Thank goodness, I’m glad it’s the end of the day, and I’m even gladder that tomorrow is a whole n’other day because this one, although it was fine in some ways, was also quite tortuous on the mental front. I don’t talk about the topic of work and career here very often because on the one hand, the second I mention one of those two words, I become instantly anxiety ridden, and for another, I have no idea who might read this blog and wouldn’t want casual comments made here to be wrongly interpreted by some of my work relations for instance, should they find their way on these pages.
Now that I’ve gotten those preliminary words of caution out of the way, I’ll tell you what it is that has me worried: I’m obsessed with the idea that I’ll become a bag lady shortly after my psychiatrist declares me fit to work again. I don’t care how irrational that might sound, but the thought just tortures me every single day and I usually manage to switch off that sort of nonsense, but today in particular was very difficult in that regard.
I had a thriving (and obviously very stressful) career before I left on my extended medical leave almost two years ago now, but there are absolutely no guarantees that:
a) I’ll get my job back
b) I’ll be able to perform at my job if I do get it back
c) I won’t end up being demoted to some lowly administrative position or
d) I won’t be required to grovel and beg to get my job back—the same one that sent me on this medical leave to begin with (well the job was only partially the reason but still).
e) I haven’t already torpedoed my carreer down the drain by being a hermit for the past 21 months and not giving any signs of life to anyone.
Then of course, when you go through as major a shift as I have done, you can’t help but consider the possibility that it might be a good idea to look at other career paths or ventures. And while in principle it sounds like a really good idea to do that, the fact is I just don’t have the kind of enthusiasm and drive that would propel me forward to dreaming up that shiny bright future I’ve always dreamed of. If I did, I wouldn’t be writing this blog entry to begin with.
Then I’m seeing the pages of the calendar just flying off faster and faster like that scene they used to show in 50’s movies to show time going by... and next thing I know I’m going to be turning 40 in no time at all and... I’M NOT READY!!! I was supposed to have a whole bunch of things figured out by then. I was supposed to be reaching up higher and higher in the echelons of success while going deeper and deeper into my spiritual connection. Instead I’m just seeing all these dreams I used to have as hopelessly naive and kind of pathetic. I want to dream and hope again but my mind has decided that I’m too... middle-aged to consider anything else than a steady progress toward continual decrepitude and an inexhorable descent into complete irrelevance (if I haven’t gotten there aleady that is).
Finally, once my mind has gotten a firm hold on me (as it did today) and I manage to convince myself that all is lost and I’ll be fired from my job the second I show my face, I immediately start thinking about what my options are. It’s a little mental exercise that’s supposed to be helpful—look at POSSIBILITIES instead of feeling stuck with what seems like a dire situation. But then it all becomes even scarier because I start to think, well—who the hell would want me after having retired for so long and everybody talks and would know that I’m a liability since I have such serious health problems. So I start thinking I would be forced to leave this city and seek employment elsewhere. But then, I’m not sure my knowledge base is interesting to employers at this point since it’s obviously out of date. And I also have the following thought which plagues me constantly: “who moves to another city or country or starts a new carreer at the age of 40!!”. I said this to my therapist this week and she said now that so many people are losing their jobs every day, there are people much older than I having to start over too, but somehow that’s not really a comforting thought. At all.
I don’t want to end up having to work at McDonald’s. My wardrobe is too fabulous for that (if I can ever fit into it again). And I don’t want to end up as a bag lady and have to cart all my stuff around. I need to keep a roof over my head if only so that my cats can stay safe and warm. I don’t want to have to move from my cozy appartment and share a flat with a bunch of students to save on rent. I don’t want to have to downgrade... just as I’m turning 40. I’ve struggled quite enough.
I feel like I’ve made a big mess of everything. And then again... it’s not like I did any of it on purpose!
So imagine all that... on a constant loop. So yeah, I’m feeling a little bit sorry for myself. Programing should return to normal by tomorrow, let’s hope.
