In recent days and weeks I’ve felt the need to commune with, to consult with, some masters. Whether it has been my own anxieties or fears or concerns about my life, my relationships, or my work, or the reality of having been bit on the upper lip by my dear dog Beau, I’ve recognized I needed some help.
In earlier posts on this blog I talked about perhaps consulting a psychiatrist, getting on anti-depressants, and a number of other assorted potential solutions. But consulting with the masters has really made a world of difference.
Eckhart Tolle is a master of awakening to the presence, or the Being, that is within us, the awareness that we are, that we exist, and that our existence is really defined by what is happening “now.” We only live in the now, not in the past (unless we choose to, which is generally not very healthy) or in the future, which doesn’t yet exist, so how can we live in it? All of our life, every single day is experienced in this one present moment. As long as we recognize that, indeed, embrace it.
Curtis Scott is an expert dog trainer. He came by the house last Sunday evening. Within five minutes he said, of Beau, “He’s a good dog. There are some issues, he needs leadership, he needs to know who’s boss, but he’s a good dog.” Turns out my wife and I have created a bit of a spoiled brat, and we weren’t paying attention to some of what he (and our other dog, Max) needs. Discipline being one of those things.
Tolle and Scott are masters. They have studied their subjects for many years, they have trained and observed and read and listened and heard and seen things that give them insight and wisdom. How foolish would it be of me to not at least listen to their words, their suggestions, their thoughts? And, when I find them compelling and sense-making, how foolish of me would it be to not work to adjust my own behavior such that I can learn and implement the lessons of their wisdom?
I am working (an irony there!) to be in a state of non-resistance, of acceptance, of embrace, of learning, or growing, of maturing to their wisdom. I have small successes and smaller failures. This is okay. What happens happens. What is this moment is, in fact, what is. (And, this is not dependent upon what the meaning of the word “is” is, as William Jefferson Clinton once famously uttered.)
A friend and colleague called me earlier today to give me an update on a project we’ll be working on together in the upcoming days. She told me what she knew about the project and then said something along the lines of, “There might be a 5-minute video scene, but I won’t know about that until Thursday, if that’s okay.” I replied, “Well it is, so I guess it is okay.” Then I joked, “No, it’s not okay, you need to tell me know!” Isn’t that absurd? And yet, how often do we do that sort of thing rather than accepting that what is is? If she doesn’t know, she doesn’t know, and my wishing that she would know won’t change that. Accepting that fact is liberating. Really.
This lesson I learned from a master. I embrace it.
Namaste.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Taking Things Personally
We all do it from time to time, I suppose. Or, at least many of us do. We take things personally in ways or at times that are not technically appropriate. What do I mean? Well, some of us (I plead guilty to having done this in the past) can, at times, even take something as manifestly not personal as the weather personally. Arrgghh, that wind, that cold, that rain. And, what?? More snow today? It’s the end of March for crying out loud! Like Lear, we rail against the bitter winds that care not a whit about us.
Another example: Our Sheltie, Beau, bit me on the lip the other night. It hurt (still does a little), it was scary, and it is certainly neither acceptable nor appropriate behavior from a dog. But what it wasn’t is: personal. A dog doesn’t distinguish between a nip on the hand or the leg or the face. My wife Gloria and I had a good conversation with a highly experienced dog trainer a short time ago. The gentleman’s name is Curtis Scott and he will be coming by tomorrow evening to get to know Beau and to try to properly diagnose the situation and create a plan to move forward. I don’t know that we’ve completely committed to keeping Beau, but it seems at least worth making this effort to see if we can get control of the problem, reset the roles, and (hopefully) be able to enjoy Beau in a healthier environment again. If we can’t, we’ll do what we need to do.
But I have certainly learned one very important lesson already. Taking this incident personally is not going to lead to a productive way forward. Taking the bite personally leads only to fear and misgivings – and, you know what? I’m kind of over that.
Namaste.
