Sometimes, in the stillness of a night or in a moment of sweet repose there is a clarity heretofore unknown. An understanding of the machinations through which we put ourselves, hanging on to painful memories, bitter disappointments, and our own sins of omission and commission. How much have we held on to that which causes us pain? Or grief? Or sorrow? Or fear? Or, as Frank Conroy wrote of in his memoir Stop-Time, to “irrelevant tears?”
The thing is, I seem to at long last be learning, we get something from these feelings. We need to feel sad or small or angry or a failure or doomed. If we embrace those feelings, then we trick ourselves into thinking we will be immune from the pain when it is once and for all established that we, in fact, are sad or small or angry or a failure or doomed.
Problem is, it doesn’t work. Never has. Never will.
These terms are overly simplistic, wrongheaded, and self-tortuous at best. An emotion is just that, an emotion. Eckhart Tolle suggests (and for the record, I think he’s right) that if we allow ourselves to feel whatever we are feeling then it will soon simply matter less, hurt less, and do less damage. If we accept that “there is, at times, an unhappiness within us,” the mere act of acceptance begins to rob that unhappiness of its power. Because the thing to remember is: that unhappiness or fear or anger is not us, it is not you, it is not me – it is simply and solely a feeling that exists at a particular time. If we accept it and let it be okay, we soon learn that there are a bunch of other emotions we are capable of feeling at the same time. Gratitude, peace, calm, love.
We live in the moment that is, regardless of what we so often tell ourselves. I know that I spent more years than I care to mention spending all my energies (or nearly so) anticipating how GREAT things were going to be when x, y, or z happened. But it never really pans out that way, does it? Of course not. Why? Because by the time those things happen, we already have compiled a new list of x’s, y’s, and z’s that are required in order for us to be happy, to be content, to be whole.
We’re whole right this very second. This one. No, this one. This one. You see? It is always about the moment in which we are, the moment we live is this one right now. Enjoy it!
Namaste.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Laying One’s Self Off
Today I laid myself off. Put myself on furlough? Trotted myself over to the Illinois Department of Employment Security to apply for unemployment benefits for the first time in the nearly seventeen years that I’ve lived in this state.
Work has rather dried up. The last project my company (Russell Creative, Inc.) produced was in January. The last paycheck I was able to cut for myself was more than a month ago. So now I’ve laid myself off.
But think about that terminology for a moment. It’s patently ridiculous in some fundamental ways. I am, after all, still myself. The “self” that others recognize in me still exists, it’s not as if that “self” or “identity” has been released, let go, set aside for a time. I am me and I am always me – working or not, writing or not, fill-in-the-blanks. Only death will terminate my “me-ness,” my identity. And my identity is not what I do to make a living, what I do to keep food on the table and clothes on my back.
More accurate than “I am me” is “I am.” That’s it. It’s that simple. It’s the same for you. You are. You exist. You live.
Of course it’s not a terribly pleasant event to “lay one’s self off” but it’s important to maintain a perspective. Unemployment Insurance is just that: it’s insurance! My company has paid the premiums for years, now, and I’ve simply never filed a claim before today. I probably should have done so long before today. After all, if you get sick, do you not go see a doctor? (At least if it’s a serious enough illness and you have insurance.) If you have insurance, you use it. Why should it be different as regards unemployment insurance? Why should there be a stigma or a stain to filing for something to which we are entitled – not because the “state” should take care of us, nonsense! – but because we paid for it. I had to give myself a talking to in order to convince myself to file the claim, believe you me. I can be a stubborn so-and-so sometimes, nearly always to my own detriment, my own harm.
Therefore, new language: Today, I temporarily discontinued my employment with my company and filed for insurance benefits to help until the next project comes along or I find a different job. Isn’t that a tad bit less negative?
Namaste.
Work has rather dried up. The last project my company (Russell Creative, Inc.) produced was in January. The last paycheck I was able to cut for myself was more than a month ago. So now I’ve laid myself off.
But think about that terminology for a moment. It’s patently ridiculous in some fundamental ways. I am, after all, still myself. The “self” that others recognize in me still exists, it’s not as if that “self” or “identity” has been released, let go, set aside for a time. I am me and I am always me – working or not, writing or not, fill-in-the-blanks. Only death will terminate my “me-ness,” my identity. And my identity is not what I do to make a living, what I do to keep food on the table and clothes on my back.
More accurate than “I am me” is “I am.” That’s it. It’s that simple. It’s the same for you. You are. You exist. You live.