Photo by guy.p, Flickr
January 31, 2009
I Worry Sometimes
January 29, 2009
Quote of the Day
“As far as your personal requirements are concerned, the ideal is to have fewer involvements, fewer obligations, and fewer affairs, business or whatever. However, so far as the interest of the larger community is concerned, you must have as many involvements as possible and as many activities as possible.” ~ The Dalai Lama
This is How Mimi Copes with Life
We’ve had another great Canadian winter storm today. I wasn’t particularly affected since I was just doing my own thing on the computer, but I know it must have been hell driving around and getting places on time today. Mimi here displays how to best deal with the situation. Since burying her lovely little head in the snow is not an option, Mimi the ostrich-cat prefers the living-room couch which is a great deal more comfortable. I might have considered going outside to play in the snow myself today but now I fear just setting foot outside my apartment can bring about injury and pain. I had a small errand to run yesterday and with hands full and having just put on my coat and boots on (+ hat + gloves + scarf + cashmere socks) I stepped out onto the staircase leading to the front door and next thing I knew my foot wasn’t making contact with anything and the back of my head hit the step as I was tumbling down down down. Good thing that staircase is relatively short because it was over in an instant and when I opened my eyes again I immediately felt each point of impact making it’s presence known. I wished the cats could speak or have feelings of empathy then, just to hear them say “are you okay?” and as it turns out, I’m fine, just have a nasty bruise just around where my plumber crack would be which mean I won’t be wearing low-riders for a while. I was pleasantly surprised when I realized my head and no bumps or scrapes and wasn’t hurting either because I still remember the loud crack my skull made on that ledge and I’ve decided it was the hat that saved me. It’s a really great hat, kind of Russian-style with fur on the front and on the ears, which can be worn up or down. I got it because it’s very warm but mostly because it looks great, but now I’ve discovered it also has another very practical application which is to keep me from getting brained when I’m going about my daily business. I think I should just follow Mimi’s example. Looks comfortable enough. And let’s not forget—safe too.
Pic by me
January 27, 2009
A Mercy
I just finished reading A Mercy, Toni Morrison’s latest novel. I should call it a novella since it’s only 167 pages, but though this volume might be slim, it packs plenty of substance. It is suggested that this story is a kind of prequel to Beloved, her Novel Prize-winning masterpiece. As it happens, Beloved was my first experience with Morrison, whom I only decided to delve into last year. I have no intention of comparing the two stories, especially since I find the only thing the two books have in common is the theme of slavery.
A Mercy brings us back to the 1680’s when America was still made up of collonies and slavery was in its early stages. Jacob Vaark settles into farm life with a mail-order bride from England and though he is opposed to slavery, is cornered into taking little Florens as payment for a bad debt. As the story progresses, we learn more about each character living on that farm; Rebekka, his wife, Lina, a native indian girl, and Sorrow, a black orphaned girl found on a ship. The narrative takes us from one character to another, with Florens’ voice describing a solitary journey to go find the man she is in love with. Morrison’s prose is beautifully poetic and the voice she uses when writing from Florens’ perspective seems to truly come alive.
Quote of the Day
Going away is like dying a little, but staying is a slow death.
~Gilles Veber, French writer
January 25, 2009
A Sweet Visit
My friend K came over on Friday afternoon saying she had a little something for me. We hadn’t had the opportunity to see each other since the fall so I was looking forward to her visit. The “little something” turned out to be this beautifully packaged assortment of Christmas cookies she’d reserved from the batches she had baked with her daughter and they were so pretty that I thought I should take pictures before devouring them. They were made following Martha Stewart cookie recipes so apart from being beautiful I knew they’d be excellent—first because K made them and then because I had the occasion of baking cookies from Martha Stewart recipes too and the results were always quite very good. The trick to doing any sort of Martha Stewart project I learned, is to accept the fact from the get-go that the results will never look as perfect as hers and allow yourself to take some liberties.
We made some tea and sat in the living room like proper ladies to catch up on things. It so happened I had received my ginormous box of foods from NutriSystem that morning (more about that later) and had decided to start the program the following day, so I was basically free to eat all the cookies I could comfortably fit in my tummy. That’s quite a few, but it was definitely worth it. I managed to save up two or three of them so I can satisfy a craving if ever I tire of the program. I think the baking and giving of Christmas cookies is one of my favorite traditions for that holiday. I like those beautiful sugary confections so much that I think the baking and sharing of Christmas cookies should be a tradition year-round.