Another example: Our Sheltie, Beau, bit me on the lip the other night. It hurt (still does a little), it was scary, and it is certainly neither acceptable nor appropriate behavior from a dog. But what it wasn’t is: personal. A dog doesn’t distinguish between a nip on the hand or the leg or the face. My wife Gloria and I had a good conversation with a highly experienced dog trainer a short time ago. The gentleman’s name is Curtis Scott and he will be coming by tomorrow evening to get to know Beau and to try to properly diagnose the situation and create a plan to move forward. I don’t know that we’ve completely committed to keeping Beau, but it seems at least worth making this effort to see if we can get control of the problem, reset the roles, and (hopefully) be able to enjoy Beau in a healthier environment again. If we can’t, we’ll do what we need to do.
But I have certainly learned one very important lesson already. Taking this incident personally is not going to lead to a productive way forward. Taking the bite personally leads only to fear and misgivings – and, you know what? I’m kind of over that.
Namaste.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Dog Bites Man
Okay, so I really don’t want this blog to be a downer or anything, but sometimes we don’t exert very much control over what happens in our lives. Yesterday’s news brought the troubling story about the effective end of American Theater Company’s ensemble and the better news that is the flip side of the story: the rebirth of American Blues Theatre, populated by so many artists for whom I have so much respect and affection.
Last night brought another story, the titular story: Dog Bites Man.
Beau is a 5 ½ year old purebred Sheltie who my wife and I adopted about a year and a half ago. Early on in his time with us, he occasionally nipped either Gloria or me. He’s bitten Gloria a couple times when she was brushing him, breaking skin more than once, but it somehow didn’t seem like a huge or insurmountable problem. He’d bitten me on my leg, once on my head when I playing a little too roughly with him, so I always let it go. Until last night.
The scene: Gloria and I are sitting on the couch watching a DVD. Beau is on the couch, lying down between us. At one point, I leaned down to kiss Beau on his head (a gesture I’ve successfully performed hundreds of times), and Beau bit my upper lip, leaving two gaping gashes in the process. The bleeding was, well, profuse. Today, I have a fat lip with two black scabs on it – neither attractive nor comfortable. As much as it breaks my heart, we are going to have to part with Beau. We’re exploring if there is a Sheltie rescue group that might help, we’ve already contacted PAWS (where we’d adopted him) to see if they will take him back. It saddens both of us, but there comes a time when enough is precisely that.
Yesterday when I was walking Beau and his much older brother (figuratively, not literally) Max, there were two different young children who stopped to pet the dogs. Had Beau bitten one of these children (which he didn’t, thankfully) the police would have him put down instantly. It’s a risk we can no longer take, I’m sorry to say.
Here’s to a better day tomorrow.
Namaste.
Last night brought another story, the titular story: Dog Bites Man.
Beau is a 5 ½ year old purebred Sheltie who my wife and I adopted about a year and a half ago. Early on in his time with us, he occasionally nipped either Gloria or me. He’s bitten Gloria a couple times when she was brushing him, breaking skin more than once, but it somehow didn’t seem like a huge or insurmountable problem. He’d bitten me on my leg, once on my head when I playing a little too roughly with him, so I always let it go. Until last night.
The scene: Gloria and I are sitting on the couch watching a DVD. Beau is on the couch, lying down between us. At one point, I leaned down to kiss Beau on his head (a gesture I’ve successfully performed hundreds of times), and Beau bit my upper lip, leaving two gaping gashes in the process. The bleeding was, well, profuse. Today, I have a fat lip with two black scabs on it – neither attractive nor comfortable. As much as it breaks my heart, we are going to have to part with Beau. We’re exploring if there is a Sheltie rescue group that might help, we’ve already contacted PAWS (where we’d adopted him) to see if they will take him back. It saddens both of us, but there comes a time when enough is precisely that.