Of course it’s not a terribly pleasant event to “lay one’s self off” but it’s important to maintain a perspective. Unemployment Insurance is just that: it’s insurance! My company has paid the premiums for years, now, and I’ve simply never filed a claim before today. I probably should have done so long before today. After all, if you get sick, do you not go see a doctor? (At least if it’s a serious enough illness and you have insurance.) If you have insurance, you use it. Why should it be different as regards unemployment insurance? Why should there be a stigma or a stain to filing for something to which we are entitled – not because the “state” should take care of us, nonsense! – but because we paid for it. I had to give myself a talking to in order to convince myself to file the claim, believe you me. I can be a stubborn so-and-so sometimes, nearly always to my own detriment, my own harm.
Therefore, new language: Today, I temporarily discontinued my employment with my company and filed for insurance benefits to help until the next project comes along or I find a different job. Isn’t that a tad bit less negative?
Namaste.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The Soul of Creative Writing
A couple of hours ago I finished rereading Richard Goodman’s terrific, charming, engaging, and insightful book, The Soul of Creative Writing. [Full disclosure: Richard was my mentor for my first term in Spalding University’s Brief Residency MFA in Writing program.] I first read the book just as my six months of working with Richard as a mentor was commencing. I’ve spent nearly six months with a different mentor – working in a different genre as well, fiction rather than creative nonfiction – but, as I’m returning to creative nonfiction for my final two semesters at Spalding, I was required to read Richard’s book again, as it is the Faculty Book in Common for my upcoming May residency.
I am so grateful that I “had” to read this book again. Richard’s breezy and confident narrative voice – dare I say avuncular? – is pitch perfect in each of these ten essays that he likes to describe as “a love letter to the English language.” Indeed, it is. If you care a whit about the English language, about words, then you simply must read this book!!!!!!!!!!!! (Those who have read the book already will carefully note how many exclamation points I used at the end of the last sentence. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.)
Richard’s writing is, quite simply, inspirational. His command of the language is impressive and his respect for it is readily apparent on every delicious page. (I know writers are counseled to avoid adjectives whenever possible, but sometimes they are required.)
The Soul of Creative Writing has recently been released in paperback, so do yourself a favor and surf on over to Amazon or walk down the street to your savvy independent bookseller and get yourself a copy right away. It’s that good.
Ever wonder how to approach finding the “exact right word” or “le mote juste,” as Richard’s hero Flaubert is said to have written of? Read this book. Want to know how strong and resilient punctuation is and what wonders a writer can accomplish through the creative use of punctuation? Read this book. Care about rubbing shoulders against some of the greatest literary figures in Western literature? Read this book. Now. Go on. Do it.
You’ll thank me.
Namaste.
I am so grateful that I “had” to read this book again. Richard’s breezy and confident narrative voice – dare I say avuncular? – is pitch perfect in each of these ten essays that he likes to describe as “a love letter to the English language.” Indeed, it is. If you care a whit about the English language, about words, then you simply must read this book!!!!!!!!!!!! (Those who have read the book already will carefully note how many exclamation points I used at the end of the last sentence. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.)
Richard’s writing is, quite simply, inspirational. His command of the language is impressive and his respect for it is readily apparent on every delicious page. (I know writers are counseled to avoid adjectives whenever possible, but sometimes they are required.)
The Soul of Creative Writing has recently been released in paperback, so do yourself a favor and surf on over to Amazon or walk down the street to your savvy independent bookseller and get yourself a copy right away. It’s that good.
Ever wonder how to approach finding the “exact right word” or “le mote juste,” as Richard’s hero Flaubert is said to have written of? Read this book. Want to know how strong and resilient punctuation is and what wonders a writer can accomplish through the creative use of punctuation? Read this book. Care about rubbing shoulders against some of the greatest literary figures in Western literature? Read this book. Now. Go on. Do it.
You’ll thank me.
Namaste.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Disambiguation
Isn’t that a wonderful word? It carries a couple of meanings. On the most basic level, it is the act of making unambiguous, or, to put it another way, the attainment of clarity. It also has a linguistic meaning, which is the establishment of a single semantic or grammatical interpretation of a word or phrase – for instance the word “bass” can be both a fish and a low, male voice type. Disambiguation clears it up.
I’m using the former definition in regards to what I experienced this past weekend. I was mired in ambiguity, betwixt and between (to use a cliché), and struggling with anxiety – both of known and unknown causes. Finding myself in a bit of an existential quandary and facing some long-standing demons, I started to listen to and read Eckhart Tolle’s “A New Earth.” In it, he suggests that we (many, if not most of us) are driven by ego and thoughts, that we define ourselves by what we think and believe rather than who we really are behind our thoughts, behind the received wisdom that colors so much of our thinking and our behaviors. He talks about how we often take (perceive) negative events (even something as impersonal as a snowstorm) personally, as if the weather cares about us one whit!, one iota!, and demonstrates the awakening power of separating one’s self from an emotion and recognizing it for what it is, thereby defanging it of its power to cause anguish.
