I'd be doing alright if...

For all their kitsch, a lot of Abba's songs had a lot of truth to them--like this one. Problems always seem worse at night. And, for me, first thing in the morning. No matter what the problem, all my life when I was upset about something I dreaded going to bed the most. And waking up didn't feel much better. (Shakespeare was wrong about that sleeve gag.)

By midday I'm alright, and in the evening I'm quite good. But if the desire to cry is going to finally overpower me, it'll be at lights out. I even remember that from childhood.

(Except when I'm on Topomax. Then it'll be in broad daylight at abusy intersection of Cote Vertu.)

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

Toons and inspirationes (Some Point is now)

Busy drywalling tonight. My first time ever, I'm terrible at it. Anyway, so here are just some cartoons my brother's sent me in the past, and Inspirational Thingies I got off facebook, that I wanted to share at some point. That point has come.

(Opening them in a new window should make some of them larger.)

This is my mum's dog Sassy. Not in looks, but I mean she's always trying to escape and go on neighborhood adventures. And she succeeds! Then I have to patrol the backyard fence to figure out where there's a gap or a hole.

And the cartoon I made of my Mabel Logo, with Minion, Haley and my laptop.

Catsitting Report #5

Went out to store even though it was damned chilly today.

Bought junk food.

Ate, felt sick, ate, felt sick, ate, felt sick and so on.

Got Meow Mix for porch kitties, but still doled out some softies.

JR is sleeping next to me. We've been watching his namesake in the Dallas movies. My friend--as you might have guessed from the cat names--has all the Dallas seasons. The movies were truly execrable, we watched them on fast forward. (Cause all we really want to see are JR and Sue Ellen right?)

I've finally got my laptop plugged in, to the router in the basement. I've enjoyed my mostly internet-break this week, but it's time to catch up.

Been fighting off impending-leaving-my-fambly depression all week. Used meditation--I would meditate until the sick feeling left my stomach. I don't think it will work for the junk food.

Continued reading the Martha Beck book. Edited a novella.

Friend comes home Sunday, so tomorrow evening I'll head home. Leave indoor and outdoor kittehs a stack of niblets.
  

Peeking at Washington

Since being part of an online community, I know more Americans than I ever have before. So I'm even more conscious of just how much people are still feeling the effects of the recession--the difficulty finding jobs and so forth.

The past few weeks Fernando and I watched the Doc Zone series Meltdown, and though there were countries that suffered even worse than the US from the recession (oh my days Iceland, life savings wiped out overnight) there were times I felt like I was reading The Grapes of Wrath again.  In 2008 the recession's first impact on my life was that I took a full-time job I wasn't passionate about because it seemed foolish not to when the opportunity arose. The next few years were taken up with the dramas of my own life, so I feel like it's really in the past months that I've been contemplating the enormity of the crimes of the people who gambled with our economies for their own trivial trivial pleasure. And were given bonuses and allowed to slip away.

"I want to put a tag of shame on the greedy bastards who are responsible for this." - Steinbeck on why he wrote The Grapes of Wrath 

And this week, as my concentration's been momentary broken from my novel, I've taken in the breathtaking awfulness that the Republican Party has become. I was listening to some Tea Party guy on my radio station saying that the idea that the US would have had to default on its debts was a lie, a conspiracy. And I thought, oh my God, the Tea Party's rank and file is made up of radio talk show conspiracy devotees. Nothing wrong with them, I love many including my grandmother (who thinks he town was poisoned by CF lightbulbs, though I think she stops short of calling radio shows).

But unlike the set Stephen Colbert makes fun of, I do believe in being advised by experts and "cleaning up Washington" shouldn't mean draining it of intelligence. (Case in point: No one consulted experts when they invaded Iraq. Which is why they did things like dismissing the army without first collecting the guns.)

And in any case, there's no Cleaning Up of Washington going on here. If the real drivers behind the TP movement actually succeeded, I suspect the lower case tp's would one day wake up and regard the results with misgiving. ...If they weren't all jobless and homeless by then. My friend K posted this article on her facebook (and most of the rest of the quotes below) about the billionaire origins of the Tea Party movement:

The originators of the Tea Party movement "mobilised the anger of people who found their conditions of life declining, and channelled it into a campaign to make them worse. Tea Party campaigners take to the streets to demand less tax for billionaires and worse health, education and social insurance for themselves. ... A handful of billionaires ... are now breaking and reshaping the system to serve their interests. We knew this once, but now we've forgotten. What hope do we have of resisting a force we won't even see?" (The Guardian)

It reminds me of the idea that the hippie movie was coopted by being commercialized. This is like, rich extremist conversatives protecting their interests and discovering they magically segued with their angry conservative counterparts among the working class, and mobilizing them. "Ya, we want to clean up Washington too! Ya... that's... that's what it's about!"