Yesterday when I was walking Beau and his much older brother (figuratively, not literally) Max, there were two different young children who stopped to pet the dogs. Had Beau bitten one of these children (which he didn’t, thankfully) the police would have him put down instantly. It’s a risk we can no longer take, I’m sorry to say.
Here’s to a better day tomorrow.
Namaste.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
When Families Split
My heart has been heavy today upon learning that twenty-three members of the American Theater Company (ATC) Ensemble have decided to break away from the theater and restart American Blues Theater, which is what ATC was first named when founded in 1985. Nearly one-half (eleven, to be precise) of the departing ensemble members were invited to join the ensemble during my tenure as that theater’s artistic director, between 1997 and 2002.
Let me be very clear: I wish each and every one of those artists (and they are all artists, and highly accomplished artists at that!) nothing but the best. I hope that American Blues Theater rises like the proverbial phoenix from what seems to be a very splintered, very sick ATC. For many years, these people were my family, my “chosen family,” as several of us liked to term it. We spent countless Thanksgivings and New Year’s Days together. We labored to produce plays and to find a way to squeeze two dollars worth of value out of every one dollar we spent together. We lifted many a beer and many a cocktail together. When one of us was sick or mourning, we comforted one another. When one of us suffered a loss – like the death of a family member – we were there for one other. We attended funerals, weddings, and baptisms.
I left my position as artistic director of ATC in October of 2002 because I felt certain that the theater could not only survive, but thrive, without me. And it did. I have had no formal relationship with the theater in these past nearly seven years, but I have continued to support it. I remain close friends with several ensemble members – both past and present, or, present until today – and I have always only wanted the theater to succeed. Today is a death of sorts. And a rebirth, I suppose. But death is always to be mourned. Or at least noted. Respected. As Arthur Miller said, “Attention must be paid.”
My old family is going through a difficult time. I send them my love and support and my very best wishes for happier times ahead. I am so very grateful to have been privileged to lead this extraordinary group of artists for six years, and yet also deeply saddened that the ensemble has been ripped asunder. I hope for healing, both for ATC and for the newly reconstituted American Blues Theater. Or, perhaps they will return to the original spelling, theatre. Either way, I wish them well.
Namaste.
Let me be very clear: I wish each and every one of those artists (and they are all artists, and highly accomplished artists at that!) nothing but the best. I hope that American Blues Theater rises like the proverbial phoenix from what seems to be a very splintered, very sick ATC. For many years, these people were my family, my “chosen family,” as several of us liked to term it. We spent countless Thanksgivings and New Year’s Days together. We labored to produce plays and to find a way to squeeze two dollars worth of value out of every one dollar we spent together. We lifted many a beer and many a cocktail together. When one of us was sick or mourning, we comforted one another. When one of us suffered a loss – like the death of a family member – we were there for one other. We attended funerals, weddings, and baptisms.
I left my position as artistic director of ATC in October of 2002 because I felt certain that the theater could not only survive, but thrive, without me. And it did. I have had no formal relationship with the theater in these past nearly seven years, but I have continued to support it. I remain close friends with several ensemble members – both past and present, or, present until today – and I have always only wanted the theater to succeed. Today is a death of sorts. And a rebirth, I suppose. But death is always to be mourned. Or at least noted. Respected. As Arthur Miller said, “Attention must be paid.”
My old family is going through a difficult time. I send them my love and support and my very best wishes for happier times ahead. I am so very grateful to have been privileged to lead this extraordinary group of artists for six years, and yet also deeply saddened that the ensemble has been ripped asunder. I hope for healing, both for ATC and for the newly reconstituted American Blues Theater. Or, perhaps they will return to the original spelling, theatre. Either way, I wish them well.
Namaste.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Our Pragmatic President
Earlier tonight President Obama held his second prime-time news conference. He took questions from 13 different reporters from a wide variety of news outlets, including Univision, Fox News, and Stars and Stripes (the military’s newspaper), among others. After his speech, the pundits pounced: “He looked tentative.” “He looked tired.” “He was angry when our own Ed Henry (I was watching CNN) asked why it took him so long to express outrage at the AIG bonuses.”