Pics by Smiler (last pic taken from my phone camera)
January 24, 2009
On My Mind
Today I had this thought:
My twenties were about exploring my options. My thirties were about understanding what makes me tick. I’d like my forties to be about being comfortable in my own skin.
Sounds Like a Plan
My goals for this week starting tomorrow, Saturday are:
1. Follow the NutriSystem meal plan.
2. Place a check next to every food I ate and the water I drank in my daily diary.
Also record the time I ate or drank each item in said diary.
3. Do physical activities 3 times, whether it’s going to the gym, following a DVD
or taking a walk (once it's safe for my back).
4. Go to sleep by midnight at least 3 days this week*.
5. Buy a lottery ticket.
Small, attainable goals is the key. Short and sweet for now. I’ll explain in detail later although I think this is pretty self-explanatory. Trying to get to sleep before 2 am now*—wish me luck.
*The biggest challenge of all.
January 23, 2009
This is Not a Real Review
It’s probably too soon for me to write a proper review of the latest book I read, Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises. I finished it just minutes ago and I feel that I need to live with it and mull it over for a while in order to gain full appreciation of this deceptively simple story. But still, I felt like jotting down my first impressions so I could read them again someday and compare. One thing that makes Hemingway pleasant to read is that he writes simply to express complex issues. I feel completely at home with his quick, clipped prose, probably because he’s had such a huge influence on contemporary writers. It’s also a skill I hope to acquire someday. Where my first experience with Hemingway with A Moveable Feast felt like a celebration of life, this story at times had me wondering why I should bother with this book where too many elements rubbed me the wrong way. Like the characters, who are all unsympathetic and focused only on getting as drunk as possible, day and night. Or the constant anti-semitic comments about a jewish character, who seemed to have been included in the story only so everyone could vent their hatred of Jews. That had me stop in my tracks and consider giving up a few times but I kept on, reminding myself to put the style, the story, the dialogue in context. And then I found this:
Remarking on Hemingway's use of derogatory terms for Jews, blacks, Italians and Frenchmen, Professor Baker wrote in the foreword to the volume of Hemingway letters that the author ''was born into a time when such epithets were regrettably commonplace on most levels of American society.''
Hemingway's anti-Semitism, he said, ''was no more than skin deep; it was mainly a verbal habit rather than a persistent theme like that of Pound.'' ~ EDWIN McDOWELL, The New York Times on the Web
January 22, 2009
A Special Occasion
“A career is wonderful, but you can't curl up with it on a cold night.”
~ Marilyn Monroe
Had an appointment today with my psychiatrist—a very special occasion since I hadn’t been able to see her in months. I guess the thinking is as long as I’m taking the drugs, everything is under control and appointments with the shrink need only happen to make prescription changes. Main topic of conversation was my brilliant career, or how to get myself from here to there again. She gave me a note to give to the insurance people to buy me more time while I follow up on my homework and make strategic phone calls to figure out what’s what. Phone calls I can handle. I think. I find it hard to believe that anyone will have me after being gone so long, but apparently that’s the way the system works; as long as I keep taking the drugs I’m allowed to stay in the system and hold on to my lifestyle. For what it’s worth.
Photo by Murray Garrett
January 20, 2009
Gym Break
I'm being punished today. This is what 18 months of not doing any exercise gets me. I finally managed to drag myself back to the gym and now I can barely walk. I keep thinking I should have taken it easy, shouldn’t have pushed too far, but the truth is I did and I didn’t. Ran a total of 6 minutes (if that!) during my 30 minute treadmill session and the rest I just walked. Like those people I used to look at with a mixture of disgust and pity. Who lets themselves get out of shape like that? I used to wonder. Well apparently, people like me. And so today I was walking around bent in half because my back is in so much pain. And the weird part is I don’t recall doing anything that could have harmed my back, so go figure. But of course exercise is GOOD for you. Still, I think I’ll give myself a gym break tomorrow. The idea is to do exercise so I can feel better. Not end up in a wheelchair.