Lawks a mercy.

"As I write this, I am hearing White House factotums and leading Democratic shills talking about all the “protections” they won in this agreement... This talk obscures the crushing reality of the deal they are about to vote through: the complete exemption of high-net-worth individuals from any kind of sacrifice, now or in the future, while the sick, the poor, the elderly, and school kids will pay the whole tab for America’s return to fiscal discipline." (Religion Dispatches)

My only hope now is that the Tea Party has so far revealed its extremism as to have lost the more moderate edges of its support. I hope, like an Ebola virus, it has overheated and will soon burn out its host. But though I think the Democratic Party will win the Presidential Election, I'm not too confident about Obama, or sure he should win it.

"If I hear one more person try to tell me the deal cut between Congress and the White House was as good as we can expect, that it isn't all bad, I might vomit on them. This whole thing has been a disaster, and no amount of spin can alter the fact. Mr. Obama has taken to the habit of abject retreat with such gusto that he should be outfitted with one of those beeping devices they put on trucks to alert people when they go in reverse." (truthout)

But I don't follow American politics close enough to have a really educated opinion. I'm just feeling sickened.

Hartzell backed a Budget rental truck up to a no-frills apartment building that is on a strip of motels and pawnshops in Tampa, Florida. He had been laid off by a packaging plant during the financial crisis of 2008, had run through his unemployment benefits, and had then taken a part-time job stocking shelves at Target in the middle of the night, for $8.50 an hour. His daughter had developed bone cancer, and he was desperate to make money, but his hours soon dwindled to four or five a week. In April, Hartzell was terminated. His last biweekly paycheck was for a hundred and forty dollars, after taxes.... Representative Paul Ryan’s ten-year budget plan, which remains his party’s blueprint for the future, would impose a fifty-per-cent cut on programs like food stamps and Supplemental Security Income, which, as long as Danny Hartzell remains jobless, represent the Hartzells’ only income. By the last day of June, the Hartzells had twenty-nine dollars to their name. The Republicans in Congress won’t be satisfied until the family is out on the street. (The New Yorker)

And now in Canada we've got the kind of conservative party, and conservative-trash-media, capable of leading us down this particular garden path. As my friend Banane said after our elections, it's all a little too Yeatsian.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert.

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

___________

Second Coming designs by Cassie Dee


           

Advice for feeling broken

Sent to me last month by my friend maewitch, I'd meant to share it but lost it in my maze of always-open-tabs: From elephantjournal.com (Just some passages, so click the link if you want the full essay)

Why Lying Broken in a Pile on Your Bedroom Floor is a Good Idea. ~ Julie (JC) Peters 

The Goddess of never not broken.

You know that feeling when you have just gone through a breakup, or lost your job, and everything is terrible and terrifying and you don’t know what to do, and you find yourself crying in a pile on your bedroom floor, barely able to remember how to use the phone, desperately looking for some sign of God in old letters, or your Facebook newsfeed or on Glee, finding nothing there to comfort you?
 
There is a goddess from Hindu mythology that teaches us that, in this moment, in this pile on the floor, you are more powerful than you’ve ever been: Akhilandeshvari.

 

“Ishvari” in Sanskrit means “goddess” or “female power,” and the “Akhilanda” means essentially “never not broken.”

It’s the kind of broken that tears apart all the stuff that gets us stuck in toxic routines, repeating the same relationships and habits over and over, rather than diving into the scary process of trying something new and unfathomable.

Akhilanda derives her power from being broken: in flux, pulling herself apart, living in different, constant selves at the same time, from never becoming a whole that has limitations.

...In pieces, in a pile on the floor, with no idea how to go forward, your expectations of the future are meaningless. Your stories about the past do not apply. You are in flux, you are changing, you are flowing in a new way, and this is an incredibly powerful opportunity to become new again: to choose how you want to put yourself back together. Confusion can be an incredible teacher—how could you ever learn if you already had it all figured out?
 
...If everything remained the same, if we walked along the same path down to the river every day until there was a groove there (as we do; in Sanskrit this is called Samskara, habits or even “some scars”), this routine would become so limited, so toxic to us that, well, the crocs would catch on, and we’d get plucked from the banks, spun and eaten.
 