While this entry will in no way be a comprehensive study of Tolle’s book (I’m still reading it, after all), I would like to share one remarkable re-casting of the word “sin” that he provides early in the book: He writes, “Literally translated from the ancient Greek in which the New Testament was written, to sin means to miss the mark, as an archer who misses the target, so to sin means to miss the point of human existence. It means to live unskillfully, blindly, and thus to suffer and cause suffering.” Wow. I love that definition. It makes so much more sense to me than my previous understanding of the word, which had something to do with doing bad things like stealing or lying or cheating on your taxes.
In this definition, Christianity’s “original sin” (a term with which I have never been comfortable) is not as harsh as it has always seemed to me. It is a missing of the mark, an error, or, for tennis fans, an unforced error. Isn’t that radically different than a clear “wrong?” Tolle writes of a “dysfunction inherent in the human condition.” This dysfunction is, largely, a confusion between the endless array of thoughts that stream through our minds constantly and the notion of who we really are. We think that our thoughts define who we are when, in reality, who we are is simply who we are. Behind the thoughts. In spite of the thoughts, perhaps. Our thoughts matter, of course, but they no more define who we are than what we order for lunch does.
My first posting to this blog was entitled “Embracing Ambiguity.” This evening, I am enjoying embracing disambiguity. Clarity. Peace. As Confucius said, “The beginning of wisdom is to call things by their right names.” I think the beginning of being able to do that is recognizing that our feelings do not define us; they are part of us. Recognizing that our response to any given situation is more operative than the situation itself. As Tolle observes in his book, "The Power of Now," (and I'm paraphrasing here) even on the cloudiest day, the sun is still there, it’s still in the sky, we just can’t see it for a short time. But we can take comfort in the clear and certain knowledge that it is still on the job.
Namaste.
I’m using the former definition in regards to what I experienced this past weekend. I was mired in ambiguity, betwixt and between (to use a cliché), and struggling with anxiety – both of known and unknown causes. Finding myself in a bit of an existential quandary and facing some long-standing demons, I started to listen to and read Eckhart Tolle’s “A New Earth.” In it, he suggests that we (many, if not most of us) are driven by ego and thoughts, that we define ourselves by what we think and believe rather than who we really are behind our thoughts, behind the received wisdom that colors so much of our thinking and our behaviors. He talks about how we often take (perceive) negative events (even something as impersonal as a snowstorm) personally, as if the weather cares about us one whit!, one iota!, and demonstrates the awakening power of separating one’s self from an emotion and recognizing it for what it is, thereby defanging it of its power to cause anguish.
While this entry will in no way be a comprehensive study of Tolle’s book (I’m still reading it, after all), I would like to share one remarkable re-casting of the word “sin” that he provides early in the book: He writes, “Literally translated from the ancient Greek in which the New Testament was written, to sin means to miss the mark, as an archer who misses the target, so to sin means to miss the point of human existence. It means to live unskillfully, blindly, and thus to suffer and cause suffering.” Wow. I love that definition. It makes so much more sense to me than my previous understanding of the word, which had something to do with doing bad things like stealing or lying or cheating on your taxes.
In this definition, Christianity’s “original sin” (a term with which I have never been comfortable) is not as harsh as it has always seemed to me. It is a missing of the mark, an error, or, for tennis fans, an unforced error. Isn’t that radically different than a clear “wrong?” Tolle writes of a “dysfunction inherent in the human condition.” This dysfunction is, largely, a confusion between the endless array of thoughts that stream through our minds constantly and the notion of who we really are. We think that our thoughts define who we are when, in reality, who we are is simply who we are. Behind the thoughts. In spite of the thoughts, perhaps. Our thoughts matter, of course, but they no more define who we are than what we order for lunch does.
My first posting to this blog was entitled “Embracing Ambiguity.” This evening, I am enjoying embracing disambiguity. Clarity. Peace. As Confucius said, “The beginning of wisdom is to call things by their right names.” I think the beginning of being able to do that is recognizing that our feelings do not define us; they are part of us. Recognizing that our response to any given situation is more operative than the situation itself. As Tolle observes in his book, "The Power of Now," (and I'm paraphrasing here) even on the cloudiest day, the sun is still there, it’s still in the sky, we just can’t see it for a short time. But we can take comfort in the clear and certain knowledge that it is still on the job.
