Going Deepak
The great thing about someone behaving in a rather childish, petty fashion that momentarily pisses you off is being able to read, ingest really, Deepak Chopra:
All problems contain the seeds of opportunity, and this awareness allows you to take the moment and transform it to a better situation or thing.
Count on it.
Yeeeeha and Amen.
Sunny steps
A spring-like day in New York. I’m walking down the street. A guy walks by me.
“You’re looking gooooood, baby,” he says, low-key and nonchalant. He keeps walking, doesn’t look back.
“Why, thank you, baby,” I say with — I confess — a giggle.
Spring has sprung in January.
The pulpit within
It was almost spooky, really, listening to a message at church this morning that echoed so much of what I posted right here yesterday. It was about illumination and going within and it was delivered by the Rev. August Gold with just the right punch of directness, bawdiness and sincerity to make it rousing.
Now for THAT it’s worth crossing the Hudson River on a cloudy Sunday morning.
I know for a fact that I cannot do her talk justice here. I can only say that it pushed me to rethink the “victim” mentality we so often find ourselves in, to remember how important it is to feel rather than numb our emotions, to go within for answers to our pressing issues. The power in her words was palpable.
And for that we gave her a standing ovation.
Illumination from within
There are these people in life. They shine their spotlight on individuals who they attract into their lives, who in their own way they love. They watch those individuals thrive as the “light” brings out a side of them that is carefree and adventurous, easy and warm. Somehow the “light” makes them feel like they’re living a little more than they were before.
Then after a period of time these people swing their spotlight onto a new subject. Boredom, maybe. Addiction to drama, maybe. Unwitting (?) use of power, maybe. Need for change, maybe. Who knows? But perhaps most importantly, who cares? That’s right, who cares?
Because today, here, we are focusing on the ones who are in that spotlight, thriving for a day, a week, a year before finding themselves in the dark. What makes them attract that spotlight? Why do they need it to feel like they are living? What is it really about? What does it say about them, that they dance and kick around in the sunshine one minute and then flounder and fight off self-hate the next?
It is about the giving away of power or the relying on certain outside forces in order to seize it. It is about filling those spotlight people with what they need to feel good at the cost of self. It is about each individual so often not knowing how to turn on their own power switch.
There is a lesson here. It is imperative that the wiring and bulbs are in place so we can bask in the light we ourselves create. The spotlights that come along will then be a marvelous, luminous bonus.
To memoir or not to memoir
For some reason I had to process this whole James Frey and Oprah thing for 24 hours before expressing myself on it. Now I feel ready.
I read A Million Little Pieces in the fall and loved it. I blogged about it. I talked about it. It’s a phenomenal book. It remains a moving work of art about the unique challenges of drug and alcohol addiction. What apparently has been proven is that it is not a memoir.
Watching James Frey on The Oprah Show yesterday — a benefit of my feeling under the weather, I suppose — I felt very bad for him. I think Oprah was right for the most part, but I couldn’t help but feel he was taking the whole rap for something he was only partly responsible for. He had originally shopped it as a novel with little success. Someone, somewhere must have made some “marketing” suggestions to nudge it along to potential bestseller.
That doesn’t mean I condone the extent to which Frey played with some of the facts in his book or that that absolves him of responsibility. It just makes me feel sad for him. Regardless of any embellishments, what he went through in rehab was heartwrenching and grueling and now he’s made a better life for himself. Sad.
As for Oprah, I was already a fan but I gained immense respect for her. When New York Times columnist Frank Rich lauded her for her turnaround, she quickly said she didn’t want kudos. She was no nonsense and clear and then she dropped it. Richard Cohen, the Washington Post columnist who had ripped into her in a column, sat on her stage seemingly dumbfounded that this woman would have him on her show after he criticized her so roundly. I loved all the honesty on that stage.
It was, as Rich said, “great TV.”
Chakras, Part III
So my throat isn’t as sore as it was two days ago, but I’ve developed a cough due to a gross post-nasal drip. And my head feels a little foggy. It’s a flat-out cold. Annoying.