So now is the time, this time of confusion and brokenness and fear and sadness, to get up on that fear, ride it down to the river, dip into the waves, and let yourself break. Become a prism.

All the places where you’ve shattered can now reflect light and colour where there was none. Now is the time to become something new, to choose a new whole.

But remember Akhilanda’s lesson: even that new whole, that new, colourful, amazing groove that we create, is an illusion. It means nothing unless we can keep on breaking apart and putting ourselves together again as many times as we need to. We are already “never not broken.” We were never a consistent, limited whole. In our brokenness, we are unlimited. And that means we are amazing.

Songs to Help You Breathe

Matt Willey

I almost posted something about politics, but this isn't a weekend for poopy politics--not during the time of rebirth and renewal and hope. Ease.


Instead, songs about breathing.

Give me a taste of something new
To touch to hold to pull me through
Send me a guiding light that shines
Across this darkened life of mine
Breathe some soul in me
Breathe your gift of love to me
Breathe life to lay 'fore me
Breathe to make me breathe



'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, girl.
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe... just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe



And uploaded from my collection, a gentle traditional hymn interpreted by the gentle voice of Steve Bell. It's the perfect tempo for calm, peaceful breathing. (Interpret the god bits anyway you want.)

I feel the winds of God today
Today my sail I lift
Though heavy oft with drenching spray
And torn with many a rift
...Great pilot of my onward way
Thou wilt not let me drift
I feel the winds of God today
Today my sail I lift

I also found a breathing exercise from zenhabits.net. It's cute!

1. Find something divinely touched, like:

Nature, music, love in any form, yourself doing anything good no matter how tiny...

2. Take a slow deep breath: "Repeat. Each inhalation brings with it more inspiration, and each exhalation releases tension."

3. "You are now filled with the Breath of God. Take this inspiration and use it, be moved, and do something."

   

My drug can take the world's troubles on its shoulders

I decided to cross-post a personal entry today. :-)

Some background info.

1. This past winter my husband and I came to a bit of a crisis point in our marriage. No new issues, just a higher need to finally resolve old ones. And before you express sympathy for me, I've been more of the guilty party. :-(  I actually made myself a star chart to form some new better marriage habits. (Not stars, though. Stickers of kitties and dogs.) (You won't believe how motivated I am by stickers.) Anyway, we got through the worst of it, and we intend to go to counseling later, so all is well.

But the salient info is that almost every time we fought I ended up crying. And to the point that I felt like I was having a nervous breakdown. And one day in February, outside of a comic book store on a busy street, set off by something truly meaningless, I started crying uncontrollably and couldn't stop. This has never happened to me before. It was intellectually interesting. But it also turned out to be the turning point. A week later, after a speech by my husband, and a day of philosophizing while riding around on the bus, I pulled myself out of my general breakdown. But I do still cry easily.

2. I got a cold in February, which landed in my lungs. Once the cold cleared up, my lungs remained inflamed and I've had a cough ever since. Two weeks ago my GP gave me a pump, and it's pretty much gone now.

3. I've had chronic headaches since I was 20 (I'm 37). For a couple years I've been seeing a specialist. I take a daily medication (Elavil) that's helped a lot, and I have good drugs for getting rid of headaches when they come. In January I started a second daily med to prevent headaches. I reached the full dosage my doc was starting me at in February.

Today's Story
Today I went to see my headache doctor and we talked about the Topamax. I'd read about the side effects when I first went on it, but I don't tend to remember everything. And I'm not a worrier, so I don't look for side effects. When I started getting a lot of pins and needles, I remembered it was a side effect. When I was sick and found myself getting hot too easily, I realized I was sweating less and remembered it was a side effect. One day in February I had a Coke that tasted flat even though it wasn't flat, and hours later I remember it was a side effect (isn't that totally weird?)

But I forgot that one possible side effect is sluggish thinking, for example. Probably because I wouldn't want to remember that. I remembered today when she asked me about it. I told her that when I learn new French words, they seem to stick, so no, I don't think it's been a problem.

Then she asked me, how are my moods? I didn't know what she meant. She asked if I was feeling angry, or aggressive? No. Was I crying more?

... !!

Yeeees. I told her about my marriage problems.

She asked if the crying was uncontrollable.

!!!!

I told I thought I'd been having a nervous breakdown!

She kept asking more questions, I assume until she was comfortable I wasn't going into a depression, before upping my Topamax dose. And she said if the side effects get too bad, then to just cut my dose back again.

