their family and raised him, paying for his private school education.
When we were together, I came to see his personal narrative as an indication of his unease in being open, vulnerable, and interdependent with others. I used to know a numerologist who would tell me, “You’re trying to make a relationship work with a man who is a loner.” The one thing he couldn’t do ‘on his own’ was have babies. Every woman who stands beside someone who is “self-made” knows that it’s one of the largest lies on the planet.
Journalist George Matthew Adams wrote, “There is no such thing as a self-made man. We are made up of thousands of others.” Yet there is a balance between acknowledging and appreciating our interdependence with others and being responsible for our own life and our own choices. The trick is to know that, even though you may be following your own unique path, you could not travel it without the help and support of countless others.
I’ll end by thanking Ex-man, for without him, there would be no 365 Marbles.
Are you comfortable with the balance of independence and interdependence in your life?
Journalist George Matthew Adams wrote, “There is no such thing as a self-made man. We are made up of thousands of others.” Yet there is a balance between acknowledging and appreciating our interdependence with others and being responsible for our own life and our own choices. The trick is to know that, even though you may be following your own unique path, you could not travel it without the help and support of countless others.
I’ll end by thanking Ex-man, for without him, there would be no 365 Marbles.
Are you comfortable with the balance of independence and interdependence in your life?
I Can’t Get No Satisfaction
64 Marbles
It’s the journey you want. There is no destination that will finally satisfy you. Ever.
Abraham Hicks
In Marble 70 I journeyed into the world of “successful” people who weren’t happy. This made me realize that the destination of success in a writing career won’t make me happy because there will always be something else on the horizon on which to focus. If you equate happiness with a destination, happiness becomes the moving water mirage that you can never quite reach to quench the thirst of desire. I knew I had to shift my framework. But what would I switch it to when all around me I see the idea that achievement/consumerism are the keys to a successful life?
Dukkha, translated as suffering/dissatisfaction/anxiety, is one of the noble truths of Buddhism. Human life is seen to experience Dukkha in three ways: the physical suffering of being in a human form (being born, illness, and dying); the suffering produced by trying to hold onto things that are constantly in flux (like trying to hold onto the dream of a relationship that is long gone); and the lack of satisfaction felt when things don’t meet up to our expectations or standards (I know this one well too). Ugh! Is my suffering and dissatisfaction part of my birthright or is there a paradigm shift that will allow me to be happy regardless of my actual circumstances?
I’ve been pondering these questions over the last few marbles when a friend sent me this thirst-quenching link:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QaPtFa_9760&feature=share Wow! These were the words that I needed to hear. Thanks to Abraham Hicks who gave this insight into the gap between desire and manifestation:
Abraham Hicks
In Marble 70 I journeyed into the world of “successful” people who weren’t happy. This made me realize that the destination of success in a writing career won’t make me happy because there will always be something else on the horizon on which to focus. If you equate happiness with a destination, happiness becomes the moving water mirage that you can never quite reach to quench the thirst of desire. I knew I had to shift my framework. But what would I switch it to when all around me I see the idea that achievement/consumerism are the keys to a successful life?
Dukkha, translated as suffering/dissatisfaction/anxiety, is one of the noble truths of Buddhism. Human life is seen to experience Dukkha in three ways: the physical suffering of being in a human form (being born, illness, and dying); the suffering produced by trying to hold onto things that are constantly in flux (like trying to hold onto the dream of a relationship that is long gone); and the lack of satisfaction felt when things don’t meet up to our expectations or standards (I know this one well too). Ugh! Is my suffering and dissatisfaction part of my birthright or is there a paradigm shift that will allow me to be happy regardless of my actual circumstances?
I’ve been pondering these questions over the last few marbles when a friend sent me this thirst-quenching link:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QaPtFa_9760&feature=share Wow! These were the words that I needed to hear. Thanks to Abraham Hicks who gave this insight into the gap between desire and manifestation:
The majority of my work is getting up to speed with my idea…The fact that I’m calling it (the goal) BIG means I’m not up to speed with it otherwise I’d be calling it normal, logical, certain, or inevitable…BIG just emphasizes the gap between where I am and what I want. It’s certain, inevitable, eventual. I’m going to have fun in the honing of the vibration that allows it to come to me and the longer it takes, the more fun I’ll have. If it comes tomorrow, then I’ll be looking for something else.
I like that I’ve given birth to this and I like that it’s mine and I like the journey on the way to it. And when it manifests, I’ll be better for having wanted it. If you’ll let the journey be your goal rather than the destination, then you’re having instant success and the manifestation is certain. But if the destination is your goal and you’re not there, now you’re introducing resistance which will hold it off until you stop doing that.
Let go of the absence of it. Let go of the manifested absence of it before the manifested presence will be yours. Say, “I always get what I want eventually. I now understand the laws of the universe. My singular endeavor is to ready myself for the receiving of it in my grid…I’ve just got to bring my vibration in my grid up to the vibrational level of it and then I will experience the revelation of the path along the way. So much fun.
Hmmm, sounds familiar. I interrupt this to insert a similar viewpoint from Einstein:
"Everything is energy and that's all there is to it. Match the frequency of the reality you want and you cannot help but get that reality. It can be no other way. This is not philosophy. This is physics."
Now back to Abraham:
Now back to Abraham:
If we’ve convinced you that it’s the journey you want, then we’re home free, or you are, but if you think that this is a conversation that will lead you more quickly to the destination that you’re unhappy without, then we’ve made no headway at all.
You’re used to focusing on manifestations and having celebrations when a manifestation happens.
The more fun you’re having, the faster your track is unfolding for the manifestation but there’s no rush because the manifestation is certain. But if you’re not uneasy in the pre-manifestation stages then it will come more quickly and you’ll have more fun along the way.
Say, “I’ve done the work. I’m trying to figure out how to bring myself up to speed. There’s nothing that I can do right now that can speed it along because if I offer my action in the attitude that I’m speeding it along then I’m focused on the absence of it and I’m shooting myself in the foot. So if I wait for inspired action then when the inspired action comes then I have that triumphant moment of knowing that it has come.”
Everything you want is so you will feel better so if you can figure out how to feel better before it comes along then you will have it figured out.
Bingo! So my only job is to bring my presence to the journey, day to day, marble by marble. With my focus in the present moment I say,”I am here. You find me.”
Can you switch your focus from the horizon the the place where you are standing? Can you wait for inspired action to inform your next move?
* Check out Tom Shadyac’s documentary, “I Am” http://iamthedoc.com/ available on iTunes
Can you switch your focus from the horizon the the place where you are standing? Can you wait for inspired action to inform your next move?
* Check out Tom Shadyac’s documentary, “I Am” http://iamthedoc.com/ available on iTunes
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)