Well, fortunately they replayed that clip. He didn’t seem angry to me. He said, and I’m paraphrasing here, “I don’t like to talk about something before I know what I’m talking about.” He didn’t raise his voice or furrow his brow or anything that might suggest that he was angry. He said, simply, and calmly, “I don’t like to talk about something before I know what I’m talking about.” (Or, something like that.)
What I saw was a president in command of the issues and thinking pragmatically. He said, “If we don’t deal with energy, health care, and education, we won’t have an economy that’s growing – at all.” He is absolutely right. So the White House is counting on 2.6% growth (in the near future) and the CBO (Congressional Budget Office) is expecting 2.2% growth in the near term. These four tenths of a percent matter hugely to the budget deficit we will be facing in years to come, but they aren’t THAT far away from each other.
This president looked into the camera and said, “We’re going to make mistakes. And, when we discover them, we’ll fix them.” “What a relief!” I say. “How refreshing!” I say. After eight long years of a president who couldn’t own up to any mistake, I find it terribly/wonderfully refreshing to hear a president say, “We’re going to make mistakes, and as soon as we spot them, we’re going to fix them.” How adult. How responsible. How accountable to the American voters is that?
What I saw tonight was a president who knew the issues, who demonstrated that he has thought about them very carefully, and who was willing to be open to another person or persons having a better idea than his. That’s leadership in my book. He said, “If Republicans or anyone else has a better idea how to fix the economy, I want to hear it.” Amen.
It’s time for us to come together as Americans. It’s time for us all to put our petty politics aside and work for the regeneration of our economy. I am not for a minute suggesting that we shouldn’t question President Obama’s or Treasury Secretary Geithner’s prescriptions for the economy. Rather, I’m suggesting that if we have better ideas then it is our duty to share them. In the meanwhile, we should support what they are trying to do. As Mr. Obama said tonight regarding the question about charitable donations: “A bus driver who makes $50,000, or $40,000 a year gets to deduct 28% of his charitable donations, but I (who make FAR more than that) get to deduct 39% of my charitable donations. That doesn’t seem fair.” You are right, Mr. President, it isn’t fair. And, it’s time for this to change!
I make far less than President Obama’s hypothetical bus driver and still contribute to charities. I don’t do it for the tax deduction, as I’m sure he doesn’t either. It’s nice, but it’s an after thought, a gimme, if you will.
Let’s back our president. He ain’t perfect, but he’s pragmatic, and that’s a far cry better than the last eight years!
Namaste.
Well, fortunately they replayed that clip. He didn’t seem angry to me. He said, and I’m paraphrasing here, “I don’t like to talk about something before I know what I’m talking about.” He didn’t raise his voice or furrow his brow or anything that might suggest that he was angry. He said, simply, and calmly, “I don’t like to talk about something before I know what I’m talking about.” (Or, something like that.)
What I saw was a president in command of the issues and thinking pragmatically. He said, “If we don’t deal with energy, health care, and education, we won’t have an economy that’s growing – at all.” He is absolutely right. So the White House is counting on 2.6% growth (in the near future) and the CBO (Congressional Budget Office) is expecting 2.2% growth in the near term. These four tenths of a percent matter hugely to the budget deficit we will be facing in years to come, but they aren’t THAT far away from each other.
This president looked into the camera and said, “We’re going to make mistakes. And, when we discover them, we’ll fix them.” “What a relief!” I say. “How refreshing!” I say. After eight long years of a president who couldn’t own up to any mistake, I find it terribly/wonderfully refreshing to hear a president say, “We’re going to make mistakes, and as soon as we spot them, we’re going to fix them.” How adult. How responsible. How accountable to the American voters is that?