Namaste.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Not religious… but, Spiritual
In her blog, “All Shall Be Well,” my mother writes the following, in part as a response to the first entry in this blog:
“I still struggle with what it means to be ‘spiritual’. I have often said the same thing myself, ‘I’m not religious, but I’m spiritual.’ What does that mean to me? What does that mean to my son?”
While I certainly can’t ascertain precisely what this means to my mother, I can attempt to answer what it means to me, her son.
It is not an easy question to answer.
What chafes me about many (most?) organized religions is their dogma, their certainty that theirs is the one, true, right way – especially when this is extended to the absolutely ridiculous notion that all “nonbelievers” (meaning people of other faiths as well as true nonbelievers) shall be condemned to hell or some such excruciatingly painful place. I believe in Hell. It’s here. In the Elah Valley. In the deserts of Darfur. In Bagdhad or Bangladesh or the barrios of the Bronx. What I don’t believe is that Hell is a fiery place overseen by Beelzebub in red cape and horns.
So, why would I assert that “I am not religious, but I am spiritual?” I suppose it has something to do in how one looks at the women and men around us. My wife Gloria likes to ask: “Do you think man is inherently good or inherently evil?”
Well, we can all point to countless examples of man’s inhumanity towards man and of countless deeds that appear very evil indeed. On the other hand, we can see many examples of good if we allow ourselves to recognize them. (These acts tend to receive less newsprint than the latest murder or genocide or Ponzi scheme.)
I guess I embrace the word “spiritual” because I think there is more that binds us together than that drives us apart. We all must share the scarce resources of this tiny planet hurtling through space at I-can’t-recall-how-many-miles-an-hour. We all breathe from the same atmosphere, and we are all impacted by the billions of gallons of pollution that choke it on a daily basis. We all derive benefit from our various communities – be they friends, family, book discussion groups, or churches. (I’m not anti-church, per se, I just choose not to participate.)
So, these shared experiences, these communities that enrich and enliven and support our lives are perhaps what constitutes “spirituality” for me. I’ll borrow another phrase from my wife, who is also not religious, despite having been raised as a Catholic. She has told me several times about the experience of looking out on the vast, beautiful expanse of Lake Michigan, which is only a mile or so from our house. She’ll describe her awe and wonder and then thinking, or even saying aloud, “I didn’t make this.” Indeed. Whether you call it nature or God or Allah, not one of us can take credit for the grandeur of the Rockies or the lush beauty of the Everglades. Organized religion didn’t make it, either. And no matter what they tell you, they don’t know who did. This is the mystery. This is what “spiritual” means to me.
“I still struggle with what it means to be ‘spiritual’. I have often said the same thing myself, ‘I’m not religious, but I’m spiritual.’ What does that mean to me? What does that mean to my son?”
While I certainly can’t ascertain precisely what this means to my mother, I can attempt to answer what it means to me, her son.
It is not an easy question to answer.
What chafes me about many (most?) organized religions is their dogma, their certainty that theirs is the one, true, right way – especially when this is extended to the absolutely ridiculous notion that all “nonbelievers” (meaning people of other faiths as well as true nonbelievers) shall be condemned to hell or some such excruciatingly painful place. I believe in Hell. It’s here. In the Elah Valley. In the deserts of Darfur. In Bagdhad or Bangladesh or the barrios of the Bronx. What I don’t believe is that Hell is a fiery place overseen by Beelzebub in red cape and horns.
So, why would I assert that “I am not religious, but I am spiritual?” I suppose it has something to do in how one looks at the women and men around us. My wife Gloria likes to ask: “Do you think man is inherently good or inherently evil?”
Well, we can all point to countless examples of man’s inhumanity towards man and of countless deeds that appear very evil indeed. On the other hand, we can see many examples of good if we allow ourselves to recognize them. (These acts tend to receive less newsprint than the latest murder or genocide or Ponzi scheme.)
I guess I embrace the word “spiritual” because I think there is more that binds us together than that drives us apart. We all must share the scarce resources of this tiny planet hurtling through space at I-can’t-recall-how-many-miles-an-hour. We all breathe from the same atmosphere, and we are all impacted by the billions of gallons of pollution that choke it on a daily basis. We all derive benefit from our various communities – be they friends, family, book discussion groups, or churches. (I’m not anti-church, per se, I just choose not to participate.)