Treadmill Therapy
Today was a small victory of sorts. I woke up this morning more determined than ever to finally make use of my gym membership. So I went, I squeezed into my gym clothes, and I cardioed. I knew I was woefully out of shape even before I got on the machine, so just set a goal to stay on it for 30 minutes, whether that meant running or walking or crawling. The real shock came when I broke into a jog and everything started jiggling—I was mortified when I felt my stomach was flapping against me—not something I’ve ever experienced before. I was glad for the long baggy t-shirt covering up all my extra curves and rolls. But then when I headed back to the women’s locker room, I saw this other girl getting ready next to me and that pretty well put everything into perspective. There was no getting around the fact that she was huge. And my first thought was how brave she is to put on gym clothes and do her best to stay healthy in a club where just about everybody is bound to be half her size. Which made me feel ridiculous for switching gyms so that people at my regular gym wouldn’t see me with the 20-30 extra pounds on my frame. As if anybody cared. Now it’s many hours later and I can still feel the effects of the exercise. Mostly my back—as if I’ve been moving boxes all day. So good for me. Now I just have to keep doing that 3-4 times a week like, forever and I’m set!
Right after the gym I took Mimi to the vet. I was concerned she might have an upper respiratory problem because she often sounds like she’s snoring, even when she’s wide awake. The vet pretty much reassured me she was fine for now and we’d only take action if her breathing problem worsened. I mentioned Fritz and the fact that he’s started peeing everywhere just out of the blue, and he just looked at me and said, “once you rule out urinary tract problems, if it’s behavioural, there’s not much you can do, take my word for it”. I said “are you sure?” which is when he told me he has three male cats which are all marking their territory in the house. I said something like “don’t you just want to kill them when they do that?”. He just gave me this look like, “yep, I know what you’re talking about.” Maybe I should just get him his own little treadmill so he can work out his frustrations, poor dear.
January 19, 2009
Cat Fight
There’s trouble on the home front. Fritz has taken to pissing everywhere and anywhere. I’ve taken to calling him “Hey Stupid” and “Here, Moron Moron”. That’s when I’m not chasing him all over the apartment when I catch him taking a piss, swearing I’m going to kill him. Something is broken between him and me and I don’t know if it can ever be fixed. Mimi watches all that commotion, cool as a cucumber and doesn’t seem affected by it at all. We’ve definitely got a love/hate thing going Fritz and I. The fact that this is my single most pressing issue at the moment definitely points to the fact that I spend way too much time with my cats.
January 16, 2009
Girl Time, Shopping and Materialism
I spent some time shopping downtown with my sister-in-law Sophie today. Her and my brother are heading back home to Australia tomorrow morning, via a five day stop-over in Tokyo (I’m totally jealous) so the get-together was an occasion to spend girl-time with my “little sister” while they’re still here. I also hung out with both of them yesterday at the Museum of Contemporary Art, and then in a café comfortably shielded from the freezing cold where I quickly realized that everything that was coming out of my mouth was in some way connected to my new computer and iPhone. I guess it isn’t so surprising considering how much time I spend with my new toys. I’ve always been sensitive to issues of materialism, mostly because I’m keenly aware that my dedication to amassing “stuff”doesn’t exactly jive with some of my ideals. After a small bout of shopping and a late lunch at a French Bistro with Sophie, I came home and found the following very à propos article in my mailbox, kindly provided by DailyOm:
Clearing a Space for Change
The Weight of Objects
In life, we tend to have an easier time acquiring possessions than we do getting rid of them. Just as we harbor emotional baggage that is difficult to let go of, our lives can tend to be filled with material objects that we may feel compelled to hold on to. Most people are not conscious of how much they own and how many of their possessions are no longer adding value to their life. They fiercely hold on to material objects because this makes them feel secure or comfortable. While it’s true that the ownership of “stuff” can make you feel good for awhile, it seldom satisfies the deep inner longings that nearly everyone has for fulfillment and satisfaction. It is only when we are ready to let go of our baggage and be vulnerable that it becomes possible to recognize the emotional hold that our possessions can have on us.