What I saw tonight was a president who knew the issues, who demonstrated that he has thought about them very carefully, and who was willing to be open to another person or persons having a better idea than his. That’s leadership in my book. He said, “If Republicans or anyone else has a better idea how to fix the economy, I want to hear it.” Amen.
It’s time for us to come together as Americans. It’s time for us all to put our petty politics aside and work for the regeneration of our economy. I am not for a minute suggesting that we shouldn’t question President Obama’s or Treasury Secretary Geithner’s prescriptions for the economy. Rather, I’m suggesting that if we have better ideas then it is our duty to share them. In the meanwhile, we should support what they are trying to do. As Mr. Obama said tonight regarding the question about charitable donations: “A bus driver who makes $50,000, or $40,000 a year gets to deduct 28% of his charitable donations, but I (who make FAR more than that) get to deduct 39% of my charitable donations. That doesn’t seem fair.” You are right, Mr. President, it isn’t fair. And, it’s time for this to change!
I make far less than President Obama’s hypothetical bus driver and still contribute to charities. I don’t do it for the tax deduction, as I’m sure he doesn’t either. It’s nice, but it’s an after thought, a gimme, if you will.
Let’s back our president. He ain’t perfect, but he’s pragmatic, and that’s a far cry better than the last eight years!
Namaste.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Writers In the Storm (With apologies to Jim Morrison)
As I sit at my kitchen table this evening nursing a Jameson Irish Whiskey (the last of the night) I think – what? I’m thinking about the day, about my work, about my wife (she’s upstairs reading Tim O’Brien’s “In the Lake of the Woods” and if you haven’t read it yet, you should!) and, I’m thinking about my two dogs, lying on the floor on the rug in the center of the kitchen. One of them, Max, is old. He’s gotta be at least 14 by now, maybe 15. And Beau, Beau is around 5, he’s still a little young and very energetic. He’s a purebred Sheltie and he barks his head off at cars or trucks or really anything with wheels of any sort. Fortunately, he doesn’t bark all that much inside, mostly outside.
Today I wrote a bit, read a bit, walked a bit, visited with Gloria a bit, watched a movie with her (“I’ve Loved You So Long,” a wonderful film featuring Kristin Scott Thomas), and thought a lot. Nothing wrong with thinking. Sometimes it’s what we need to do the most. Especially if it is productive thinking. Thinking about what I will next tackle in my writing, thinking about how I can find a better, more perfect word for a story that is almost done, almost ready to send out into the world.
Earlier today I ran across this website (http://mfaconnect.com/) and it looked very interesting. I composed a posting and sent it along to them and they wrote me back saying my posting will be listed within a day or two. I think we writers benefit when we connect with one another, when we remind ourselves that we are not so alone as we might sometimes feel, so I sent the post. It’s an open invitation to connect, to communicate, to share. They tell me that there will be a link to this blog when they post what I wrote, and that’s great, because I want more connection with other writers, not less. I want to break our solitude, not romanticize it.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Namaste.
Today I wrote a bit, read a bit, walked a bit, visited with Gloria a bit, watched a movie with her (“I’ve Loved You So Long,” a wonderful film featuring Kristin Scott Thomas), and thought a lot. Nothing wrong with thinking. Sometimes it’s what we need to do the most. Especially if it is productive thinking. Thinking about what I will next tackle in my writing, thinking about how I can find a better, more perfect word for a story that is almost done, almost ready to send out into the world.
Earlier today I ran across this website (http://mfaconnect.com/) and it looked very interesting. I composed a posting and sent it along to them and they wrote me back saying my posting will be listed within a day or two. I think we writers benefit when we connect with one another, when we remind ourselves that we are not so alone as we might sometimes feel, so I sent the post. It’s an open invitation to connect, to communicate, to share. They tell me that there will be a link to this blog when they post what I wrote, and that’s great, because I want more connection with other writers, not less. I want to break our solitude, not romanticize it.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Namaste.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
This moment, now.
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.
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.
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