Just now I went back to re-read the side effects. I can see why the moods thing didn't stick with me, cause it's very broad. It doesn't say "uncontrollable crying" -- that might be something she's run into in her practice, or in journals etc.

BUT. It does say: upper respiratory tract infections.

So the thing is... I'm now going to blame everything in my life on Topamax. Got a cold? It's the Topamax. Marriage problems? Topamax. Cats fighting? Must be the Topamax. Not in the mood to do any chores? Obviously it's the Topamax.

Feel free to blame your problems on my drug too. My drug is big enough to handle it.

I Surrender! (zee art of letting gooo)

Last week Fernando and I watched the episodes of Master Class featuring Oprah. I want to retell a great story she told.

An Oprah Story
She was raped at 9, and pregnant at 14, so when she read The Color Purple she was gobsmacked by it. It starts like this:

The main character has been raped and is pregnant. When Oprah heard it was being made into a movie she was determined to get a part. When she tried out, it was for a role opposite the character Harpo--Oprah spelled backwards. She was sure it was a sign, but the casting director was completely scornful: We have real actresses reading for this part. Alfre Woodard is reading for this part.

Someone told her, if she had any chance at all she'd have to lose weight. So off she went to a fat farm, miserable and hopeless. One day she was running around the track, talking to God. She wondered why he brought her this close to the movie, only to slam the door in her face? But as she ran, she made a decision that she was just going to have to let it go. That if she didn't get the part, it was going to be okay, she just wouldn't see the movie.

But that wasn't good enough, she thought. She had to let it go to the extent that she could see the movie. See the movie and not only accept Alfre Woodard in the part, but enjoy it, and believe her to be the right person for the part. Oprah started singing something to herself, and thinking these thoughts, until she really believed it. Until she finally let The Color Purple go.

RIGHT THEN someone from the retreat ran out and said she had a phone call. It was Steven Spielberg, who was directing The Color Purple. He said: I hear you're at a fat farm. We're considering you for Sofia, but if you lose one pound you might not get the part.

She left the center, and had Dairy Queen on the way home.

"God can dream a bigger dream for me, for you, than you could ever dream for yourself. When you've worked as hard and done as much and strived and tried and given and pled and bargained and hoped...surrender. When you have done all that you can do, and there's nothing left for you to do, give it up. Give it up to that thing that is greater than yourself, and let it then become a part of the flow." (Oprah in Master Class)

I've been thinking about it all week, especially since surrender recently turned up in a card in Julieland and resonated with folk. I don't think we'll all experience the Miracle of the Phone Call at the Fat Farm, but I still think this is great advice: "When you have done all that you can do, and there's nothing left for you to do, give it up."

My Experience

Fernando's avatar.

When my husband and I were first going out, he fell into a depression and I had to ask myself: If he remains like this forever, can I still be with him? And the answer was yes. And that's when I was able to let my worries go. And Cheerful Fernando returned, in his own time.

I was once talking with a friend of Gilby--she was complaining about her boyfriend who always went out with the boys after work and never came home. I gave her the same advice: What if he never changes, can you be happy with him just as he is? She later told Gilby I was an idiot. But only a few months later she'd broken up with the guy and the next time I saw her she had a new man in her life, someone serious and committed to her. My guess is that she let go of the idea that he would change, and that allowed her to let go of him.

Letting go isn't like having a wand that makes your dreams come true the way you want them to. That's not surrender. I think it's about accepting your life as it is in the present, and to accept the idea that if your ideas for the future don't come true, your world won't crumble. And to leave space for even better ideas.

For example, Oprah started off wanting to be a teacher, she became a news reporter, and one day they stuck her on a talk show. And only then did she realize what kind of teacher she wanted to be. She could not have dreamed up that job when she was 10 years old.



The other advantage to letting go is just the peace of mind it brings. What kind of damage do we do to ourselves when we hold onto disappointment and bitterness?

My Final Musings
So. What I've been pondering this week is how to draw the balance between "doing all that you can do" to reach your goals, and "surrendering." Because that's the other part of this statement: You first do everything in your power to make all your goals and dreams come true. Then you let them go. But doing everything can be a long road. If you're trying to be a professional athlete you'll know by a certain age whether it's gonna happen; not so if you're trying to be a published writer.

 

Maybe there's something to be learned from the idea of wu wei, from yesterday's homework:

The Essential Chijang T/L1 Trans Hamill & Seaton

And now I'm curious if anyone else has ever found "letting go" to be true?


[Further edits done April 20.]