I was compelled to go back to the chakras. I found a website that explains what illnesses mean with regard to the corresponding chakras. This is what it says for colds:
Fourth Chakra deficient — Unresolved grief, sadness, an extended cry
Now here’s the explanation of Chakra Four:
Air, Social identity, Oriented to self-acceptance. This chakra is called the heart chakra and is the middle chakra in a system of seven. It is related to love and is the integrator of opposites in the psyche: mind and body, male and female, persona and shadow, ego and unity. A healthy fourth chakra allows us to love deeply, feel compassion, have a deep sense of peace and centeredness.
My God, this is so dead on for me right now. The integration of inner “things,” the striving for centeredness, the questions about love and loving.
The quest continues.
Ch-ch-ch-chakras
Yesterday I wrote about my sore throat and what it revealed to me. In a nutshell, it was that the fifth chakra, the throat chakra, is about authentic communication.
That has guided me so well already, in several situations today. I must be more thoughtful and thorough in my communication. So often I say things or react in certain ways and then I don’t see those things through. People are then left to draw conclusions based on incomplete words or actions. I must take responsibility for that. I must strive to be 100 percent, take-it-or-leave-it authentic. In fact, I must roll around in it and celebrate it.
Yes. This is good.
My throat sure appreciates it.
Throat chakra
I was awakened in the middle of the night by a sore throat. No other symptoms, just that feeling that you can feel your ears when you swallow.
So after two rounds of Airborne I did a bit of Google-ing (man, I love that) on sore throats and chakras to find out what it all means aside from wacky weather changes and low resistance. Here is what I found — the throat is the fifth chakra. It’s about expression and communication, about communicating authentically.
Some highlights of my research:
Communication is essential to create successful relationships. Without open, honest expression of our wants, desires and needs, relationships soon become stale, falter and fail.
We cannot even begin to know ourselves unless we are real with others and create a safe space for them to be real with us.
Discharge and release pent-up frustrations and negativities in healthy ways, such as exercise.
Learn methods of communication and healing that will benefit all of your relationships: lovers, children, co-workers, family and friends. Clear your energy centers for love, fun and pleasure. You’re worthy. You deserve all the joy life can give.
How wonderful is that to embrace? Sore throat be gone.
Ann Arbor
I am reminded this week of my journalism fellowship at the University of Michigan (1996-97). I received an email announcing a reunion in the fall. Then there was another email, this one requesting stories from those of us who have become entrepreneurs so they could put it in the newsletter.
Aaaahhhhh. Ann Arbor. Sixteen of us, journalists from around the country and the world with two semesters to audit classes, attend seminars, read, be social, expand our minds, stroll shops, take trips. For me it was a chance to be a part of a real campus atmosphere, as my undergrad experience was a commute to a state college.
That fellowship changed my life in so many ways I couldn’t begin to cover it here. Suffice to say when I moved to Hoboken my brother aptly noted, “It appears as if you’re trying to duplicate your Michigan experience.” He was referring to my decision to move to an urban place one block off a lively main street, across from a church, much like the apartment I lived in while in Ann Arbor. All that and Manhattan across the river? What could be better?
Perhaps most importantly I learned the value of filling the well, as Julia Cameron calls it in The Artist’s Way. Having the time to read and attend lively discussions and just be idle feels a whole lot like living to me. The typical American allows herself so little time to do those things.
In addition to all of that, one of the most significant friendships in my life was formed while in Michigan. I treasure it so.
All of it.
Lipstick Jungle
Finished reading Lipstick Jungle today. I have immense respect for Candace Bushnell’s work, being a big fan of Sex and the City. This latest work, however, wasn’t particularly compelling. Yet it would probably make great TV.
Hmmmm. I guess what I’m trying to say is the characters are rich and well drawn but the storyline didn’t grab me. It had its moments, though. And there are nuggets of real, relatable things in the novel. I am intrigued by the idea of seeing it come to life on the tube, as it’s filled with glitz and glamour.
The title refers to New York City’s prominent businesswomen getting into the thick of corporate competition. Clever. And it makes for a highly attractive cover.
As an artist currently wrestling with plot and conflict issues in my own book in progress, I found it illuminating to partake in someone else’s artistic creation.
It’s called “filling the well.”