So, these shared experiences, these communities that enrich and enliven and support our lives are perhaps what constitutes “spirituality” for me. I’ll borrow another phrase from my wife, who is also not religious, despite having been raised as a Catholic. She has told me several times about the experience of looking out on the vast, beautiful expanse of Lake Michigan, which is only a mile or so from our house. She’ll describe her awe and wonder and then thinking, or even saying aloud, “I didn’t make this.” Indeed. Whether you call it nature or God or Allah, not one of us can take credit for the grandeur of the Rockies or the lush beauty of the Everglades. Organized religion didn’t make it, either. And no matter what they tell you, they don’t know who did. This is the mystery. This is what “spiritual” means to me.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Cory Booker Is Da Bomb
Okay folks. This guy is the real deal. Tonight, my wife and I watched Bill Maher’s show “Real Time” that originally aired last night (Friday, March 6th). Cory Booker, the Mayor of Newark, New Jersey, was one of the panelists. This man is a breath of fresh air. He is a pragmatist and a positive person and a true American – what word should I use here? – I’m not particularly fond of the word “hero,” and I don’t know whether or not he’s done anything particularly heroic, so let me just say he’s an American. Who wants to find solutions.
He’s not interested in demonizing others and casting blame and pointing fingers, he’s interested in working to solve problems in our communities. Where we live. Where we work to pay our bills and raise our children and keep our streets safe. This man should be the second African-American elected president, after Barack Obama has served eight years!
There is wisdom in some of the simplest things we were taught when we were young. Treat others as you would like to be treated. Don’t take what isn’t yours. If you borrow a tool or a pen or an anything, put it back where you found it. These are not tough lessons to learn. But, apparently we need to learn them again as a country.
The real estate market didn’t implode by itself. It had help. It had help from greedy speculators who were looking to make a quick buck. It had help from normal folks who thought they could bite off more than they could chew. Regardless, we are all in the fix now, and we all need to try to be part of the solution rather than part of the problem. We need to spend wisely and save what we can. We need to support those in our communities who need help. We need to not stuff money into our mattresses, but save it or invest it or spend it – wisely.
But who am I? I’m just another Chicago writer…
He’s not interested in demonizing others and casting blame and pointing fingers, he’s interested in working to solve problems in our communities. Where we live. Where we work to pay our bills and raise our children and keep our streets safe. This man should be the second African-American elected president, after Barack Obama has served eight years!
There is wisdom in some of the simplest things we were taught when we were young. Treat others as you would like to be treated. Don’t take what isn’t yours. If you borrow a tool or a pen or an anything, put it back where you found it. These are not tough lessons to learn. But, apparently we need to learn them again as a country.
The real estate market didn’t implode by itself. It had help. It had help from greedy speculators who were looking to make a quick buck. It had help from normal folks who thought they could bite off more than they could chew. Regardless, we are all in the fix now, and we all need to try to be part of the solution rather than part of the problem. We need to spend wisely and save what we can. We need to support those in our communities who need help. We need to not stuff money into our mattresses, but save it or invest it or spend it – wisely.
But who am I? I’m just another Chicago writer…
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Dilated Eyes Can't See So Well...
So about six or seven weeks ago, I went to see an eye doctor to get a new prescription for my glasses - tri-focals, or what they like to call "progressives" thank-you-very-much. During that exam, the doctor determined that there exists some sort of asymmetry between my optic nerves. The left didn't match the right or the other way around. Given that my insurance coverage for medical (as opposed to Vision Care - which optometry falls into, but ophthalmology does not), he was unable to perform the sorts of tests he thought I needed - namely, to determine if I have Glaucoma, so I was referred to another Eye Doc who works with the medical insurance I do carry.
Well, today was the day. Good news, I don't have glaucoma and the Eye Doc thinks it unlikely that I will develop it, although he would like the opportunity to torture me again in a year, if that's all right with me. The bad news. I couldn't see. All day. No reading, no writing. Blurry, blurry, blurry. No focus, no nothing. It is now a little after midnight and I left the doctor's office at approximately 11:15 am. Now, I can finally see, although, truth be told, it's still a little fuzzy.
Now as I write this I am thinking about a friend of mine who lost her sight completely for some time. She wrote a wonderful memoir about her experiences. It's called, "The Seeing Glass." Look it up, get it, read it, you'll enjoy it. So, I know that one day without clear vision and tight focus is not the worst thing in the world to happen. But WOW does it smack you upside the head in the sense of: "This is something I've been taking for granted!" I've taken for granted that I can pick up a book and read it when I want, or do a crossword puzzle when I want, or compose and reply to emails when I want, or write the revisions that I so desperately need to write on 2 or 3 stories currently in progress when I want.
Not so fast Buster. Not if you've just had your eyes dilated. So, I head off to bed soon, grateful that my lids will be covering my weary, blurry focusing eyes, and so very grateful that they will (most likely) focus well again in the morning.
Namaste.
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