It’s not uncommon to hold on to material objects because we are attached to them or fear the empty spaces that will remain if we get rid of them. Giving away the souvenirs from a beloved voyage may feel like we are erasing the memory of that time in our life. We may also worry that our loved ones will feel hurt if we don’t keep the gifts they’ve given us. It’s easy to convince ourselves that unused possessions might come in handy someday or that parting with them will cause you emotional pain. However, when your personal space is filled with objects, there is no room for anything new to enter and stay in your life. Your collection of belongings may “protect” you from the uncertainties of an unknown future while keeping you stuck in the past. Holding on to unnecessary possessions often goes hand in hand with holding on to pain, anger, and resentment, and letting go of your material possessions may help you release emotional baggage.
When you make a conscious decision to fill your personal space with only the objects that you need or bring you joy, your energy level will soar. Clearing your personal space can lead to mental clarity and an improved memory. As you learn to have a more practical and temporary relationship to objects, positive changes will happen, and you’ll have space to create the life that you desire.
January 15, 2009
Quote of the Day
“People complicate everything to have the impression they’re living.”
Patrick Rambaud (French writer)
January 12, 2009
Here Comes the Fitness Queen
Today, after a long therapy session during which doing exercise seemed to be the answer for all that ails me these days, I finally marched over to that cardio gym and got myself properly signed up. Then I went to buy myself a lock so I wouldn’t have any excuse keeping me from going. Most gyms offer a free session with a trainer, and while I’ve tried it in the past, I’ve decided it’s not worth the time since all too often I end up knowing about as much about training as the trainers do. The trainers that I saw while I was there didn’t exactly inspire confidence either. While I don’t expect all trainers to look like Mr. Universe, it’s hard for me to take fitness advice from someone who’s got a potbelly that’s bigger than mine. The manager who was signing me up kept mentioning that I should really give it a try, especially after she saw that my fitness goal was to lose the 20-30 lbs or so that I’ve gained these past 18 months, saying that they might be able to give me a few helpful tips and pointers. I don’t like to show off, but at that point I just leaned in close to her and said “in a former, much leaner lifetime, I was a fitness competitor, so I think I’ll figure my way around”. She looked at me completely differently after that and didn’t mention the trainer thing again.
I think I’ll pack my gym bag tonight and leave it by the door. All I’ve got to do after that is take the bag and walk me and my big belly up the hill, change into a t-shirt and sneakers, plug into my iPod Shuffle, position myself at any available cardio machine and then... just do it. Just 30 minutes, 3 times a week is my goal for starters, then we’ll take it from there. But first of course, I’ve got to make sure I physically get myself there. Lord knows why I resist it so much since I love exercising when I get into it. Fear of change? Maybe. Probably. But my fear of obesity is even greater, so I’ll do whatever I’ve gotta do. Starting tomorrow. Maybe.
January 11, 2009
Critter of the Day
My uncle Pini sent me a similar video today and I just had to share it. Couldn’t find the same edit but this one will do.
January 10, 2009
A Dose of Reality
My day started bright and early today. My friend N had sent out a last minute Facebook invitation to her friends this week, saying she and her beau were getting married at the municipal court Saturday at 9:00 am (i.e. today), and there would be a brunch at a neighborhood hangout. She made it clear she didn’t expect anyone to make it considering the short notice. Who gets married at 9:00 am? was my first thought. But I knew I couldn’t miss such a special occasion. I hadn’t seen my girlfriend in two years, and had yet to meet the groom, so I replied I’d join them for the brunch portion, which was more of a realistic goal for me time-wise. I ended up getting there so late that people were starting to leave already, but that was okay with me since the prospect of meeting a big bunch of people made me really nervous. N would have had every right to be annoyed with me for showing up at the last minute like that, but instead she kept thanking me for even showing up at all, saying she knows what a big effort it is for me to just get out of the house these days. Keep everybody’s expectations low is what I say. That’s the way to go. It seems I didn’t miss much as far as the ceremony goes. As N told me, the judge was particularly disagreeable (but she used more colorful language) and managed to trim down what should have been a twenty minute ceremony into an efficient five minutes instead. What I found refreshing was that N didn’t seem all that bothered by it all. Compared to those hysterical bridezillas you hear about and see on tv, it was nice to see my friend keeping a firm sense of perspective on the whole thing.
Speaking of television, now that the new season is on there’s a whole slew of new shows, including of course the reality shows. I’m not necessarily a huge fan of that format, but I have been known to get hooked on a season of The Bachelor here and there. I think it’s hilarious that they call them “reality” shows because once they’ve done the casting and flown the contestants into the dream setting and dressed them up to the nines and gotten the game in motion according to script, the whole thing ends up looking exactly like a soap opera. The big twist on The Bachelor this season is that he’s a single father! Woo hoo! Can you imagine that? To hear them promote it, you’d think the guy’s the first single dad that ever was.
My other guilty pleasure lately is called True Beauty. The participants have been told they are competing for the title of most beautiful person in America. There’s plenty to cringe about when you meet these *paragons of beauty* as they each go on and on about how far superior their looks are to anybody elses. Meanwhile the judges watch footage from hidden cameras, while the contestants are subjected to covert challenges designed to measure whether they are as beautiful on the inside as they think they are on the outside. On the first show, each participant is driven to the designer glass mansion in a Ferrari, and as they’re arriving and making small talk, one girl says “I bet you were all the most beautiful person in high school, right?” and of course everybody agrees. As for this humble blogger, I was too different back in high school to be considered beautiful by anyone but my mother [hey mom!] but I do remember very much hoping that some members of the clique of beautiful rich kids—endlessly preening and showing off their hair, their teeth, their tans, their clothes and accessories—would fall flat on their faces. So far, True Beauty pretty much delivers on that front. Petty, yes. But satisfying as hell.
January 8, 2009
Currently Reading
I’m starting off the year with a great book selection: Haruki Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore describes a 15 year-old who decides to call himself Kafka Tamura when he escapes from home one day. Though he’s decidedly a bookworm and likes to spend the better part of the day reading, his adventure is filled with intrigue and mystery. I can’t decide whether I’m more hooked on the adventures of Kafka or those of Nakata, a simple-minded old man who specializes in finding missing cats thanks to his ability to carry on conversations with felines. One house cat he runs into is this beautiful siamese called... Mimi of course and Nakata must choose to kill a man or let Mimi die a gruesome death (he might be a simpleton, but some choices are easy to make even for him). One thing I’ll say about Murakami is that he is never boring and always manages to dish out things you would never expect. I think this may be my favorite book of his so far. I'll take that over listening to depressing news any day.
January 7, 2009
Winter Scenery
It’s been snowing all day here and it’ll probably continue well into the night. I didn’t take a photo of the all-white scenery this time, but I did receive this photo from my mom in France today, where they apparently got 3cm of snow which caused all sorts of disruptions. Never mind that 3cm is what we get here within about 5 minutes... just proves once again that everything is relative.
Photo by Lucie Bourges
January 5, 2009
The Mom Song
I considered waiting till Mother’s Day to post this one, but that’s just too far away. Once again sent to me by one of my favorite content providers, my uncle Pini in Israel. I know my mom and every other mother out there will appreciate this song. Heck, I’m only a mother to my cats and even I could relate!
Of course in my case the lyrics would be slightly different and would include lines such as “Get OFF the counter (or table or sheets)! “Don’t attack the guests!”, “Be NICE” (to Fritz) and their favorite: “Come and get your treats!” closely followed by “Hey Miss Piggy, leave some for Fritz!” (to Mimi).
January 4, 2009
All We Are Saying...
While talking on the phone with my dad today, of course we spent some time talking about the situation over there since (to those of you who don’t know already) he happens to be living in Israel where things are very scary right now. Everyone who is praying for peace is expecting Barack Obama to swoop in with Hillary by his side and fix all that mess somehow. Wouldn’t want to be in either of their shoes what with all these extremists on one side and the other screaming bloody murder.
It makes me sad to think that one generation after another of Arab children are taught to hate the Jews and the Israelis in particular with propaganda campaigns that, if they weren’t directly inspired by them, make the Nazis look almost like amateurs by comparison. It saddens me that all these Palestinians who were just living their lives are taken hostage by politicians and their own agendas and forced to live like refugees in what was their only home for countless generations. And the truly nightmarish part is that there are many who are doing everything in their power to provoke a war. As if that was ever the solution to anything.
And all I can do is sit here on my comfortable couch far removed from it all and hope and pray that somehow a miracle will happen and everyone will wake up, come to their senses and realize we are, all of us human beings made of the same flesh and bones and how senseless it is to spill more blood. If only they realized that with some good will on all sides, compromises can be reached. But of course, men of war don’t seek to make compromises. “If we can’t have it, then neither can they” they’re probably saying, like children fighting over some toy. But when there are bombs and missiles involved nobody calls it a game anymore. Even though war, at the end of the day, is just politicians playing Russian roulette with other people’s lives.
So what is there left to do? Well I’m a child of the 60’s so there’s always this—maybe if we all sing it loud enough then they’ll stop and listen?
(By the way, the video was recorded right here at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montreal where John Lennon and Yoko Ono had their bed-in in 1969)
January 3, 2009
January 1, 2009
The Two Lists
First of all, thanks to all of you who have sent me you well wishes today in one form or another. January 1st is turning out to be a tear-filled day for me so my apologies for laying low. Perhaps I worry too much that the first day of the year will impact the 364 others to come. There is a story that appeared in the DailyOm yesterday which I’d like to share with you all. Since I’m in no mood to be making any kind of New Year’s resolution today (maybe because there are too many to make), I thought the message of this story was very timely.
New Year's Resolutions: The Two Lists
A Message from DailyOM Co-Founder Scott Blum
I was fortunate to spend time with an enigmatic man named Robert during a very special period of my life. Robert taught me many things during our days together, and this time of year reminds me of one particular interaction we had.
"Now that you are becoming more aware," Robert said, "you need to begin to set goals for yourself so you don't lose the momentum you have built."
"Like New Year's resolutions?" I asked.
"That's an interesting idea," he smirked. "Let's do that."
By then I was used to his cryptic responses, so I knew something was up because of the way his eyes sparkled as he let out an impish laugh.
"Tonight's assignment is to make two lists," Robert continued. "The first is a list of all the New Year's resolutions you WANT to keep, and the second is a list of all the New Year's resolutions you WILL keep. Write the WANT List first, and when you have exhausted all of your ideas, then write the second list on another sheet of paper."
That night I went home and spent several hours working on the two lists. The WANT List felt overwhelming at first, but after a while I got into writing all the things I had always wanted to do if the burdens of life hadn't gotten in the way. After nearly an hour, the list swelled to fill the entire page and contained nearly all of my ideas of an ideal life. The second list was much easier, and I was able to quickly commit ten practical resolutions that I felt would be both realistic and helpful.
The next day, I met Robert in front of the local food Co-op, where we seemed to have most of our enlightening conversations. "Tell me about your two lists," Robert said as the familiar smirk crept onto his face.
"The first list contains all the things I SHOULD do if I completely changed my life to be the person I always wanted to be. And the second list contains all the things I COULD do by accepting my current life, and taking realistic steps towards the life I want to lead."
"Let me see the second list," he said.
I handed him the second list, and without even looking at it, he ripped the paper into tiny pieces and threw it in the nearby garbage can. His disregard for the effort I had put into the list annoyed me at first, but after I calmed down I began to think about the first list in a different light. In my heart, I knew the second list was a cop out, and the first list was the only one that really mattered.
"And now, the first list." Robert bowed his head and held out both of his hands.
I purposefully handed him the first list and held his gaze for several seconds, waiting for him to begin reading the page. After an unusually long silence, he began to crumple the paper into a ball and once again tossed it into the can without looking at it.
"What did you do that for?!" I couldn't hide my anger any longer.
Robert began to speak in a quiet and assured voice. "What you SHOULD or COULD do with your life no longer matters. The only thing that matters, from this day forward, is what you MUST do."
He then drew a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to me.
I opened it carefully, and found a single word floating in the middle of the white page:
"Love."
